Author's Note: Thank you all for your likes, kudos, comments, and support.

And now on to part two.


"Someone has been taking advantage of the scheduled communications transmissions to piggyback encrypted messages between this ship and the Thomas Paine," Remmick explained. "I never would have found them except that someone on the Yamato used a Captain's channel transmission to radio a Priority One hail during your recent trip to rendezvous with the Berlin."

Remmick paused and cleared his throat.

"A trip in which the Enterprise has lost nearly twenty-fours of time that cannot be accounted for," Remmick explained.

Remmick sat down in the chair directly next to Tasha and slid the tablet back toward her.

"Whoever sent these messages knew enough to choose a time when their record would be covered up by the regularly scheduled ship's transmission. They knew enough to wipe the log, clean the device, and reset it," Remmick went on.

He was right of course – but Tasha also knew he had no evidence that could tie her to such an accusation.

"Someone knew which forensic countermeasures to use to cover their tracks," Remmick continued.

He sat back and folded his hands in his lap as Tasha glanced at the tablet.

"Now, when I examine who would have the training to know these steps and just which crew members have connections to the crew on the Thomas Paine, I'm left with a fairly short list," Remmick said.

It barely ruffled Tasha.

"Commander Remmick, none of this is a violation of Regulations nor a crime. Perhaps if you could tell me what it is you are investigating, then maybe I can assist you better?" Tasha suggested.

Remmick's stare was cold, his determination unwavering.

"What was in the letters, Lieutenant?" Remmick asked directly.

Tasha raised her eyebrows and put on the best face of innocence she could muster.

"Commander, you have presented no evidence linking me to these messages," Tasha said.

To her surprise, Remmick smirked.

"You have been very careful not to lie," Remmick commented.

Indeed she had been.

Tasha had learned from her legal training never to lie when questioned – it could come back to haunt her later if more evidence came out.

So she had chosen her words carefully so as to answer Remmick's questions with honesty and candour without offering any bonus information that might incriminate her.

Never admit fault – and never lie.

"What do you know about Romulan infiltration in Starfleet Command?" Remmick demanded.

"I'm afraid I'm not privy to that sort of information. I don't know of any Romulan infiltration," Tasha answered.

Truthfully, she didn't have any evidence – just an inkling.

"But surely you do suspect Romulan espionage on the Enterprise," Remmick pressed.

"Does this have to do with our incident at the Neutral Zone on Stardate 41636.9?" Tasha inquired.

She was referring to their run in with the Romulans following their mission to Angel One. There was no doubt someone (or a group) was involved in orchestrating such an elaborate cover for an information exchange.

Under the guise of a well-tailored deception, the Romulans had manipulated the Enterprise to the edge of the Neutral Zone, used a bioengineered virus to waylay most of the crew, and used a waste disposal unit to pass along ship's records, Federation information, Command codes, and technology.

It was that incident that had first got Tasha and Worf thinking the Romulan conspiracy went much higher than just their ship.

However, Tasha had stopped any investigation into such a conspiracy on orders from Captain Picard.

Her suspicion about a Romulan collaborator aboard the Enterprise was public knowledge – and recorded in her official Security logs. However, any mention of a higher, deeper conspiracy was strictly off the books.

"Funny you should mention that incident," Remmick began.

He got up from his seat to retrieve a tablet from the other side of the table.

"It would seem your Doctor doesn't possess the same expertise when it comes to forensic countermeasures," Remmick said as he slid the tablet over to Tasha.

Beverly?

Tasha's eyes narrowed as she skimmed the content on the screen. It was a letter from Starfleet Medical – specifically the Virology Division of Starfleet Medical's Epidemiology Department. According to the communique, some of the samples the Enterprise provided were unusable.

Though Beverly's notes and samples on the inoculant had arrived intact, the samples of the strain and it's unique base DNA were all tainted.

They had arrived damaged and there wasn't any extractable biological material left to work with.

Surely, he can't think Beverly's behind this because of some samples. Tasha considered.

"It's unfortunate they were unable to complete further study. But samples are often damaged in transit. Such is the nature of interstellar transport particularly with fragile materials requiring specialised containment and atmospheric conditions," Tasha said.

She was about to set the tablet down when Remmick leaned over her chair.

"May I?" he asked.

Tasha didn't understand.

Remmick swiped to the next page.

"I obtained samples from records your Doctor Crusher attempted to erase," Remmick explained. "I'll give her credit. She made a considerable effort to bury this. But she doesn't quite have the same finesse you do when it comes to covering your tracks."

Using two fingers, Remmick zoomed in one of the images on the screen.

"You see, that Romulan contagion was engineered from human DNA," Remmick went on. "In fact, this is the DNA sample your Doctor isolated and identified. Right here."

Remmick tapped the screen and a second image emerged next to the first. They were identical.

"They look the same, don't they?" Remmick asked.

"Yes," Tasha replied.

She couldn't deny that – even though she still wasn't sure just what she was looking at.

"There's a slight difference between the two. One your Doctor Crusher was clever enough to stumble upon," Remmick said.

Tasha shrugged and shook her head as she looked up at Remmick.

"I'm no scientist," Tasha said.

"Telomeres," Remmick said simply.

Tasha blinked as the word washed over here.

"I'm afraid I've never heard of it," Tasha confessed.

Her reaction seemed genuine, but Remmick wasn't sure if this was the truth or simply more of her expert composure.

"They're a compound structure at the end of chromosomes. In essence, they cap our chromosomes," Remmick explained. "In essence, they protect your DNA from degradation. Very important little buggers."

Tasha couldn't fathom how this could possibly relate to the Romulans or why Remmick was so obsessed with it.

Are they worried this was just a test run? Tasha thought.

The Romulans were no strangers to biological warfare. They'd destroyed more than one world through the use of biological agents designed to kill, maim, or sterilise their enemies.

"You see, in the last decade Starfleet Medical has made astounding breakthroughs in telomere dating. It's all very shockingly precise," Remmick said. "You see, this one here that's the virus. It was taken from a thirty-four-year-old human woman."

He tapped the image on the left.

"And this one here," he said, turning to the second image. "This was also obtained from the same human but at the age of twenty-seven-year-old to be precise."

Tasha was racking her brain as she tried to think of anyone onboard the Enterprise that would have the clearance and skill set needed to be a Romulan collaborator that was currently thirty-four.

She came up empty.

When Captain Picard had first presented the DNA evidence to the senior officers, his suspicion was that it had come from one of the senior Bridge staff.

Theories like time travel and alternate universes had been the only plausible explanation.

But Captain Picard had later come back and said it was all nothing more than a ruse to try and draw out the collaborator. He claimed the DNA was merely a part of that scheme and nothing more.

Remmick's fixation certainly made it seem that was all a lie.

"It was taken at your last annual physical exam," Remmick announced as he pointed at the second image.

Tasha's body stiffened.

"What's the future like?" Remmick asked.


"He's taking exams today," Beverly said.

"Good for him," Quinn replied. "If he's half as good an officer as his mother, I'm sure he'll be an asset to whatever team he lands on."

"He's not sure yet. Torn between Command and Engineering," Beverly shared. "He's bright. And I know he enjoys the work. But I think there's a part of him that likes sitting at the helm. Being in the heart of the action."

"Just like his father then, eh?" Quinn asked with a wry grin.

Beverly paused and set her fork down.

"You know I was worried. Wesley was so young when it happened. But there's so much of Jack in him," she said. "Especially here on the ship. He's really come into his own."

"I'm sure Jean-Luc's influence has brought some of that out," Quinn said knowingly. "They always were thick as thieves."

Beverly covered her mouth and laughed as she chewed on her toast.

Admiral Quinn had invited her breakfast and the two friends were having a grand time catching up. At least, Beverly thought they were catching up. She was unaware that she had been invited there in order for Quinn to extract information.

Specifically, information that he knew Commander Remmick would be unable to obtain.

"Beverly, I must confess that my invitation was not entirely just to catch up," Quinn confessed.

"This is about Captain Picard," Beverly said.

It wasn't a question. The certainty in her voice told Quinn she knew precisely what he was after.

Beverly set her teacup down on the table and straightened her posture.

"Well, out with it," Beverly said.

"What makes you think this is about Picard?" Quinn asked.

He wanted to set up his question as open-ended, to offer her that chance to divulge anything. From the way Beverly had reacted, Quinn didn't know if it was because she had noticed unusual behaviour that would prompt such an investigation or if she was merely making that assumption based on Remmick's line of questioning.

"Because I've known him the longest," Beverly answered.

"Maybe I'm investigating someone else?" Quinn suggested.

Beverly shook her head.

"Then I wouldn't be sitting here," Beverly pointed out.

Admiral Quinn got up from the table and began to pace.

"Beverly, we've known one another a long time," Quinn said. "So when I tell you this, I trust it will go no further."

"Tell me what?" Beverly demanded.

Quinn stopped and turned back to Beverly.

"I don't want to believe Jean-Luc Picard would ever willingly participate in some kind of conspiracy to undermine Starfleet," Quinn began. "But I have reason to believe he may be involved somehow in a matter I'm investigating."

Beverly scoffed.

"Jean-Luc Picard?" she asked. "You know if I hadn't spent yesterday being grilled I would have thought this was all some practical joke and the two of you were putting me on."

A dark look crossed Admiral Quinn's face as he sat back down.

"My Gods, you're serious," Beverly realised.

"I'm afraid so," Quinn said. "There have been a number of instances that have raised some concerns. The Energy entity you encountered. The Ferengi incident. Ordering you to cover up the origins of the Romulan contaminant."

Beverly blanched.

"There's not use denying it. I've had my best cyber forensics team digging through it for months," Quinn explained.

Beverly's mouth went dry. She didn't know what to say.

"Beverly, you're not in any trouble. And I don't want to see Jean-Luc in any trouble either. I want to help him," Quinn said. "I don't think he's been himself lately."

Beverly frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I need to know why he ordered you to cover up the DNA evidence found in the Romulan contagion," Quinn explained.

Beverly flopped back against the back of her seat and exhaled.

"I don't know," Beverly answered honestly. "He was disturbed by it. I know that much."

"But he didn't offer you an explanation? A reason?" Quinn asked.

Beverly shook her head.

"No," she said.

"And you didn't find that strange?" Quinn pressed.

"I did," Beverly admitted. "I thought he was getting pressure from above."

Suddenly Beverly's expression changed.

"You don't think Tasha's involved, do you?" Beverly asked. "She doesn't know about the virus sample. And I'm telling you, she was not on the Enterprise when that contagion was released. She's got no part in this, you have to believe me."


"What's the future like?" Remmick asked.

Tasha dropped the tablet. Her hands were trembling.

"I don't know," Tasha replied in earnest. "I don't know anything about this."

A chill swept through her body and settled in her core. Tasha felt lightheaded – like she'd run for too long without stopping to hydrate.

Remmick said nothing as he slipped into the chair beside her.

"I believe you," he said.

Tasha was stunned.

"Up until now you've been very careful not admit or deny knowledge of the communications, the discrepancies in the Enterprise logs," Remmick said. "But this, well-"

Remmick trailed off and lifted his eyebrows.

"Are we done here?" Tasha asked as she kept her eyes on the table.

"For now," Remmick replied. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Without a word, Tasha got up and left, doing her best to not to show any visible signs of just how distraught she was.

As soon as she was in the corridor, Tasha made for the nearest loo. Once inside, she sealed the door and immediately splashed her face with cool water.

Tasha hovered over the sink for a moment. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sound of the water running over her wrist in the sink.

Tasha had felt the same flash of sudden onset sickness before – once during the very Romulan incident in question and again several days later when they were in Ten Forward.

Overcome with sickness, Tasha barely made it to the toilet in time before dropping to her knees as breakfast made a comeback.


After cleaning up, Tasha returned to her quarters to brush her teeth and wash her face. She also wanted to get a cup of tea to help soothe her nerves.

Tasha sat down on the lavvy floor and leaned back against the cool tile.

She could think of no reasonable explanation for her behaviour other than nerves.

But why? Tasha thought.

For some reason, the incident at the Neutral Zone had left Tasha terrified. She couldn't shake the feeling.

It was no question that fear of confrontation with the Romulan Star Empire was a shared concern for many Federation citizens – particularly those that were old enough to remember the war.

The Romulans had wiped out millions without ever even showing themselves.

Romulans were like the dark itself – always present, lingering out there and full of things that could hurt you.

It had been decades since the last confirmed Romulan raid that resulted in capture – though there were always rumours.

Starfleet Intelligence believed the Romulans would typically keep prisoners alive only as long as they were useful. Torture was expected. And those that survived were sent away to join the slave labour force that helped feed the starving Romulan Star Empire.

They were used as agricultural labourers and shock troops – not because of any advanced training, but simply because they were considered expendable.

More than anything, Tasha feared a cage.

She'd been there before on Turkana. She'd been born into that life and knew exactly how it felt to be seen as nothing more than a commodity.

Turgon and his men treated their dogs better than they had treated her.

But even the memories of that time paled in comparison to the fear that gripped her heart when she thought of life as a Romulan captive.

As she lay there and stare at the ceiling above, Tasha felt utterly helpless.

Why did Beverly and Captain Picard not inform Tasha that DNA was her own?

Was Beverly ordered to cover it up?

Tasha's mind was consumed with an endless spiral of questions.

And is this why Captain Picard ordered Tasha to stop investigating?

Tasha suddenly sat up.

She was feeling lost and confused – and she knew that hiding wasn't going to get her anywhere.

Tasha scrambled off the floor and out into the main room of her quarters. Given that they wanted to stick close to the ship, Data and Tasha had rearranged their plans for the stop at Relva VII.

That meant Data was spending most of the day with Geordi down in the lab. He wouldn't be back for hours.

Tasha grabbed her PADD and logged into Federation records.

"Computer, pull all available information on the Romulan Commander Morak," Tasha ordered.

The tablet blinked to life as Tasha set it down and headed over to the replicator for a hot cuppa.

"General Morak Paliurus, Supreme Commander of the Fleet of the Romulan Star Empire," the computer read aloud. "Estimated age: one hundred and seventeen. Estimated place of birth: Romulan Star Empire."

You don't say? Tasha thought.

She'd learned long ago her sarcasm was lost on the ship's computer.

Tasha snagged her tea and settled down on the sofa to skim through what information was available – 'skim' being the operative word.

With so much tension between the Federation and Romulans, there was little available. As a prominent member of the Romulan military, there was more information available than most.

But the report was skint on details.

Most of the information had been gathered by Starfleet Intelligence and Tasha surmised they had probably only made public a limited share of what existed.

Some of the information came from diplomatic overtures. It seemed General Morak Paliurus had been involved in a number of overtures in 2344 and 2345 shortly after the disappearance of the Enterprise-C.

The last ship to carry the name Enterprise had disappeared in late 2344 with all seven hundred souls on board. It was a cruel reminder that all the advanced technology in the universe couldn't stop ships from simply disappearing. So it was for a life of discovery.

The Enterprise-C.

She was a ghost ship.

Tasha knew a fair deal about her. After all, Tasha had started the Academy in the years following her mysterious disappearance. Fears of the Romulans or Klingons knowing intimate details about Ambassador-class technology had coloured Security training in the decade that followed.

There was never any wreckage recovered and the ship had simply vanished from history while patrolling the area known as the Demon's Triad – the meeting point between the Federation, Romulan Star Empire, and Klingon Empire back during the days when Neutral Zones had existed (and been strictly patrolled) between all three governments.

It was always assumed one or more parties had been responsible for her destruction – and had used the opportunity to clean every scrap of debris in order to study Starfleet's flagship for information and technology.

Rumours of survivors had persisted for years but there had never been any proof. In any case, Tasha knew it was unlikely they'd still be alive today. It had only been twenty years, but she very much doubted that anyone could survive so long in Romulan captivity.

The Klingons claimed the Romulans had destroyed the vessel in an attack over Narendra III. Their assertion seemed to carry weight given the shortly thereafter the Empire had begun to pursue a formal alliance with the Federation.

2344 marked a turning point in Federation-Klingon relations, though it would be several more years before the Alliance was formalised and both sides began to draw down the defensive forces on their respective borders.

Tasha shuddered.

War always made her nervous.

Turning her attention back to the screen, Tasha swiped to the second page of Morak's information.

It seemed he'd been in the Romulan Military for some time but had only become the Supreme Commander of the Fleet in the last decade.

Tasha surmised that by Romulan lifespans, he was really only about middle-aged.

There had been a handful of reports mentioning his name throughout the last seventy odd years of Federation records – including a meeting with the famed Ambassador Spock during a Vulcan attempt to initiate peace talks in 2301.

According to Spock's account, the (then) Commander Morak was something of war hawk and no advocate for reconciliation with the Vulcans.

Though some among the Romulan delegation had expressed a sincere interest in unification, Morak was not among them.

It seemed Morak had made a counterproposal to Spock's offer for peace talks – one in which Vulcan surrender itself wholly and unconditionally to the Romulan Empire.

The Vulcan delegation of 2301 reported that they found Morak to be callous, unwilling to compromise, and more interested in wasting their time than legitimately pursuing peace talks.

The talks had ended when Vulcan Security forces had caught a Romulan team attempting to plant a surveillance programme in the Vulcan mainframe.

It was then assumed the entire overture for peace had been nothing more than another deception.

What a horrible man. Tasha thought.

"I feel sorry for whoever's stuck with that bloke," Tasha said aloud.

She sighed and set her tablet down.

There didn't seem to be any information that helped. Starfleet knew so little about the Romulans that there wasn't much to go on.

What was there did little to ease Tasha's anxiety.

And none of it explained the DNA evidence Commander Remmick had presented earlier.

Resigned she needed a higher power, Tasha set off for Ten Forward.


Beverly had said very little to anyone since her breakfast with Admiral Quinn. The whole affair had left her rattled.

Between Quinn's conversation and Remmick's intense interview, Beverly was feeling the heat.

There were questions about her recordkeeping, her methodology. Beverly felt like every aspect of her work was being held under a microscope – only the person holding the microscope wasn't just looking for answers, they were looking for cracks.

And Beverly wasn't the only Crusher feeling pressure.

"This will be the final question on the hyperspace physics test," the computer announced.

Wesley rocked his head side to side as he cracked his neck in anticipation of something difficult.

They were nearly four hours into the test, and he was beginning to feel the strain.

"If the matter and antimatter tanks on a Galaxy class starship are nine-tenths depleted, calculate the intermix ratio necessary to reach a starbase a hundred light years away at warp factor eight. Begin," the computer instructed.

Antimatter tanks.

Intermix ratio.

Wesley immediately knew that he could disregard all of the other extraneous noise in the question. The distance and speed were irrelevant.

Wesley typed in 1:1.

He sat back and sighed with relief.

The seconds on the large overhead clock ticked away as the test came to a close.

"Time elapsed. You now have one free hour before the next test," the computer announced.

"I must admit, Wesley. You have a fast mind," Mordock said.

"Once I realised it was a trick question, there was only one answer," Wesley said with a grin.

He'd been so ready for a complex equation that the final question had seemed rather amusing in hindsight.

"You don't know how lucky you are. I ca n't imagine what it would be like to have things come so easily," Oliana said.

"Oh no, Oliana. It doesn't come that easily," Wesley said, hoping to make her feel better. "I have to study all the time."

"It's a good thing you're cute, Wesley, or you could really be obnoxious," Oliana said.

Wesley's face flushed.

"I'm going to grab a coffee and a quick study sesh. Catch you late," Oliana said before leaving.

From his chair, Mordock studied Wesley's response with curiosity.

"She said I was cute," Wesley said in astonishment.

"Is that good?" Mordock asked.

"Yes!" Wes replied quickly before adding. "I think."

His brow furrowed as he considered this.

"I mean, I don't know," Wesley confessed. "It's the first time a woman's ever called me cute. Well, someone aside from my mum."

Wesley began to rock back and forth in his seat, spinning it from side to side.

"Now I don't know if she meant it as a compliment or if she was just trying to be nice because she sees me as a kid," Wesley pondered aloud. "Oh man, why does this have to be so complicated?"

Mordock shook his head.

"I am sorry. Human relationships are fascinating, yet confusing," Mordock said.

"Well what do you do when a girl thinks you're cute?" Wesley asked.

Wesley couldn't tell if Mordock was frowning or not – his reactions all looked the same.

"I'm a Benzite," Mordock said as if that answered the question.

He could tell Wesley didn't follow – a fact that didn't surprise Mordock in the least bit. As Benzar was not a part of the Federation, Mordock presumed (and correctly) that information on Benzite physiology and social structure was not a part of regular Federation curriculum.

"Wesley, we do not share the same mating and courtship rituals as humans," Mordock explained.

"Oh," Wesley replied. "If you don't mind my asking.. how do you erm-"

"I was born from a Benzite geostructure along with one hundred and thirty-eight other Benzites from my class," Mordock explained. "And I would be happy to discuss it with you. By comparison, I believe our method of reproduction is more efficient."


While they discussed the finer points of Benzite reproduction, Wesley and Mordock decided to step out and stretch their legs with a stroll around the base.

They had no sooner stepped into the corridor when a tall man bumped into Wesley.

"Oh, excuse me," Wesley said.

He took a step back and stared up at the huge man standing before them.

"You blocked my path, you Bulgallian sludge rat!" the man fumed.

"I'm sorry, it was an honest mistake. I apologise," Wesley said, hoping to smooth things over.

As if matters couldn't get any worse, Officer Chang arrived.

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" Chang inquired.

"No, sir. I-"

Wesley was about to admit fault for the encounter when the older cadet cut him off.

"How dare you! I am Rondon, you despicable Melanoid slimeworm! Liar!" Rondon bellowed as he raised his large, webbed hand and poked Wesley in the chest.

Webbed hand!

Suddenly, the man's strangely aggressive behaviour made sense.

Data and Tasha had been right – Wesley did have a tendency to observe things others might miss. Wes also knew to fall back on his knowledge and willingness to try.

Squaring his shoulders, he looked the larger man square in the eyes.

"Who do you think you're bullying? You bumped into me! It was your mistake. You were at fault. Do you want this to become violent?" Wesley shouted.

Rondon chuckled.

"Friend," he said with a smirk. "I like you."

Rondon flashed him a grin and then left.

Mordock blinked in confusion.

"A very strange reaction," Mordock observed.

As soon as Rondon had cleared the corner, Wesley relaxed.

"Not really," Wes explained. "When he raised his hand, I saw that it was webbed. He's a Zaldan."

"But you became hostile," Chang remarked.

Wesley nodded to indicate such a response was intended.

"Zaldans are infuriated by courtesy. They view it as a form of phony social behaviour, designed to cover true feelings," Wesley said, explaining his reasoning.

Officer Chang smiled.

"Congratulations, Mr Crusher. Well done. You handled that particular incident with exceptional skill," Chang praised.

Wesley couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth all over.

"Was this incident deliberate?" Mordock inquired.

"It is important to know how you candidates interact with other cultures," Chang explained.

It was neither an admission nor a denial.

"Excuse me, I must prepare for the next exam," Chang said.

"Geez I hope that was my live psychological observation. Not as intense as I anticipated," Wesley said.

"Zaldans have webbed fingers? I would not have passed," Mordock confessed.


Meanwhile back aboard the Enterprise, Commander Remmick was continuing his interviews with the senior officers.

Deanna couldn't pinpoint Remmick's motivation – but she was certain that he was withholding something from the rest of them.

Deanna's interview had begun with a series of rather strange questions. It was almost as if they had been designed to test her memory.

The questions were most certainly not a part of any routine investigation or Starfleet psychological examination.

"Do you believe that Captain Picard is emotionally and psychologically fit for command of this starship?" Remmick asked.

Deanna could sense that Remmick legitimately wanted an answer. However, she could also feel that this was not the end goal of Remmick's interview.

He wasn't just investigating Captain Picard.

"Yes, it is my professional opinion that Captain Picard is fit for duty," Deanna answered.

"Is there anything in his history or personality that would suggest mental lapses?" Remmick pressed.

"Nothing," Deanna replied.

"Not even the Ferengi incident with his old ship, the Stargazer? Or what about the mysterious energy being you encountered in the Beta Renner system?" Remmick asked.

He sure knew a lot about their mission logs from the last year.

"Captain Picard was being controlled by a mind-altering machine, Commander. Without his knowledge. And during the incident in the Beta Renner system, Captain Picard was only one of several members of the staff to be overtaken by an energy entity – it's intentions were harmless," Deanna argued.

The entity had killed a member of the crew by accident – but once it was able to communicate, it made clear that it had come in peace.

"Starfleet Regulations do not consider such incidents to be a mental lapse," Deanna said.

"I'll grant you that. Technically you are correct," Remmick said.

Deanna braced herself.

"But these two instances do show the Captain was susceptible to alien influence twice now," Remmick said.

He paused to make a note on his tablet.

"And a I note that in neither instance did you, in your capacity as ship's counsellor, step in," Remmick said. "Is it not your professional duty to identify such an occurrence before it becomes a risk to the ship?"


"Please take a seat," Commander Remmick instructed.

Will Riker remained standing as he crossed her arms.

"If you prefer to stand, fine. It will have no effect on the length of my inquiry," Remmick warned.

Reluctantly, Riker slipped into the seat at the end of the table.

"Now then, there are several discrepancies in the Captain's log. Let's go over them one by one, shall we?" Remmick asked.

"I have a feeling we will whether I agree or not," Riker said without missing a beat.

Remmick did not acknowledge the comment.

"To the best of your knowledge, has the Captain ever falsified a log entry?" Remmick asked.

"Have you discussed this with him?" Riker asked.

Remmick was unphased. He had anticipated this reaction from Commander Riker. Everything in Riker's profile had indicated as such.

"Right now, I'm asking you," Remmick pressed.


It was nearly 15:00 hours when a shaken Will Riker reached Ten Forward. He saddled up to the bar and leaned heavily on it.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look awful," Guinan said.

"Thanks," Riker replied.

"Sorry, it's just you look like somebody just outlawed jazz," Guinan said, noting the drawn look in his face. "Don't worry. I've got just the thing."

Guinan pat his hand and then headed off to the back room to fetch the perfect fix.

She returned a moment later with a hot fudge sundae.

Riker threw his head back and laughed.

"Don't laugh. These can cure anything," Guinan said as she slid it across the bar to him.

Will took the spoon from her hand and slid into the nearest barstool.

"Been serving them all day. You're not the first," Guinan assured him.

Will glanced down the row and noticed Deanna a few seats down. Her interview had finished shortly before Riker's and yet she was still at the bar.

By the time Riker had reached Ten Forward, Deanna had already polished off two sundaes and was currently working on a third.

"That bad?" Riker asked.

"Couldn't tell you if it was," Deanna said, reminding him of their orders.


Will Riker and Deanna Troi weren't the only two officers that had turned to Ten Forward to find some solace.

Tasha Yar had been sequestered away in the far corner for the better part of two hours. She sipped her signature whisky as she sat in silence, staring out at the inky expanse of space.

"Mind if I slide in for a moment?" Guinan asked.

"Not at all," Tasha replied.

Guinan slipped into the seat across from Tasha. She'd brought along a bottle of whisky. She freshened Tasha's drink before pouring one for herself.

"Need to rest my feet for a moment," Guinan confessed. "Not as young as I once was."

"I don't know how you do it with the hours you keep," Tasha remarked.

Guinan was always up.

"I find the older I get, the less I can sleep," Guinan said. "On the bright side, it makes that sleep I do get that much more enjoyable."

Tasha chuckled and shook her head.

"I don't know what I'd do without my sleep," Tasha confessed.

She relished in sleep. It was one of her favourite activities.

"Oh I can think of a few things," Guinan said. "Like sitting in dark corners, contemplating your place in the universe."

Tasha paused and eyed Guinan over the edge of her drink.

"How is that you always know?" Tasha asked.

"I hardly ever sleep, and I read people," Guinan replied.

For a few moments, the two friends sat in silence until Tasha found the courage to ask a question she'd pushed aside all day.

"Guinan, your gift-"

"It's not a gift," Guinan interjected.

"Sorry," Tasha said.

"It's alright. I'm not offended. I just wouldn't consider it a gift per say," Guinan explained.

"What would you call it?" Tasha asked.

Guinan had never been asked that question.

She sat back in her chair as she mulled over the question.

"My people have a relationship with the Universe. With all the life that exists within it," Guinan said, trying her best to explain it. "We're listeners."

Guinan's expression shifted.

"There are so few of us left now and so many voices that it's hard sometimes," Guinan shared.

"I'm sorry," Tasha said.

Guinan just shook her head.

"I've always found humans fascinating," Guinan confessed. "It's what first drew me to this part of the galaxy. All the stories. My homeworld was founded so far from anything because most of my people wanted somewhere that offered peace."

Guinan smiled.

"But I just couldn't stay away. I felt this calling," Guinan explained. "A curiosity to know just what life here was really like."

She'd always been tempted by it.

"In fact, I spent so much time away from home chasing that dream, following my curiosity, that when I finally returned home, it was shortly before it was destroyed," Guinan said.

She paused to take a sip of her drink before returning the glass to the table.

"I'm sorry," Tasha said.

With Tasha, such sympathy wasn't just a platitude. She genuinely knew that sorry didn't begin to cover what it felt like. And Guinan could respect that – it was part of why they'd hit it off so quickly together.

"Thanks," Guinan replied as she refilled her glass.

She put the stopper back into the bottle and then sat back in her seat, swirling the contents of her glass as she stared off into space.

"We knew there was a disturbance," Guinan said. "We knew something was out there. Coming for us."

"Is that why some of you made it out? Survived?" Tasha asked.

A pained look crossed Guinan's face.

"When we first sensed it was coming, we argued about how to handle it. There were great debates. Families torn asunder by their difference of opinion," Guinan recounted. "And in the end, we decided to investigate the matter."

She paused.

"Some people think that by going out to investigate we were looking for trouble. And in a way, that may be true," she acknowledged. "We lead it right back to my homeworld. It's possible that had we not gone searching for answers it might have been years, decades even before it found us."

Guinan took a sip of her drink and turned back to Tasha.

"But I suppose that's just speculation. Neither here nor there," Guinan remarked.

There were times Guinan looked at her and Tasha felt like Guinan was staring right through to her soul as if to study it.

"Guinan, what or who-"

"So far away and long ago that it's very unlikely," Guinan assured her, trailing off.

The rest was left unsaid.

"But the point is, my people had to make a choice. Knowledge isn't necessarily power. Sometimes there's power in knowing what not to pursue. Choosing to take no action is a choice," Guinan advised.

For a few seconds, Guinan held her gaze. She could sense that Tasha was teetering on the edge, trying to determine just how far she wanted to push.

"What I've learned is not to ask questions for answers I'm not prepared to handle," Guinan said.

"When you look at me, what do you see?" Tasha asked without hesitation.

She had to know.

"That you didn't sleep much last night," Guinan said.

Tasha made a face.

"I know that wasn't what you were looking for," Guinan acknowledged.

"I'm not sure I know what it is I'm looking for," Tasha confessed. "I'm not sure about anything anymore."

Tasha glanced down at the drink in her hand. On instinct she reached for the chain around her neck and began fiddling with the ring at the end.

"Anything?" Guinan prompted.

"I just can't shake this shadow," Tasha shared. "I feel like there's something lurking out there and it's just waiting to come ruin everything."

Tasha had always felt that way to a degree. Any moment of happiness was always followed by tragedy. Tasha spent half her life just waiting for the bottom to drop out.

"It's spooky," Tasha said. "It's just every time I think about it, I feel this emptiness. And bitter."

Anytime she thought of the Romulans and this conspiracy that was out there, Tasha was left feeling hollow – like all sense of emotion had vanished.

Even when she had been on Turkana, nearly dead or thereabouts, Tasha had never felt so numb.

"Bitter about what?" Guinan asked.

Tasha shrugged.

"The universe. The great cruelty of it all," Tasha said. "And I just feel powerless."

Tasha chuckled.

"We could ensure that no child ever goes hungry again. But we don't. Because of the Prime Directive. The Federation could end the Civil War on Turkana, but it won't. We don't help the Bajorans because of politics," Tasha said. "And there are thousands of people right now on Son'a colonies forces to work as slave labour and we don't even bat an eye because they're a trading partner."

Tasha flopped back against the back of her chair and scowled. She knew she was working herself up with her tangent, but there were times life truly felt so cruel.

"I know everyone feels bad and finds it morally reprehensible," Tasha said with an air of disapproval. "But they don't care enough to stop it because it doesn't impact them. They don't know what it's like."

"It's not your job to save the universe," Guinan reminded her.

Tasha set her cup down and began to pick at her fingernails.

"When I look at you I see someone that feels responsible to save everyone. Only you can't," Guinan said. "I also see someone that's found a home and happiness."

Tasha ran her thumb of the ring that hung from her chain.

"Sometimes those two things are linked. Related. Other times, they are diametrically opposed," Guinan went on. "And someday you may have to make a choice about which one is more important."


Wesley was sitting on a small bench in the corridor outside of the holodeck on Relva VII starbase.

He was feeling more confident than before, but still quite jittery in anticipation of his simulated psychological exam.

Wesley wasn't trying to be snoopy – but for the better part of the last half hour he'd been sitting outside straining his ears for any sort of sounds coming from the room.

It was his hope that such sounds might provide a clue as to what to expect.

Only it was silent.

Wes jumped as the door slid open and Officer Chang stepped out into the corridor.

"Mr Mordock will be finished with his psych test momentarily," Chang said.

He gave Wesley a short nod and then headed off.

It was several more minutes before the door opened again. When it did, Mordock stepped out looking shell shocked.

His entire body was shaking.

"Mordock?" Wesley asked.

He jumped up and rushed over to his newfound friend.

"Are you alright?" Wesley asked, studying him with concern.

Wesley guided him over to the bench and supported him as he sat down.

"I will be," Mordock assured him.

The screen next to the holodeck shifted images to display the next appointment.

Crusher Exam.

"Go," Mordock urged. "I'll meet up with you later. We can get a snack or something."


Wesley stepped onto the holodeck and was both relieved and surprised to find it had taken on the image of a small classroom.

There were bare walls and nothing more than a single chair in the middle of the room.

An interview? Wesley thought. Or perhaps an unsolvable problem?

Wesley sat down in the seat and waited.

He counted slowly in his head as the seconds ticked by.

For a brief moment, Wesley considered that perhaps his test was to simply sit in an empty room. After all, the silence was unnerving.

"Ok. I'm here. I'm ready," Wesley said aloud. "Maybe they're just running behind?"

All of a sudden, a large explosion rocked the holodeck.

Wesley rushed out to investigate.

There was a series of loud bangs – almost like over-pressurized gases bursting from coolant pipes. In the distance, Wesley could hear shouting.

The klaxons in the corridor began to sound.

"Evacuate immediately. Sixty-five seconds to seal off," the computer announced.

"Somebody help!" Wesley shouted as he rushed over to the door. "There's something wrong in the Environmental lab!"

The door slid open and Wesley immediately spied two men – one was pinned to the floor under a piece of piping.

The second was taking shelter behind a secondary support console. He was cut off from the door by a rupture in the coolant system. It was blasting noxious fumes.

Wesley knew that they would begin sealing this section to minimise the damage from the subsequent explosion. Without proper coolant piping through, the reactor would blow.

"Help!" the man hiding behind the console shouted.

Wesley scanned along the tube to see if he could find a shutoff valve.

"Help! We're trapped," the man on the floor shouted. "I can't move!"

Wesley couldn't be sure. It looked like the part of the piping where the relief valve was located had been destroyed in one of the bursts. He wouldn't know without further investigation – something he didn't have time for.

"We're going to die in here!" the man shouted.

The man on the ground was struggling to lift the pipe off his body. It was far too heavy, and he was at a disadvantage given the angle at which he'd fallen.

"The liquid hydrogen's going to blow! The shut off valve was ruptured in the blast. My legs are crushed!" he pleaded.

Wesley knelt down and tried to pull the pipe up. He wasn't strong enough.

Focus on you and your training.

Data and Tasha's words of advice echoed in his mind.

Wesley scanned the room and found a secondary piece of pipe. It would work to get leverage. Sliding it under the pipe, Wesley lined it up into place.

"Give me a hand with this!" Wesley shouted to the other man.

The second man was now cowering in the corner.

"I can't make it through," he cried.

"The hydrogen will burn, but it won't kill you. The blast will. Now come on!" Wesley ordered.

Summoning all his strength, Wesley grunted as he struggled to push the pipe off of the man trapped beneath.

It fell away with a loud clang.

"Come on! You can make it," Wesley hollered to the man in the corner.

"Fifteen seconds to seal off," the computer announced.

As the man on the ground had been injured, he could not walk. Using the same technique Wesley had learned in training, he slipped his arms under the man and dragged him to the door.

"Come on," Wesley called back.

He wasn't ready to give up on the other man.

"Come on. I know you can do it," Wesley said, hoping to encourage him. "I can't carry you both!"

But the other man was panicked. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving the safety of his corner.

"Ten seconds to seal off," the computer said.

"I'm sorry," Wesley said as the doors sealed.

The blast would follow, and Wesley knew the door would do little to protect them. He dove down to cover the injured man.

Only nothing happened.

Wesley sat up and looked around.

Officer Chang turned the corner.

"Officer Chang! There's been a terrible accident in the environmental lab, and someone is trapped-"

Chang extended his hand to help Wesley up.

"Wesley, it's alright," Chang assured him.

The injured man popped up from the floor and dusted himself off.

Wesley was stunned as the man shook his hand.

"Thanks," he said before marching off down the corridor.

The doors to the lab slid open and the other man stepped out.

"Excellent performance, Frank," Chang said.

"Nice work, young man. Stellar stuff," the man said as he gave Wesley a jaunty salute of approval.

Wesley blinked slowly as he tried to process what had happened.

"That was the test," Wesley realised aloud.

"Yes," Chang answered. "One you passed with flying colours."

Wes ran a shaky hand back through his hair.

"Someone could have died," Wesley remarked.

"Not likely. This is one of the holodecks. We fashion it to appear as another room," Chang explained. "You had to make a choice and you did. There was no right or wrong option. Your greatest fear has been that you couldn't make that decision. That you couldn't save everyone."

"Because of my father," Wesley said.

He now fully understood just how personal these psychological examinations could get.

"Because Captain-," Wesley stopped himself. "Because someone made that choice, and my father died as a result."

Chang clutched his shoulder.

"There are counselling services available down the corridor. Room 233. If you would like," Chang explained. "It is recommended but not required."

"Thank you, sir. I think I'd like to return to the Enterprise if that's alright?" Wesley said.

Chang nodded and left Wesley to himself.


The walk back to the Transporter Room felt like a dream. His feet seemed to carry him, keeping him on course even if his mind was lightyears away.

I passed. Why do I feel so rotten? Wesley asked himself.

He had replayed the scene over and over in his mind. There was nothing he could have done to help the other man. Had Wesley attempted to rescue the frightened man first, it was entirely possible that they all would have been 'killed' in the simulation.

Wesley had read plenty about officers that had cracked under pressure – losing their composure during emergencies. Such instances were rare, and they all often resulted in tragedy.

When the Pembroke had gone down, their helmsman had suffered an anxiety attack. Instead of diverting power to the impulse engines, he had fired the nacelles – killing thirty people when their escape pods jettisoned right into the oncoming path of the ship herself.

There were accounts from the Helios, Erebus, and Lublin in which officers panicked when confronted with such pressure. One had clung to a fellow officer, nearly preventing them from reaching an escape pod.

Another had mistakenly opened hull hatches rather than sealing a hull breach – a tragic accident that claimed fourteen lives on the Lublin when the occupants of deck 9 were quite literally blown out into space.

As he beamed back onto the Enterprise, Wesley reminded himself that it had only been a simulation. It was all over now.

And yet he couldn't stop wondering if there had been a way to save both men if he had just gotten there faster, freed the first man sooner, or not bothered with searching for the relief valve.

It had taken him less than fifteen seconds to sort that out – but that might have been enough time.

Maybe.

Wesley realised he would never know.

Could have, would have, should have. His mum would say.

Wesley was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he bumped straight into Lieutenant Yar on her way to the library.

"Oof," Tasha said as she caught him.

"Sorry," Wesley apologised.

"No bother. Hey, you alright?" Tasha asked, noting the withdrawn look on his face.

"Fine," Wesley replied.

Tasha frowned.

"Did you just finish your psych test?" Tasha inquired.

Wesley nodded.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" Tasha offered.

Wesley shrugged.

"I couldn't save everyone," Wesley said. "And-"

He stopped and sighed.

"I mean this was just a simulation and I can't stop thinking about it," Wesley shared. "Maybe this is a good thing? A sign I'm not ready."

Tasha reached up and clasped his shoulder.

"Did you follow your training?" she asked.

"Aye," Wesley nodded. "Passed with flying colours."

Tasha smiled.

"There then," Tasha replied.

"But I feel terrible. Inside," Wesley said as he clutched his chest.

He dropped his head and grumbled.

"I suppose it gets easier in time. With more experience," Wesley surmised.

"No. It never does," Tasha replied in earnest.

Wesley glanced up. His face fell. He felt completely dejected.

Tasha threw her arm around Wes.

"It never does. And it never should," Tasha explained as she led Wesley over to the lift.

"How do you deal with it?" Wesley asked.

Tasha was always so effortlessly composed during a crisis that Wesley wasn't sure how she managed it. He had always assumed it was because such choices were easy for her.

But her comment had him rethinking that assertion.

"I get up in the morning. Put me boots on. Go to poker night and pretend to feel like a person until I start to again," Tasha shared.

"I thought you were going to say you've got Data. And whisky," Wesley teased.

"And that," Tasha chuckled. "Neither of which I feel like sharing so let's get you a sundae instead, eh?"


Data sat patiently at the end of the table in the Observation Lounge as Commander Remmick prepared his tablet to take notes.

It was Data's second interview in two days. Remmick had advised that he would need to meet with Data and Commander Riker more frequently to cover various aspects of the investigation as they came up.

However, Data felt that Mr Remmick appeared to be fishing for anything and everything.

Data had been down in his lab with Geordi. Remmick's arrival had upended everyone's plans for the three day stop at Relva VII.

It was a disappointment that he wasn't going to get his lazy holiday with Tasha. Nonetheless, he was making the best of it by working on a few pet projects in the lab with Geordi.

They had a list of dream projects and there was never enough time. Geordi called it their Never-ending List – though Data was keen to remind him that there were only seven hundred and thirteen projects on the itinerary.

They'd been nearly through setting up for a second round of tests when Data had been paged by Remmick and ordered to report to the Observation Lounge.

"There is a problem with this ship, Mr Data. It's in the records, somewhere. I need your help," Remmick said.

"All of the ship's records are available to you, sir," Data said.

Remmick seemed amused.

Data decided to take a risk and press a question that had burned on his mind since his first interview.

"I thought I was under investigation. Forgive me, but your line of questioning-"

"You were," Remmick admitted. "You've been cleared."

"Then you have another suspect?" Data asked.

"Everyone's a suspect," Remmick replied.

It was hardly an answer.

"Why do you require my assistance?" Data asked.

"As I said, there's a problem on this ship," Remmick began.

"Actually, you stated there was a problem with this ship," Data said, correcting him.

Silence fell between the pair.

Perfect recall. Remmick thought with delight.

"Neither statement explains why my assistance is required in such a matter," Data said.

"Someone on this ship is not what they appear to be," Remmick explained. "Very cleverly hidden, in fact."

Data was not surprised by this information. Tasha had come to him long ago – even well before the Romulan Incident with concerns about Romulan espionage aboard the ship.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time the Romulans had weaselled a plant onboard a Starfleet vessel.

It would be foolish to presume they were immune to such tactics. They were hardly unavoidable – the trick was in ensuring nothing too precious walked away.

"You have the ability to spot minute details and changes in people. You know how to study behaviour and patterns," Remmick said. "And from what I read in your file, you can identify things like heart rate and body temperature. Signs that someone may be lying or at the very least, withholding information."

Remmick looked up from his tablet and down to where Data sat perfectly poised at the far end of the table.

"In the last eighteen months, have you noticed any unusual behaviour? Perhaps someone sending or receiving messages, hiding their communications, tampering with their devices?" Remmick inquired. "Late nights or early mornings spent on their tablet? Or at an office computer terminal?"

Stardate 41280.7.

They had been nearly to the bedroom when Tasha's PADD and pinged with an incoming message. Tasha had told Data she would right in.

And then right in became several minutes.

When he'd returned to check on her, he'd found her doing the most peculiar thing.

"Why are you wiping the memory files on your PADD?" Data asked.

Tasha froze.

"Oh? Is that what I just did?" Tasha questioned, feigning ignorance.

Data cocked his head to the side.

"It was wonky. I was trying to restart it," Tasha lied.

"You removed the communications circuit chip, not the power reset," Data advised.

Engineering wasn't exactly Tasha's speciality, but it was fairly basic Starfleet technology. Data was surprised that she would make such an error.

"If you are experiencing a problem with your PADD I could check into it for you," Data offered.

"No!" Tasha said quickly.

Too quickly.

"I-I don't want to bother you," Tasha covered. "I'll take it to one of the diagnostic engineers in the morning."

She was clutching it tightly – a fact that did not go unnoticed by Data.

"It is no trouble," Data assured her.

In the end, Tasha had put him off the idea – insisting that she was using her PADD to plan a surprise for him. Though now that Data thought about it, Tasha's eventual surprise involved nothing that required the use of such a device.

Thinking back, she'd spent more than a few late nights and early mornings in deep concentration as she clutched her PADD tightly just out of his line of vision.

She'd often claimed to be reading shinty scores or skimming through the latest Starfleet bulletins. But she seemed far too engrossed for it to be anything so trivial.

"Mr Data?" Remmick prompted.

Data's recollection had taken all of half a second – but it was enough time to make Remmick wonder.

"I am merely reviewing my memory engrams from the time in question," Data replied.

It wasn't a lie. Technically, Data had been truthful – even if it conveniently left out the findings of such a review.

She had shared with him her fears over all the transfers and strange disappearances – Starfleet officers being reassigned with no logical pattern, people simply vanishing or dying in unusual accidents.

But Tasha had been directly ordered to lay off any such investigation.

Had she violated that order? Gone behind Captain Picard's back?

And kept it hush hush to protect Data?

In fact, following Data's hearing on Starbase 173 there had been a mass arrest. Nine prominent Starfleet officials (including Bruce Maddox and Admiral Josiah Walsh) had been implicated in a conspiracy to aid the Romulans.

Data didn't buy it for a minute. He had an inkling that Maddox was merely a convenient fall guy to cover for someone else.

And Tasha had asked Data not to dig any deeper.

Pleaded, in fact.

"How long do you anticipate your recollection will take?" Remmick inquired.

"Unknown," Data answered.

He needed to buy time.

"I must review every memory engram for the last eighteen months. That will take considerable time," Data said. "As you are aware, there are over a thousand people on the ship."

"Well you can skip the children," Remmick said.

His voice contained a hint of frustration. He'd read the android could be quite literal – he just hadn't counted on him being so oblivious.

"Any other parameters?" Data inquired. "To help narrow my search?"

Data figured he might as well lean into it. He needed time to think about how to proceed.

"The individual or individuals in question would have to be someone with a command authorisation level or departmental head or above. They'd be well-trained and have some experience or knowledge in communications technology, command procedures, and covert operations," Remmick explained.

Data hadn't been expecting things to get that specific.

Remmick got up from the table and approached Data.

"Focus your attention on this list," Remmick instructed as he slid a tablet in front of Data.

Data's eyes narrowed as he skimmed the list of names.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard

Commander William T. Riker

Doctor Beverly Crusher

Lieutenant Natasha Yar

Lieutenant Worf Rozhenko

Chief Miles E. O'Brien

There were a handful of other names including Doctor Selar (whom Data suspected was on there because of her Vulcan heritage and being Beverly's second in the Medical department) and the likes of Lieutenants Jae, Hawk, and Olivet due to their communications and Bridge expertise.

"Report back to me as soon as you complete your analysis. No later than 09:00 tomorrow," Remmick ordered.


Wesley was still in Ten Forward. Mordock had sent a message saying he would prefer to spend the evening alone and process his test results, so Wesley had the evening to himself.

He was sitting alone at a table reviewing his notes for the General Protocols & Chain of Command exam the following morning when he noticed a shadow slip into the seat across from him.

"What is it down to now? Five? Six more exams until you're officially off to San Francisco?"

Wesley looked up from his notes to find Jake Kurland seated across from him.

"It's not guaranteed," Wesley said. "I wish you could meet the other finalists. Just being in a room with other people like that – it's so stimulating to have that kind of competition."

Jake's face fell.

"I-I didn't mean it like that," Wesley said quickly. "I just meant-"

Jake waved him off.

"I'm fine, really," Jake assured him.

"I'm sorry," Wesley apologised. "I just meant that, well, I think you'd really enjoy it too."

Wesley fell silent. Things had been awkward between the two ever since Wesley had won the Academic Excellence Award. Jake had worked so very hard for that accomplishment. Some of the students (and parents) felt it wasn't quite fair that they had to compete against Wesley.

Jake was one of the only students that didn't hold Wesley's intelligence against him.

"I wish both of us were going," Wesley said.

And he meant it.

Jake sighed.

"I don't mind so much. I just," he paused and frowned. "I know my dad was really hoping I'd follow in his footsteps."

"And next year, you will," Wesley said.

All of sudden, Wesley's face lit up.

"Second year students get roommate preference – I could apply for you to join me," Wesley offered. "That way we're guaranteed to be roomies."

"Silver linings," Jake replied with a wry grin.

Jake waved him off.

"In any case, you'll probably meet new friends, or you'll be shacked up with some bird in a little flat," Jake teased. "Class at eleven. Dinner at five. A bit of crumpet at seven."

Wesley blushed and turned his attention back to his tablet.

"Do well for both of us, eh?" Jake requested.

"Maybe I could smuggle you out in my luggage?" Wesley said as he tapped his chin, feigning deep concentration.


"How did this contaminant get aboard the ship?" Commander Remmick asked.

"Sabotage," Worf replied simply.

Remmick did not look up from his tablet.

"You were one of the officers involved in the investigation of the suspected Romulan contaminant?" Remmick asked.

"Yes," Worf answered.

It had been a struggle to get more than one-word answers from Worf.

"Your investigation failed to identify the culprit. And yet you are certain it was sabotage," Remmick remarked.

Worf immediately saw red.

"Our investigation was thorough. By the book," Worf fumed as he slammed his hand down on the edge of the table.

Worf did his best to control his temper – but when his work was questioned, he could explode with righteous fury. After all, Worf's integrity and honour were such deep parts of his identity that he couldn't stomach having them questioned.

Worf had worked hard to prove himself.

Harder than most.

As the first (and only) Klingon in Starfleet, Worf was desperate to prove his allegiance to his adopted home.

"And you believe it was sabotage?" Remmick asked.

"It was sabotage," Worf insisted. "The Romulans have often used such tactics."

Remmick looked up from his tablet as if he were suddenly very interested in the conversation.

"I'm glad you raised that point," Remmick said. "What can you tell me about Klingon-Romulan relations? Your people have had a long, interesting relationship."

Worf clenched his jaw.

"Hot and cold depending on which way the wind blows," Remmick remarked. "Is that why you applied for the Enterprise? Such a prestigious posting. Access to the latest Federation technology. All at your fingertips."

Remmick shrugged.

"I suppose one could make a fortune peddling information and proprietary technology to the Romulans," Remmick said. "You'd hardly be the first Klingon to do so."

Worf was precisely where Remmick wanted him. When people got angry, they made mistakes. Talking to Worf had been like trying to get answers from a brick wall.

Remmick felt he had to break him, bring him to the point where Worf was off guard so that he would open up.

Worf sneered as he stared down at Remmick.

"How dare you," Worf spat.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" Remmick asked.

"Is it required, sir?" Worf demanded.


It was close to 19:00 hours when Data reached Tasha's quarters. They were due to join the rest of the senior crew in Beverly's quarters for an evening of cards.

He stepped inside and immediately stopped.

As he surveyed the room, Data felt as if he had stepped into a Dixon Hill holodeck programme. Every available inch of the table was covered in notes, tablets, and small, erasable whiteboards often used in trainings.

It extended to the coffee table and a good share of the carpet. Tasha had removed the lace from her boxing gloves (and the spare she kept in the dresser). When that had run out, Tasha had opted to use Data's yarn from his knitting club.

There were bits of it all over the floor connecting different notes to one another.

Data's eyes travelled along one piece of neon blue string, following it across the carpet and up to the far wall where (once more) it was covered with notes that had been neatly tacked on.

Stardates. Lists of ships. Locations throughout Federation space.

It was like following a trail of breadcrumbs – only Data had no idea what for.

Tasha had her headphones on. She knew Data didn't much care for the kind of heavy rock she liked. So she often wore her headphones at home in order to avoid blasting his audio receptors.

Data was far more sensitive to picking up sound.

She was humming to herself as she danced about, carefully placing another note on the floor between 'Starbase 36' and 'Deep Space 5.'

Tasha turned and was startled by Data's presence. She stumbled backward – Data catching her by the arm just before she landed on a stack of notes that covered questions like 'Ferengi Thought Maker?' and 'Centaurian slug?'

"What are you doing here?" Tasha asked as Data pulled her up to her feet.

"We are due at the Crusher residence in one hour, fourteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds," Data reminded her.

Tasha bit her lip and glanced around the room.

"I take it you didn't get my note?" Tasha asked.

"Note?" Data inquired as he cocked his head to the side.

"I'm going to stay in tonight. I'm not much feeling up to going out," Tasha confessed.

"Then we will stay in," Data said simply.

"No! No! You should go," Tasha encouraged as she pushed him toward the door.

But it was pointless to try and direct Data anywhere. His eyes had fallen on one note in particular.

Romulan connection.

Data looked from Tasha to the note and back again.

"You are investigating a Romulan conspiracy," Data realised. "Were you ordered to resume this?"

"No," Tasha admitted.

There was a soft intake of artificial breath.

"Then you are violating Captain Picard's orders," Data said as he surveyed the room.

"Not exactly," Tasha said.

Data stood motionless as he attempted to process this information. Suddenly, he turned to Tasha.

Instinctively, she backed toward the table.

"I'm not investigating a Romulan Conspiracy," she said.

"But you are," Data insisted as he stepped closer. "Travel logs, the disappearances."

"I'm tracking where Quinn and Remmick have been," Tasha explained. "I'm trying to determine what they're looking for and, and how it relates-"

"If you are about to divulge information from your interview with Commander Remmick, may I remind you that-" Data warned as he drew closer.

"Me!" Tasha said.

He'd backed her up to the table now. Data stopped. For the first time in their conversation, Data could see she was truly distraught.

"Me," Tasha repeated in a much softer voice.

She glanced down at the carpet and sniffled, trying her best to hide that she was overcome with emotion.

"They're using different ships to get around logging one flight plan. And around they've been. The Kyushu, the Yamato, the Odyssey," Tasha listed off.

She was rambling, trying to avoid talking about why she was so interested.

"They were at Yorktown a few weeks ago and then I lost track of them. But I picked up the trail again when they were at Starbase 247," Tasha went on. "Based on the dates, I can deduce they used the Sutherland and then the Bucharest before-"

Tasha paused as Data held her gaze. There was a strong, disapproving look on his face.

"Before transferring to the Baalsrud," Tasha went on slowly. "Which begs the question why an Admiral and an officer of the Inspector General's office are sneaking around on-"

She stopped as Data put a finger up to her lips.

"You are investigating precisely what Captain Picard ordered you to stay away from," Data said.

"I'm not," Tasha protested. "I think that's what Remmick and Quinn are investigating. But I don't know if that means they're working or against it. I'm looking at them - not the Romulans."

"I believe you are tiptoeing up to a fine needle," Data advised.

"Threading a fine needle? Tiptoeing up to the line?" Tasha offered with a smirk.

Data's face fell.

"It would seem I have juxtaposed two idioms. Forgive me. I shall have to study further before employing them again in conversation," Data said.

"No, no," Tasha assured him. "I like when you do it. I think you're adorable when you come up with your own new phrases."

She was trying to change the subject – but Data wasn't falling for it.

"What did you mean when you said this situation has something to do with you?" Data asked.

Tasha hesitated to answer only, Data looked so hurt that she couldn't leave it at that.

"Are you asking as my partner? Or as my Commanding Officer?" Tasha inquired.

"It is a fact that I am both," Data replied.

He reached up to cup her face.

"Tasha, we made a promise that our personal relationship would never interfere with our working relationship. We swore under oath - at a hearing - that we could separate the two," Data reminded her.

"I know," Tasha replied. "I know but-"

She trailed off and frowned.

"This is different. This is… look I don't know what's going on. And that's what bothers me. I'm not certain of anything anymore," Tasha confessed.

She tried to step away, but Data caught her.

"What do you mean?" Data pressed.

"I don't know. Honest," Tasha replied. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

This fear of the unknown had bothered Tasha all day, settling deep inside of her. And Tasha wasn't sure she could shake it until she had answers.

Data let her slip away to step over to the replicator for a drink.

"Tasha, I am sure we can clear this matter up once the investigation is finished," Data said. "You would never do anything to put the Enterprise at risk."

Tasha turned back with a short glass of whisky in hand. She leaned back against the wall and studied Data's reaction.

"We will clear your name," Data declared.

"Look, you should go to Beverly's. I've got a lot of work to do and probably best if you aren't involved," Tasha said.

She looked over to the window and out into the inky expanse that surrounded the ship.

"This is my home. Our home," Tasha said. "You know that I would never betray that, right?"

She stopped and sniffled and she fought back tears. It hurt to have her loyalties questioned. Tasha had dedicated her life to Starfleet.

Data was there in an instant to thumb away the tears.

"I know where your loyalties lie," Data assured her.

Tasha reached up to take hold of his hand.

"Go," she said. "Make my apologies. Say I've got headache."

"I would rather stay here with you," Data said.

Tasha smiled.

"I know," she assured him. "But I think this is something I need to do alone."


Up on the Observation Lounge, Dexter Remmick packed his series of tablets and notes into a briefcase and closed the lid.

With his materials in hand, he marched out and through the Bridge.

As soon as he stepped on there were a dozen pairs of eyes on him.

Remmick knew exactly how it felt to be the one no one liked. It came with the job – even if it was difficult at times.

He sat alone at pubs. He took lunch by himself in his quarters or guest quarters because he knew that there would be no one to sit with in the canteen.

Adding all the recent travel, Dexter Remmick supposed it was a good thing that his divorce was finalised the year before as there was no way his relationship would have survived this most recent assignment.

Remmick pinged the door to the Admiral's guest quarters.

"Come in," Admiral Quinn called out.

Remmick stepped inside to the Admiral preparing for dinner.

"And how did it go?" Quinn inquired.

"So far, everyone checks out. Their accounts are consistent," Remmick reported. "No has lied as far as I can tell, but they're keen to protect one another. And no one is talking about Dalmeade or the Romulan installation found there."

"Loyal to a fault," Quinn chuckled, amused to see Jean-Luc inspired such devotion from his crew.

Only Mr Remmick wasn't laughing.

"Sir, I think it's a good thing," Remmick said. "They're very close. All of them. There's a camaraderie there that's hard to find."

"Oh?" Quinn asked as he set the table.

"Indeed," Remmick went on. "I think if one of them was compromised that the others would have noticed by now."

Remmick paused.

"That kind of friendship, their frequent time together – it lends itself to knowing people in a way that can only come from intimacy and proximity," Remmick explained. "They'd know if something was off. They'd see it in one another."

Admiral Quinn stopped to pour a glass of wine. He looked up at Remmick, wordlessly offering him a pour.

"No, thank you, sir," Remmick replied.

He didn't drink – it was too risky in his role with the Inspector General's office.

"Well, hopefully that assumption pays dividends tonight," Quinn remarked.

He was hoping to leverage his long friendship with Captain Picard in order to get some answers.

"Forty years has to be worth something, eh?" Quinn said. "You're welcome to stay."

"No, sir," Remmick said. "I think this is a conversation best had between you and Captain Picard."

Quinn nodded in understanding.

"Stop by in the morning," Quinn ordered.

"Of course, sir," Remmick replied.

"Oh, how did you get on with Lieutenant Yar?" Quinn inquired.

"She seemed genuinely surprised by the DNA evidence. I don't think she knows anything, sir," Remmick said.

In fact, if Remmick didn't know better, he'd say Tasha Yar had seemed spooked by it – not that he could blame her.

"Alright then, stay on it," Quinn ordered.


Back down in her quarters, Tasha was pouring over her notes as she tried to piece together any possible connection.

Months earlier, Captain Rixx had mentioned he was in contact with Lieutenant Commander Remmick.

Tasha desperately wanted to reach out to Rixx and ask his opinion on the matter. But she was concerned that their messages weren't nearly as private as they had previously thought.

She couldn't risk looking more suspicious than she already did.

Tasha's first thought had been that whoever the Romulan spy or spies aboard the Enterprise were, that their plan had been to frame her.

They could have obtained a sample of her blood from Tasha's medical records.

Only Tasha couldn't work out how they would have smuggled it off and back. If the Romulans had gone to such great lengths to coordinate a rendezvous with the ship to transport materials and information, it seemed unlikely they would be able to coordinate such a scheme to get the original sample aboard.

Tasha had combed through months of check-in logs from materials brought aboard and she'd found nothing.

She considered it was possible that the sample had never left the ship. But that would mean the work to engineer the virus would have been completed on the Enterprise.

Science wasn't her forte. Yet Tasha knew such a project would require access to the medical labs, reserved space, a degree of privacy, and the ability to store such a project without much oversight – something reserved only for the most senior researchers.

There were a handful of people at best who had such access.

Beverly.

Doctor Selar.

Doctor Snow, the head of Bioengineering Research.

Tasha flopped back against the floor and sighed.

It was an awfully big risk for a Romulan spy to undertake such a project. Rather, Romulans typically used whatever means they could to have others take a risk. They were known to hire assassins, black-market traders, and mercenaries to complete work for them.

They sold equipment, weapons, and technology to the likes of Nausicaans, rogue Klingons, and anyone willing to do their dirty deeds for a price.

For a price.

Tasha gasped and sat up.

It couldn't be. But then again…

She knew that DNA samples kept for years. There were all sorts of samples, viruses, and biological agents stored in the medical lab there were years – even decades – old.

It was the only logical explanation.


"I say, you must join me tomorrow for dinner in our Ten Forward," Picard said.

"I'd be delighted," Quinn replied.

It was easy for the two men to talk. In a way, it was like no time had passed. As the years had gone on and Jean-Luc and his friends had found themselves with their commands, it grew more difficult to stay in touch.

Especially given that Jean-Luc Picar d had always been one to avoid social gatherings and networking summits like the plague.

"How's Joan?" Picard asked.

A brief look of pain showed in Quinn's face and Jean-Luc immediately regretted the question.

"She's living on Lancaster colony with our daughter. Helps with the grandchildren," Quinn replied. "Before you ask, I'm fine. I suppose I always knew things would turn out like this."

Jean-Luc wasn't quite sure what to say.

"You're lucky you never settled down. Save yourself the trouble," Quinn remarked. "You and Walker. You two had it right."

Like Jean-Luc Picard, Walker Keel had chosen to pursue his career over starting a family.

"Do you ever see Walker?" Picard inquired.

"Not as much as I'd like," Quinn replied.

He stabbed a piece of potato with his fork. Travelling around as much as he did, Quinn was used to life on his own.

"Truth be told, I've been grateful for the company of Commander Remmick these past few months," Quinn said.

Jean-Luc quirked an eyebrow at Quinn.

"He may seem prickly, but it's just part of his act," Quinn assured him. "He's a good officer. A damn good officer."

"Well I can tell you he's got my entire crew in a right state," Picard shared.

"I am sorry about that. I know it hasn't been easy for you or your team," Quinn acknowledged.

"You can say that again," Picard responded. "Any chance you ever plan to tell me what this is all about?"

Picard picked up his glass of wine. He took a long sip as he sat back in his seat, giving Quinn time to weigh the question.

"I'm going to ask you a question, Jean-Luc. And I need you to answer me with complete candour," Quinn prefaced. "I've known Beverly Crusher a long time – long as I've known you."

Jean-Luc responded with a stiff nod.

Beverly?

She couldn't possibly be under investigation.

"Jack was the best of the best. I know it hasn't been easy for her. Widowed. A young son," Quinn went on. "And I know you're close with the family."

Picard sat up straight as he listened intently. He didn't like where Quinn was headed.

"I know she's a fine officer. And I know you share a friendship. It's only natural when you've been friends so long that it can't help but bleed into your professional responsibilities," Quinn said.

"Beverly Crusher and I do share a friendship. That is where it starts and ends," Jean-Luc said tersely. "And I resent any implication that there's been impropriety between us!"

Admiral Quinn simply put his hand up.

"And I'm not implying anything," Quinn assured him.

He sat back and folded his hands across his stomach.

"Only I know Beverly Crusher wouldn't have buried the evidence about your little run in with the Romulan contagion without a good reason," Quinn said.

"On my order," Picard snapped. "If you've come all this way because you think that Beverly is somehow involved, well I hate to say you've wasted a trip."

"Why?" Quinn asked.

Jean-Luc fell silent.

"Why?" Quinn pressed.

"In the spirit of candour, would you believe the Temporal Prime directive?" Picard asked.

To his shock, Quinn didn't seem phased at all.

"What did she offer you as an explanation?" Quinn asked.

Jean-Luc sighed.

"She wasn't pleased. Demanded to know why I was burying it. You know how she is. Too damn curious," Picard remarked. "I don't have to tell you it caused considerable strain."

"I don't mean Beverly," Quinn clarified. "Yar. Your Lieutenant. How does she explain this?"

Jean-Luc froze.

When Beverly had first approached him with the discovery that Tasha's DNA had been used to create this Romulan bioweapon, Jean-Luc had experienced his fair share of suspicion. But there was simply no evidence that could tie Tasha to any sort of collaboration with the Romulans.

Jean-Luc had revealed the evidence to the crew – but he'd strategically kept Tasha's name out of it.

His conversation with Deanna after the briefing had confirmed that Tasha had no knowledge or involvement in the matter. She'd been just as stunned as everyone else.

Jean-Luc had played off the incident as simply a test of their loyalties. He'd assured the crew that the evidence had merely been a fabrication and they'd left it at that.

He couldn't very well tell Admiral Quinn he'd made that decision based (in part) on the advice of Guinan. There was no way Jean-Luc could even begin to explain that relationship and the faith he had in Guinan's counsel.

"She doesn't know," Jean-Luc said. "She doesn't know anything. She thinks it was all a ruse to try and suss out if any of the officers were part of the Romulan conspiracy to plant it on the ship."

From across the table, Quinn anticipated Jean-Luc's question.

"I had my cyber forensics team digging through your logs for months," Quinn informed him.

"Beverly was only acting under my orders," Picard insisted. "And I want to be clear that I do not believe Tasha Yar is involved. She wasn't even on the ship when the contagion was released."

The subject matter was uncomfortable, but Jean-Luc was glad to finally get it off his chest.

"The only explanation my team could come up with was that either the Romulans have come a long way in their bioengineering technology without us getting wise or-"

"Time travel," Quinn finished for him. "My team reached the same conclusion."

"I'm sorry about the pretence. But we had to be sure you are who you say you are," Quinn said.

Jean-Luc's eyes narrowed as he listened to Quinn's explanation. He was hesitant to share much, but he owed Jean-Luc something.

"Someone has infiltrated the Federation," Quinn said.

"We've suspected spies for years. Espionage is all part of the game," Jean-Luc said.

"This is different," Quinn said in a dark voice. "And I fear it goes deeper and wider than ever before."

Admiral Quinn shifted in his seat.

"I've never met your Lieutenant Yar prior to this mission, but I know you've spoken highly of her over the years. Your words mean a great deal to me, and her record speaks for itself," Quinn went on.

"You're not saying she's involved?" Jean-Luc asked.

He refused to believe Tasha would have any part in such a conspiracy.

"Not directly," Quinn answered. "To be honest. I don't really know what to think."

Quinn reached down into the leather bag that sat against the table to retrieve a file. He held it out for Jean-Luc to take.

"What's this?" Picard asked.

Quinn motioned with his head for Picard to open it.

Jean-Luc flipped open the file and began to skim the contents.

"These are satellite images," Picard realised.

"From Dalmeade. I had a team monitoring the Romulan installation there," Quinn explained. "You were right to exclude your involvement in that incident from your official log."

"I wanted to test if Starfleet was aware. If we had a leak on the ship or if there was any possibility of a Romulan conspiracy being real," Picard said.

Quinn nodded in understanding.

"I had a covert team monitoring Dalmeade," Quinn informed him.

Jean-Luc looked up from the file and frowned.

"How could you let it get that far?" Picard asked, infuriated. "If you knew they were planning this-"

"We had plans in place to ensure the facility was never made operational. Subtle plans," Quinn said. "Something a bit more delicate – that is until you and Varley decided to play cowboy."

"For the record, my intention was only to survey the area. Gather evidence," Picard argued.

Picard had not ordered any such destruction. Though upon learning of the extent of the Romulan's progress, he felt that his team had made the right choice.

"I dread to think what may have followed had the Romulans managed to get this facility up and running," Picard said.

"That's the question with all of this. What are they planning?" Quinn mused.

Jean-Luc studied the image that featured a map of the facility before flipping to the next page. Across the table, Quinn watched his reaction carefully.

This was the moment that he'd been waiting for.

As he studied the picture, Jean-Luc's blood ran cold.

The individual in the satellite photos was turned, her face partially obscured.

But there was an unmistakable familiarity in the way she stood and carried herself, the curve of her jawline all too recognisable. As he flipped through the pictures recovered from Dalmeade, Jean-Luc grew increasingly concerned.

"This isn't possible," Picard said.

He looked up to Admiral Quinn, wordlessly pleading for an explanation.

"We've already checked the stardates. Confirmed that Lieutenant Yar's whereabouts are accounted for," Quinn explained.

Jean-Luc's mind raced with possibilities.

"We know the Romulans have used subterfuge to impersonate Vulcan officers before," Picard said.

They were genetically so similar that with a little work, it was difficult to distinguish between the two. Romulans had been caught and captured before disguising themselves as Vulcans.

But they'd never attempted to impersonate humans.

"Do you mean their technology is so advanced you think they're passing themselves off as existing officers?" Picard asked in disbelief. "Typically they implant themselves as new officers. It takes years, decades even."

Quinn nodded in agreement.

"In the past, yes," Quinn concurred. "But over the last year there are a number of Starfleet officers that are different. They aren't themselves."

Admiral Quinn had never seen such a thing – not in all his years of service.

"It's like they've been," he paused. "Replaced."

Jean-Luc sat back in his seat as he processed this bombshell revelation.

"Our theory is that it starts with one person. One of the senior officers. Once they get a foothold, it's only a matter of time before the other officers are replaced," Quinn shared. "That's why we've had to go through all the cloak and dagger. Had to be sure you really were you."


Tasha was just throwing the last of her notes into the garment reprocessor. Technically it wasn't supposed to be used to destroy such things. But Tasha knew that she could set it to recycle, and all the paper fibre would be repurposed.

She'd finished transferring her findings to her PADD where they were safely stored in a hidden file.

Tasha was just cleaning up the last of the whiteboards when the door slid open.

She was startled by the noise.

"Sorry, just a bit jumpy," Tasha apologised.

"I suppose it has something to do with all this sneaking around," Data said as he stepped inside.

"Is the night over already?" Tasha asked.

It wasn't even 21:00 hours yet.

"No, the rest of the team are still at Beverly's," Data answered.

"Why did you come back?" Tasha asked.

Data stepped forward. He took hold of her hands and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"You said this was something you needed to do alone," Data began.

Data lifted his face to meet her eyes.

"But you do not need to do things alone. Ever," Data assured her.

Data reached for the ring that hung around her neck.

"We made a promise together," Data went on. "To be together. To share our lives together. That includes the parts that are unpleasant."

Tasha threw her arms around Data.

"I love you," she said.


"How many?" Jean-Luc asked.

Quinn shrugged.

"Twenty-three that we've identified so far," Quinn answered. "But we suspect it's higher. There have been a number of unusual disappearances and deaths. We think those were unsuccessful attempts to infiltrate other teams."

"Surely Starfleet Security-"

"We can't be sure how or where this stops," Quinn said, cutting him off. "Credit goes to Captain Rixx."

"Rixx?" Picard asked.

He'd worked with Rixx in the past on a handful of missions and held the Bolian in high regard.

"He was the first to notice there was a problem," Quinn said.

Admiral Quinn was reluctant to share too much information, but he did offer Picard a general overview of the situation.

"And because so much of its involved changes along the Neutral Zone we're left to conclude it must be the Romulans," Quinn went on. "That's why Rixx was first alerted something was going on. He's been patrolling that area for years."

Quinn sighed.

"He'll be the first to tell you that we shouldn't be scaling down our operation," Quinn said.


"Please do not pull away," Data said, clutching Tasha's hand as she stepped back.

"I'm not," she replied with a wicked grin. "Come."

Tasha pulled him toward the sofa. Data let her push him back onto it before she climbed onto his lap.

"I intend to spend the rest of the evening with you," Tasha explained. "I don't want to think about anything."

Her entire persona shifted as she nuzzled against his nose.

"No Romulans, no Starfleet," Tasha said.

Data made no move to protest when she reached up to cup his face.

"Just you," she said in a low voice.

Data closed his eyes and let himself melt away when her lips made contact.

"And me," Tasha whispered.

There were moments when they didn't need anything else but one another, when they could leave reason at the door.

They shed responsibility, tossing aside as easily as they stripped away their clothes.

Data pulled Tasha close against him as he caressed the length of her spine. Tasha pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, grateful there was nothing between them as she felt his coolant system pump in his chest cavity – just like a human heart.

It was steady, increasingly ever so slightly when she ran her fingers through his hair.

And during moments of unabashed intimacy, it was just like music.


"But how could this go on for so long? How could no one notice?" Picard asked.

"Admiral Savar is widowed. He has no children. No family. He's notoriously private," Quinn said. "Captain Keller travels alone mostly. Limited staff. We feel they were both prime targets."

Jean-Luc could hardly believe it.

"With no one around to notice the little changes in their personalities, their habits," Quinn trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.

"The life of a career officer is often lonely. It's one of the risks they prepare you for at the Academy," Quinn said. "But who knew loneliness could make one a target."

"Then that's why you were worried about me," Picard realised.

Quinn's expression made clear that he didn't mean anything by it.

"You have to understand, Jean-Luc-"

"No, no. I do," Picard assured him. "I'm not insulted. It's just another perhaps bitter reminder that I am… unattached."

"Seeing the way you interact with your team, the loyalty you inspire, well," Quinn said. "It's important to have those connections. To share that with other people."


Tasha collapsed, resting her head against Data's chest. She reached up to clutch his shoulders, wordlessly conveying that she wanted to stay like that.

Data pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head as he wrapped his arms around her body. Her chest was heaving, and he could sense the tell-tale sign that she was about to cry.

"Tasha?" Data prompted in a soft voice.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"You are crying," Data remarked as he felt the droplets of moisture against his bioplast.

Tasha sat back and wiped her eyes. She reached up to cup Data's face, stroking her thumb across the smooth bioplast of his cheek as she studied his expression.

There was a hint of something that flashed in her eyes. Data wasn't sure if it was the blinking lights from a passing satellite in orbit or rather something all her own.

"You're beautiful," Tasha said as she eyed him.

And he was – especially when the soft glow of the ship's lighting hit his bioplast.

"We're only a few days from Føroyar," Tasha said.

Data was familiar with the planet. Most of it was covered in ice. But the area around the equator was similar to the subpolar oceanic climates on Earth.

The main colony was small. Though it relied on tourism as its primary industry, it was considered off-the beaten path. With chilly waters and rugged coastlines, Føroyar could hardly compete with Risa's white sand beaches.

But it was exactly the kind of spot Data and Tasha would enjoy.

There was ice climbing and cold-water diving, hiking trails to the most spectacular geysers, and natural hot spring steam baths to fight off the chill at night – perfectly fit for two.

"We're both sitting on enough accumulated shore leave," Tasha said. "We could take a shuttle. Be there in three days."

"You wish to go on holiday?" Data asked.

He was surprised that Tasha would suggest such a thing at a time like the present – the situation with Remmick and his investigation, their concerns about a broader Romulan conspiracy.

"Tasha, are you sure now is the right time?" Data inquired.

"I don't want to wait," Tasha confessed.

"Wait?" Data asked as he cocked his head to the side.

Tasha averted her eyes and bit her lip.

Data slipped his fingers under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Tasha?" he prompted.

Tasha leaned forward, resting her head against Data's forehead as she slipped her fingers through his own.

"Let's run away to Føroyar. Just for a few days," Tasha said. "You want to get married. I don't want anything big. You want Geordi there to stand up with you – and Føroyar is close enough that he could shuttle there and back."

Data's coolant system was pounding in his chest cavity.

He felt tingly all over – almost like his neural net was trying to process more information than it could handle.

"You wish to get married?" Data asked.

Tasha nodded and giggled.

"Uh huh," she confessed.

They'd had more than a few counselling sessions on the subject. In spite of agreeing to make a commitment to one another, the specifics of how and where such an occasion would occur had been a matter of great debate.

"I know you want something grand and all but-" Tasha began to say.

Data silenced her with a kiss.

When they broke apart, Data was smiling ever so slightly.

"I want you," he replied. "I have always wanted you. That is all that matters."

Tasha was beaming.

"Well then, it's settled," she said. "I'll uh, I'll talk to Captain Picard tomorrow.

She felt like her head was swimming.

"I will speak with Geordi in the morning," Data said.

"Let's not tell anyone else. Not until we get back, alright?" Tasha request.

"Though we should notify Captain Picard, or our timing may seem unusual," Data advised.

"Right," Tasha agreed. "I'll talk to him in the morning."

"We are getting married," Data said.

"Mmm hmm," Tasha replied eagerly.

Data paused, his eyes narrowed.

"You do not mind labelling this as a marriage?" Data asked.

"Marriage. Commitment. I don't care about semantics. What's important is that it's with you," Tasha replied.

"You are certain?" Data pressed.

He had to know.

"Føroyar has twin moons," Tasha said.

She grinned as she kissed the tip of his nose.

"We can fill out the paperwork when we get back," Tasha giggled.


"So what do you need from me?" Picard asked.

"Keep her under supervision. You trust your android will notify you if anything should go awry?" Quinn asked.

"Believe me, Data is far more observant than any of us," Picard assured him.

"I suppose so," Quinn acknowledged.

Picard had nothing but praise for his android Second Officer.

"Keep your senior officers close. Watch for any of the signs we discussed. Most of these replacements have turned up after travel – conferences, shore leave, transfers," Quinn warned. "And trust no one."

"I thought you said that you'd cleared Walker Keel, Captain Rixx, Captain-"

"No one. Not a soul, Jean-Luc," Quinn urged.