Author's Note: It's been alluded to and anticipated, teased, and trained for. Now here it is:
The Annual Enterprise Sparring Competition.
Ever since the episode we despise (Skin of Evil) I've wondered what that event would look like.
Don't panic – this is *not* Skin of Evil.
This chapter is 100%, complete, unabashed fun. There isn't even any relationship drama – it's all fluff and fun here!
It's mostly Worf & Tasha friendship in this update. The next chapter Keep the Home Fires Burning feature a Data & Geordi buddy instalment.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
Tasha's palms were sweaty. In fact, she was intimately aware of how uncomfortably wet her hairline felt from the grime that had accumulated there.
The intensity of round after round had left her feeling numb. It was a strange sensation to be simultaneously so thrilled that she struggled to focus and yet utterly knackered.
Perspiration clung to every inch of her skin as she danced around the ring.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
The hands can't hit what the eyes can't see.
Tasha dodged, ducking just in time to avoid a left jab.
Not that there had been much power behind such a strike.
These weren't blows meant to deal damage, they were probing, exploratory – testing the waters.
After ten gruelling hours of competition it boiled down to this. For most of the audience in attendance, this finale championship sparring match was a far cry from the excitement they had hoped for.
It was nearly a stalemate as the two flitted about the ring.
Tasha was too quick for her opponent. He couldn't land a powerful enough blow on her. Yet, Tasha's speed came at the cost of being in a much lighter weight class – not that such things mattered as much for this tournament.
She technically had the capability to land a blow. But her opponent was far to big for her efforts to have much of an impact.
No, she had to wear him down first. So Tasha was like a snake in the tall grass, just waiting for the opportunity to strike.
Lieutenant Di'oma had been the threat no one had seen coming.
Half-Orion, half-Vulcan, Di'oma's entry hadn't garnered much fanfare. He was a Science officer that occasionally served as a member of the Bridge crew during Night Watch.
Though Tasha had seen him at the fitness centre many times, Di'oma mostly kept to himself.
No one had known he was training for the competition. They had no inkling that he was an expert in Orion backhold wrestling and had spent several years on Earth studying Japanese swordsmanship and judo.
Lieutenant Hawk – widely regarded as one of the best competitors – had been flattened by Di'oma in the first two minutes of the opening round.
Most of the spectators had chalked this up to nothing more than a fluke.
Then Lieutenant Graham had gone down in an equally impressive manner followed by a quick KO against Ensign Francis.
Bets had begun to change hands after that.
And in what had been the most thrilling match of the day, Di'oma and Worf had gone an agonising nine rounds – an Enterprise record.
Everyone had been certain that the match would be won on points rather than a knockout, technical knockout, or submission.
But in an unexpected move, Di'oma had managed to pin Worf – winning the match and securing his place in the final round.
Tasha had not shared in that luck.
In her first match, she had been pitted against Ensign Jeffords. She had anticipated an easy sparring session. Jeffords had proven his worth, going a total of five rounds before Tasha had managed to get the upper hand.
It was hard to be upset though. Tasha was delighted that Jeffords's training was coming along so well.
Delgado had been a quick one-two punch KO but her match against Jae had tested the limits of Tasha's abilities.
Jae was equally as fast on her feet. She was disciplined with a speed and precision that matched Tasha's own.
The crowd had swelled during the rumble between the two.
After seven rounds, Tasha had won by decision. The three-judge panel had declared Tasha victorious. She may have won, but the match forced Tasha to recognise some of her own weaknesses.
She was already planning a new list for training in order to prepare for Jae next year.
And that was what Tasha loved most about this competition.
Everyone brought their own style. There was a bond between most of the competitors. They trained together and learned from each other.
Worf brought a unique blend of Klingon Mok'bara and Ukrainian combat Hopak. Lieutenant Hawk's style combined his talent for Muay Thai with his collegiate wrestling skills. Jae was trained in Okichitaw martial arts technique of her ancestors, the Plains Cree Indigenous people.
Tasha's own system was a hybrid of Aikido, Malagasy Moraingy, and the no-holds-barred style of bare-knuckle Turkanan cage fighting.
Her advancement to the final round had been earned and Tasha had paid for it with every bruise and abrasion that marked her knuckles.
A fresh bead of perspiration stung as it ran into the cut above Tasha's eye.
She hissed and weaved to avoid another jab.
In the distance, Tasha could hear there were people shouting encouragement from the side of the ring. But the sound was muted, drowned out by her own heartbeat that pounded in her ears and reverberated through her body.
She recalled hearing that as an Orion, Di'oma's heart had six chambers. Briefly Tasha wondered if he was experiencing the same thing only amplified.
Di'oma's posture changed.
His feet were planted more firmly. His hands had dropped ever-so-slightly, the left one retracting as he prepared to deliver a powerful blow.
Tasha braced herself.
This was it.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
Three Days Earlier
"Are you going to finish that?" Tasha asked, pointing to the roll in front of Data.
For the last twenty minutes, it had sat there untouched as Data read through morning news from various Federation sources on his tablet.
Data looked up at Tasha, who was halfway through a mouthful of eggs, and then back to the uneaten roll.
"No," he said, sliding it across the table to her.
"Thanks," Tasha said as she shovelled another forkful of food into her mouth.
She couldn't very well see food go to waste – even if it was just a matter of being replicated.
Data returned to his tablet but stopped as he heard Tasha gag.
"I think there's something wrong with the replicator," Tasha frowned.
"No," Data replied.
"This is disgusting," Tasha said as she put the roll back down.
"It tastes precisely as it should," Data said.
"Data, this is not what blackberry jam is supposed to taste like," Tasha explained.
She took a sip of coffee, hoping to wash down the foul taste but it seemed to linger.
"Ugh, somehow it gets worse," Tasha cringed.
"It is a preserve made from the usiphius ungulae of Rutia VI, colloquially known as 'bog bucket'," Data advised.
Tasha's face blanched.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Tasha confessed.
"It is loaded with nutrients," Data called after her as Tasha raced to the lavvy.
He felt bad as he overheard her wretch. A few moments later, she emerged with her toothbrush firmly in hand.
"What are you going to do today?" Tasha asked though a mouthful of foam.
"I have some work in the lab," Data replied.
'Work' wasn't quite true.
He was engrossed in a highly important project of a personal nature – one that required the use of specialised equipment that could not be done outside of a lab environment.
"I've got another session with Worf tonight. Just don't forget we've got dinner at Ten Forward with Miles and Keiko later," Tasha reminded him.
It had been two weeks since their return from Haven.
Data was typically always on time. As of late, he had been consumed by the project in his lab, spending hours upon hours locked away. He'd been an hour late to poker, missed a holodeck appointment with Geordi, and left Tasha hanging for their usual sushi night.
Stranger still, Data had kept the affair top secret.
Not even Captain Picard knew what he was up to – a discovery made after a rather testy Tasha had confronted the Captain over Data's seemingly endless workload.
But the timing could not have been better.
Tasha herself was busy cramming in as much training as she could in preparation for the annual sparring tournament.
She'd spent more nights than most with Worf at the fitness centre or on the holodeck.
She had a title to defend and wasn't about to let a little thing like her recent appendicitis get in the way of winning the tournament for the second year straight.
"19:30 hours. Don't forget," Tasha said, catching Data on the way out the door.
"You have packed sufficient provisions for your shift?" Data teased.
Tasha smacked him playfully on the arm before heading off to the Security office.
Two days earlier, Tasha had started carb-loading for the tournament. Upping both her protein and carbohydrate intake was probably the easiest thing for the always-hungry Security Chief.
As such, she'd been packing extra snacks during the day. It had quickly become a running joke between the two.
Data couldn't help it – he found the whole concept fascinating.
Tasha had no sooner stepped into the Security Office when Worf whipped around in his chair.
"Morning," she said before slipping into her desk.
Worf cleared his throat.
Tasha did not react.
He cleared his throat a second time.
"Ahem," he said, dragging it out.
Tasha sighed in frustration and emptied the contents of the ration box she'd brought onto the surface of the desk.
"All of it," Worf demanded.
Begrudgingly, she reached into her holster and turned over the candy-coated peanut surprise bar she'd been hoping to hide.
Worf put his hands on his hips and frowned.
Tasha rolled her eyes as she reached into her uniform to retrieve the pouch of spicy pickle bites she'd stowed away inside of the hidden pocket there.
"This is not on the approved list," Worf said as he inspected her haul.
"Oi!" Tasha said as Worf swiped her jar of pincha peppers.
They were accountability buddies and had agreed to hold another responsible in the last week of their training.
Only Tasha had a nasty habit of bending the rules.
"You had that wildberry cupcake last night," Tasha protested. "In fact, you had three of them."
Worf did not respond. She had him there.
He cautiously slid the pinch peppers back across the desk. Tasha grabbed them, holding them passively against her chest.
"Perhaps we should rethink this agreement," Tasha suggested.
"Perhaps we should just amend the rules to allow one cheat," Worf proposed as an alternative.
Before she could respond, Ensign Jeffords entered the office.
"Morning!" Jeffords greeted them brightly.
Tasha and Worf both nodded to the young Ensign as he stepped over to the terminal to log in for his shift.
"You know Kees and Olivet had to cancel for lunch today," Jeffords explained.
It was Wednesday and team C had a tradition of getting lunch at Ten Forward. Guinan's offerings had become so popular that it had grown into a cult following.
While the standard, replicated options were always available, Guinan's daily specials were available by ticket-only – and tickets were a hot commodity.
"We've got tickets for today. You two wouldn't be interested, would you?" Jeffords offered.
Worf and Tasha looked at one another.
"Wednesday," Worf said.
"Risian Luau," Tasha commented.
"Sweet and sour," Worf remarked.
"Grilled pineapple," Tasha added.
"Ceviche," they said together.
They had another five and half hours before lunch and yet Tasha's mouth was already watering.
"I won't tell if you don't," Tasha said with a wicked grin.
"Just tell me!" Geordi pleaded.
"As I have said, it is a personal project," Data replied cool as a cucumber.
Miles and Geordi exchanged a glance.
"And it's not a phaser adapter?" Miles asked.
Data frowned.
"You have already guessed that. My answer remains unchanged," Data responded.
"So that's a no," Geordi grumbled.
There wasn't much happening in Engineering that morning. Data was caught up on his duties for the Science Department. The Operations team did not have a meeting until later that afternoon.
It meant Data had the whole morning to himself to work on his top-secret project.
Well, at least that had been the plan.
Work had gone on hold when Miles and Geordi arrived to scope it out. They didn't mean to be a nuisance – they were just curious.
But this project was far too important for Data to run the risk of it leaking back to Tasha.
Ever since their camping trip, Data had replayed the memory of her statement one thousand seven hundred and one times in his mind.
If you were to ask the question, I would have a hard time saying no to you.
He didn't want her to spook if she found out early.
"I must continue my work," Data advised, hoping to politely shoo his friends.
"C'mon, Data," Geordi pressed.
"Whatever it is, must be summat big. That's Rhodilium," Miles said as he noticed a small cube of the rare metal on Data's desk.
"Oooo, I'll bet it's a long-range sensor probe," Geordi theorised.
"Let's see if we can work this out," Miles said.
Geordi laughed and tried to reach for the tablet on Data's desk.
Data beat him to it, covering the contents of the screen with his large hand.
"Please," Data said.
Geordi and Miles could tell this was important to Data.
"Alright then, keep your secrets," Miles said as he flashed Data a smile.
"Just promise you'll share it with us? When you're ready?" Geordi requested.
Data opened his mouth to answer but the communications array in his lab pinged.
"Picard to Commander Data," the Captain's voice rang out.
"Here, sir," Data responded.
"Your presence is requested in Transporter Room Three to receive a level-one priority restricted package that I'm told you authorised," Picard advised.
Geordi's eyebrows shot up.
"Is this for the Science Department?" Picard inquired.
There was a slight pause.
"No," Data answered.
"For a research project?" Picard pressed.
"Not…precisely," Data replied.
There was a slight pause as Captain Picard closed his eyes and sighed.
"Data-" he began to say.
"I will come up to your Ready Room," Data said quickly.
"Data, I don't have a problem with you conducting research," Picard said. "I just ask that you keep me informed – particularly when it involves restricted materials."
"Sir, this is for a personal project," Data said.
Jean-Luc did not look satisfied with that answer.
"I can confirm that it is in no way capable of harming the ship," Data said, offering his personal assurance.
Jean-Luc frowned as he scratched his forehead.
"It is a gift, sir," Data confessed. "A gift that I would prefer to keep secret."
Captain Picard eyed Data carefully.
"From Tasha," he realised aloud.
Now the cause of her frustration behind Data's fictional work hours was clear. When she had first approached the Captain about the matter, Jean-Luc had been baffled.
And Data had been coy after Jean-Luc had followed up with him.
Initially, he had suspected they were maybe having problems and Data was looking to put some distance between them.
Now it all made sense.
"While I am here, sir, I would also like to submit a request for your permission to stay on base during the duration of our time at Starbase 173," Data added. "For myself. And Lieutenant Yar."
Jean-Luc quickly ran the numbers in his head, they were fast-approaching the one-year mark of their whirlwind relationship.
They had fallen hard and fast for each other.
Yet, at the same time it all fell into place.
If Data was planning a surprise for Tasha, all the better. Jean-Luc thought.
"Well then, best of luck with your endeavours," Picard said as he dismissed Data with a small nod.
Ten minutes later, Data was on his way back to his lab with his package in hand.
Step one complete. Data thought with pride.
That night Data wasn't just on time for dinner – he was early.
Early and in an unusually jovial mood.
"Everything alright?" Keiko asked as she sat down across from him.
She couldn't put her finger on it, but Data seemed almost giddy.
"Good evening, Keiko," Data replied. "I am well. And you?"
"Good," she smiled. "Miles said you're working on something top secret. Is that what's got you in such a good mood?"
"You could say that," Data nodded.
Data glanced side to side to ensure they would not be overheard.
"Keiko, may I ask a favour of you? I require your assistance," Data said in a low voice.
"Sure," Keiko shrugged.
"I require your assistance in obtaining a specific list of materials," Data whispered.
After checking again to ensure there was no sign of Tasha, Data slid a small, folded note across the surface of the table.
Keiko went to reach for it, but Data kept it under his hand.
"I trust you will not reveal the contents to anyone?" Data asked.
"What is it? Launch codes?" Keiko teased.
She made to open the note, but Data reached across the table to stop her.
"Please, not here," he said urgently. "Later."
The door to Ten Forward slid open and Tasha and Miles slipped inside.
Data's eyes went wide. Keiko took the hint and quickly hid the note.
"Hello, honey," Miles said.
He gave Keiko a quick peck on the cheek and then slipped into the chair next to her.
Data observed Tasha was more than a little tender as she sat down. Her face was bright red, and her hair was still wet. She had come straight from a hot shower after another intense training session.
"How's the training going?" Guinan asked as she approached the table.
"I'll be happy when it's over," Tasha confessed.
"Liar," Guinan said with her signature deadpan delivery.
Tasha grinned.
"Po-ta-toes," Miles said, emphasising the word.
He scanned the faces around the table.
"Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew," Miles went on. "Fry 'em, sauté, a bit of butter."
He scoffed.
"I'm talking to a bloody wall!" Miles exclaimed.
"I am familiar with the starch," Data said.
"Wonderfood," Miles went on. "You don't need all that algae and fancy kelp bud mush."
"Algae?" Tasha asked.
"Kelp bud mush?" Keiko repeated.
"My nine-times great grandfather was the best bare-knuckle boxer to come out of Finglas," Miles said, beaming with pride. "And he did it on belly full of potatoes."
"Why don't you join the tournament then? You eat enough potatoes to fuel an army," Keiko teased.
"I've got five strips of latinum riding on this match," Miles insisted.
"If it eases your fears, I had a double helping of tatties with lunch," Tasha offered.
And more than burned them off on the holodeck. Tasha mused.
Tasha groaned as her alarm went off.
03:45.
Deciding it would be best to get it over with, Tasha threw off the sheets and scrambled out of bed.
She shivered as she pulled on her socks and laced up her shoes.
Glancing back at the bed, Tasha realised it was empty.
Data quickly hid his tablet behind a book when the door to the bedroom slid open.
"Have you even been to bed yet?" Tasha asked incredulously.
"I-I lost track of time," Data replied, feigning ignorance.
He got up from the table and pulled Tasha into an embrace, rubbing her arms for good measure.
"Mmmm," she groaned, welcoming the warmth.
"You are cold," he observed.
"Won't be for long," she replied.
"Move your feet!" Worf hollered.
Tasha gritted her teeth as she prepared to reach her least favourite part of their obstacle course.
This was their final big workout before the sparring tournament, and they wanted to finish strong.
So Worf and Tasha had put their minds together, designing an extremely challenging obstacle course littered with tasks to test both mind and body.
Worf dove off the platform and landed in the water below.
"Come on!" he encouraged. "The water is fine!"
Tasha was a few metres behind him.
She dove underwater and felt around in the dark, finding her way through the tunnel.
They emerged almost simultaneously on the other side of the barrier, sputtering, and reaching blindly for the net that would carry them up to the next task.
Tasha was the faster climber – but her hands were wet.
She lost her grip and slipped backwards, her foot becoming tangled in the netting as she dangled a few inches above the water.
It would have been easier to simply fall back.
Engaging her core, Tasha tried to pull herself up.
Worf's hand closed around her forearm as he hoisted her back into position. They were technically competitors – but they were friends first and foremost.
In any case, he could make up the lost time during the boulder drag.
At the top of the net, Worf and Tasha reached a platform. The other side of the wall was a steep drop – approximately ten metres.
Using an opposing wall for leverage, they had to carefully finagle their way down until they could drop safely to the ground below.
Scrambling to their feet, they both raced ahead. Tasha was faster – until she got the boulder on.
Wearing harnesses, they raced ahead as they hauled a heavy boulder behind them.
Worf had the strength to do it and make it look good.
When he reached the finish line, he collapsed to his knees and roared triumphantly.
Tasha was nine seconds behind him.
She fell over too and grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Qapla!" Worf declared.
"Qapla," Tasha panted.
That afternoon, Data was back in his lab.
He carefully unwrapped the package he had received the day before. He stared in awe as he turned the contents over in his hand.
Data was immensely proud of himself for this find.
He was holding the tusk of a Biyaki that had been recovered on Tykon Centauri.
Nearly a year earlier Data and Tasha had been part of a mission to capture and relocate this mysterious feline creature. An apex predator, they had known little about the creature prior to the start of the mission.
They were both rare and capable of active camouflage due to the unique properties of their fine, silvery fur.
They had encountered one that was terrorising a Federation colony in the Strnad system. Though the mission had resulted in relocating the colony and cutting ties with the newly discovered Edo people, it had marked an important turning point in Data and Tasha's relationship.
The Biyaki was native to a number of other planets outside of that system and thus research into their elusive nature had continued – aided by the information Data had shared from his own research.
They were fierce protectors of their young, highly intelligent creatures, and they mated for life.
In fact, during their encounter with the creature outside of the colony, they had been ambushed by a second Biyaki that was looking to protect her mate after they had subdued it.
Word had reached Data that this tusk had been recovered from the carcass of a deceased wild specimen that had been tagged. It had recently died of old age and so Data had put in a request for it.
There were three tusks in total recovered. One had been shipped to the Attenborough Foundation of Natural Science on Earth for further study.
A second was en route to an exobiology team at the Vulcan Science Academy.
And Data was lucky enough to have the third and final one in his possession.
In addition to their scarcity as a species, the Biyaki had a long lifespan. That meant this would likely be the only specimen for the next three hundred years.
When Data had first set out to find a ring for Tasha, he had not intended to also make the ring himself. But the more he thought about it, the more he welcomed the idea.
It was a chance to infuse the object with meaning and symbolism. As an artist, he had the skill necessary to create an aesthetically pleasing and one-of-a-kind ring.
Data had conducted extensive research on the subject of banns of matrimony. He studied thousands of years of history on the tradition ranging from the human wedding ring to the Rituvite wedding bann.
Orions wore thin gold bracelets, adding a new one for each year of marriage.
On Risa, where polygamy was the norm, individuals had special necklaces that carried a charm for each different spouse.
Bolians got tattoos.
Data was confident his design would please Tasha and serve as a symbol of his intentions.
Her role on the Enterprise meant that jewellery was largely a no-go. Consoles had a way of exploding. Popular choices for rings like gold and platinum were conductive.
It was a hazard and that's why Tasha had never even worn so much as earrings on the job.
That was where the tusk came in.
Bone was a nonconductive material. It would be something Tasha could wear that would be safe on the job.
He set the tusk down on the surface of his workspace and turned to check the temperature inside the burner unit.
It would be some time yet before it was ready. Once complete, Data would add the Rhodilium and heat it until it was liquified.
He had timed the entire process perfectly.
Rising from his seat, Data stepped through a door into an adjacent chamber. He had spent the morning making modifications to his laser drill.
He placed the Biyaki tusk into a clamp and then pulled the drill overhead.
Stepping out and sealing the room, Data tapped his computer and activated the programme. It only took a few seconds to slice off enough of the tusk to form the ring.
Data was careful to preserve the rest of it for further study.
Using a mechanical arm, he carefully repositioned the material and then activated the next part of the drilling programme.
It hummed to life as it set to work cutting out the shape of the ring and carving the inscription on the inside.
The door to Data's lab slid open.
"Knock knock," Tasha said as she stepped inside.
Data got up from his workspace and walked over to the door, slipping behind Tasha. From his angle, she was forced to turn around and face the door in order to talk with him.
"Hey, I got done early and wanted to drop this off," Tasha said.
She held out a thermos of herbal tea and a pouch containing his nutrient supplement.
"I know you've been busy," she said.
She leaned forward and cupped his face.
"Just don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?" she teased.
She was always looking out for his welfare. It was gentle reminder that he was a person too.
Tasha glanced around.
"I don't get how you can stay cooped up in here all day," Tasha remarked. "Must be some project."
Data was doing his best to regulate his breathing programme. Staring past Tasha's shoulder, he watched as the drill continued to execute the programme.
He was confident that he had coded it correctly. However, Data felt uncomfortable as he could not manually monitor the progress from this position.
"Thank you," Data said.
He needed to find a reason to send her away.
"My work is at a critical stage," he lied, grasping for straws. "It is not safe for you to be here."
Tasha's eyes narrowed and Data immediately regretted his choice. Anytime the word 'safety' entered the conversation, Tasha's ears perked up – particularly if a situation involved something that was a potential danger.
"Data, what are you working on?" Tasha asked, concerned. "This room isn't shielded."
"It does not involve radiation," Data assured her.
Tasha scanned the HVAC system along the wall and noted that it was operating within normal parameters.
She also recalled that the door had permitted her passage freely. The environmental safety controls that were employed whenever a lab worked with dangerous chemicals or noxious gases was not in use.
"You don't have the air safety system running," Tasha pointed out.
"It is not necessary for this project," Data answered.
His statement was the truth.
But it did little to assuage Tasha's concern.
"You will be late for your appointment with Worf," Data said as he ushered her out of the lab.
Tasha frowned but Data did not give her time to protest.
"I shall see you tonight," he said quickly before shutting the door.
Tasha shrugged it off. She had long ago come to terms with the fact that weird came with the territory of dating Data.
Data raced back to his workspace, catching the end of the drilling programme just in time.
He sighed in relief.
"Mmmmm," Tasha keened as she laid her head back against the cool tile.
At Worf's suggestion, they had decided to kick back for the evening at the onboard spa.
Sitting in a warm mineral soak, they were letting the water work its magic on their aching muscles as they grazed on a floating vegetarian charcuterie tray courtesy of Guinan.
"This was a good idea," Tasha admitted.
She'd been reluctant at first. But the pain in her legs had finally won out.
"There is honour in rest," Worf reminded her. "The best warriors recognise the importance of self-care."
Worf was a self-care guru. Whether it be meditation, a hot bath, aromatherapy, or massage, he knew all the tricks of the trade.
He credited his own solitary lifestyle adopted at Starfleet Academy with developing this habit. He had spent many evenings alone studying, working out, and trying to be the best person he could be.
Countless hours of quiet contemplation had allowed Worf to connect with his body and with himself on a spiritual level.
Worf held a deep appreciation for the Jewish faith in which Sergey and Helena Rozhenko had raised him. At the same time, he honoured his Klingon heritage by following the teachings of Kahless.
He lit both Shabbat candles and Klingon ceremonial Kor'tova candles in his home.
Like Worf himself, his faith was a blend of two cultures.
He had brought some of the Kor'tova candles along. They sat perched on the edge of the large, marble bath and filled the room with a strong scent of cedar and fir.
"You know we should do this more often," Tasha remarked as she let her feet float up to the top of the water. "Not just after a big training session."
Worf quirked an eyebrow at her.
"We?" he asked. "I do this once a week."
"You know the ship's pool has it all coming down to you and me in the final round," Tasha shared.
"I am aware," Worf replied with a hint of frustration.
Commander Riker, who always bet on the underdog, had put down twelve strips of latinum on Worf. While he appreciated the First Officer's faith in the matter, he didn't like being the underdog.
The next night, Data was back in the lab doing his best to pay honour to Tasha's beliefs by incorporating elements of the ancient Turkanan religion into her ring.
Turkanan religion was shrouded in mystery.
Tasha shared little and Federation records on the subject were scattered and inconsistent. Data had barely scratched the surface of it.
However, there were several key tenets of the faith that he did understand.
Data picked up the ring and delicately studied his work. Once the Rhodilium had been properly heated, Data had filled the inscribed letters with the substance.
Rhodilium was one of the rarest elements in the universe. It's unique atomic signature could be picked up over significant distances and was capable of penetrating through most forms of interference.
Data had wanted to use it in the ring's construction both due it's properties and symbolism. This ring would ensure that Tasha's signature could be picked up anytime she was on an away mission.
From a practical standpoint, it would help to keep her safe.
This offered Data peace of mind and he knew Tasha would appreciate the thought.
Furthermore, he wanted her to know that he would always find her – regardless of the circumstances.
iu sela, iu anwylyd
Data had inscribed the message in her native Turkanan.
My sunshine. My beloved.
Next Data used a needle-nosed work tool to pick up the final piece.
It was a sodium potassium aluminium silicate or was more commonly known as moonstone.
The gem had been polished to produce a milky, blueish-white almost cat-eye effect and would adorn the top of the band in a burnish setting. The gem was held in place using tension and two fine Rhodilium rods that were drilled through the side and into the bone.
It would be invisible once in place.
Once complete, he held the ring between his thumb and index finger and carefully studied each aspect.
Data was overwhelmed with a sense of wonder.
He was quite literally holding the key to his happiness in his hand. He was going to ask Tasha to make a commitment.
It was really happening.
The weight of that moment hit him like a quantum filament.
Data blinked rapidly before composing himself. A part of him wanted to rush through corridors, to make a ship-wide announcement declaring his love, to wake Geordi and share the news.
Data's eyes went wide.
According to his internal chronometer, it was 01:48.
Data's heart sank. He had promised Tasha a quiet evening in – dinner with just the two of them, a few chapters of Pet Semetary Planet, and a massage.
Feeling a deep weight of guilt, Data placed the ring in a box and moved it to the secured storage locker in the corner of the lab that was typically reserved for dangerous substances.
Data found Tasha asleep on the sofa under the window.
The artificial light from the ship's exterior was shining through and created an ethereal glow. She stirred but did not wake.
Tasha had fallen asleep there hours earlier. She had intended to stay up waiting for Data. But between the hot chocolate and the cosy blanket, sleep had won out.
Data scooped her up, blanket and all, and carried her into the bedroom.
"Hmmm?" Tasha said, shifting as she felt a change in position.
"I must apologise," Data said softly.
He gently put Tasha down on the bed but made no move to cover her up.
Data then sat down on the end of the bed. Pulling her legs into his lap, he set about massaging her feet.
Tasha groaned in appreciation.
"I did not mean to leave you alone," Data apologised. "I lost track of time."
"Mmm, that's okay. I know you're working on something important," Tasha replied with a yawn.
She relaxed as Data kneaded at the sore balls of her feet.
The last few days she'd gone hard. This tournament was Tasha's big event and she desperately wanted to hold onto that title.
It wasn't just her competitive nature driving that goal. As the Chief Security and Tactical Officer of the Federation's Flagship, Tasha felt obligated to win.
It sent a clear message that Tasha could be trusted to ensure the safety of everyone on board.
"Besides, it's probably for the best that you weren't here," Tasha remarked. "I spent a whole two hours shovelling down a family-sized tray of ziti."
Not that Data would judge her.
But there was something unceremonious about carb loading that Tasha preferred to do alone.
"But I like when you imitate a Tamias striatus," Data said. "It is cute."
Tasha kept her eyes closed but scrunched up her face in confusion.
"A chipmunk," Data clarified.
He moved just in time to dodge a playful kick.
Present
Falling asleep on the couch hadn't done much for Tasha's back.
Even Data's hands hadn't been able to work out all the pain.
Throughout the duration of the tournament, she had felt stiff.
And it was hard to float like a butterfly when you felt like a brick.
Nonetheless, Tasha felt compelled to perform. It was like an out of body experience. Every breath was sharp, every second felt like an eternity.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
This was it.
Tasha knew this was it.
She felt her left foot leave the ground.
The hands can't hit what the eyes can't see.
Tasha could see a thing. She had taken quite a blow earlier during her bout with Lieutenant Jae. Not only was her eye almost swollen shut, but she also had nasty gash and it stung every time a new bead of perspiration ran down from her hairline.
She felt the impact of something hard and heard a sickening crunch.
There were gasps of shock and awe as the crowd fell silent.
Worf was talking, shaking her shoulders, but Tasha couldn't make sense of what he was saying.
A low murmur went throughout the crowd.
Before she could ask what was happening, there was a roar from the crowd as Commander Parrish, the referee, yanked her arm up.
A second later, Worf scooped Tasha up and threw her over his shoulder.
Tasha spit her mouthguard out into her glove and looked up to meet a familiar pair of yellow eyes.
"What happened?" Tasha asked.
"You have won," Data responded.
"Oh," Tasha replied, dazed.
Tasha hissed as Beverly applied a cold compress to her eye.
"Hold that there. It will help with the swelling," Beverly ordered.
Tasha was sitting on a cot in Sickbay as Beverly tended to her wounds.
"You know I hate when this place is full," Beverly grumbled as she scanned Tasha's head with her tricorder. "Especially when we do it to ourselves."
Tasha was still trying to wrap her head around what had happened.
According to Data, the referee had made the call that ended the match. Apparently, Tasha had landed a powerful spinning heel kick.
While her aim had been for Di'oma's torso, she had actually impacted his arm.
Aikido wasn't about attacking. In fact, one of the principles of Tasha's training was that an attacker exposed themselves with each offensive strike.
It was part of why Tasha had developed a fighting style that drew out her opponent's vulnerability, forcing them to tire themselves out before she seized the opportunity. Her blows were rare, but meaningful.
Without intending to, Tasha had timed her strike simultaneously with Di'oma's looping right hand attack.
It was an aggressively charged strike that had been his signature finishing move throughout the tournament – he just hadn't counted on Tasha's speed and devastating kick delivering enough force to break his exposed forearm.
In response, the referee had ended the match.
Tasha had won by decision from the panel – by a meagre, single point.
"It was a hard-fought victory," Worf said.
Tasha could tell he was feeling down about his own loss.
"You know I couldn't have gone nine rounds with him," she confessed. "I don't think I could have gone another minute."
Tasha let her head fall to the side in order to grant Data better access as he gently washed away the grime on her neck and across her shoulders.
Following a short celebration in Ten Forward, they had retired to Data's quarters and his wonderful, large bathtub.
Tasha was perfectly content to let Data tend to her wounds – and took no small amount of pleasure in doing so.
The quiet of his rooms had been a welcome relief from the rambunctious crowd down in the lounge. Will Riker had switched his bet just before the final round. As Worf had been knocked out of the running, he'd put everything down on Tasha given that she was the new underdog.
He'd won big and had been in quite a mood to celebrate. After sharing in a post-match toast with Lieutenant Di'oma (who was a good sport), Data and Tasha had quietly slipped away.
Tasha's mind had been hazy ever since the fight and she just wanted to melt into a little puddle in Data's arms.
His hands worked their way over her sore muscles, washing away the sweat and blood, and soothing each ache with a soft kiss.
"You are an adept athlete," Data commented.
"Thank you, but can we talk about something else? Anything else?" Tasha requested.
Though she was facing away from him, Tasha could practically hear Data frown.
Tasha pulled his arms around her as she leaned back against his chest.
"I don't want to be the Security Chief tonight," Tasha said. "I don't want to be resilient."
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, relishing in the scent of salt and eucalyptus from the bath.
"I'm tired of being strong," Tasha confessed.
Strength was exhausting. It left her feeling drained.
In every emergency, every situation, Tasha always had to be the picture of calm, collected strength.
"When I'm with you I don't have to be that person," Tasha went on. "I get to be soft. I get to be safe."
Data held her a little tighter, wordlessly reassuring her that she could let down those walls when he was with her.
Tasha longed to be loved. Tenderly and wholly – not admired for how well she took a hit.
She wanted to be a butterfly - light and airy and beautiful.
Delicate.
She dreamed about being soft enough to land and sleep on some flower's velvety petals, safe in the hands of a tender exobiologist.
Data pressed a soft kiss to the top of her wet hair.
Gentleness.
And Joy.
And Love.
She had all of those things with Data and more.
All of a sudden, Tasha's hand came up out of the water. She brought it to her forehead.
"Oh gods," she exclaimed.
She felt terrible.
"I'm sorry, you were at the tournament all day," Tasha said. "And then I asked you to come back here. I was so selfish, I didn't even think. I hope your project isn't ruined!"
"Project?" Data asked, perplexed.
"The one you've been so invested in," Tasha clarified. "Gosh, I really hope I didn't screw anything up with this spontaneous soak in the tub."
The project.
Data fought the urge to cringe as he recalled his cover story.
"It is quite alright. It does not require my attention at this stage," Data assured her.
"Oh?" Tasha asked. "That's nice. At least I get you all to myself tonight then."
It was strange. Just forty-eight hours earlier Data had mentioned he was at a critical stage. Then he had been so wrapped up in it that he'd completely lost track of time the night before, toiling away in his lab until the wee hours of the morning.
Tasha didn't fully grasp all of the various areas of study that Data worked in, but she knew it was important.
"You're not just saying that for my benefit, are you?" Tasha pressed. "I mean, I completely understand if you need to slip out and check on it or-"
"That is not necessary," Data said, cutting her off.
She would work herself up into a flurry of self-doubt if Data didn't squash the matter soon.
"So tonight you're all mine?" Tasha asked.
"This night and every night," Data promised.