Captain's log, stardate 42506.5. We have departed from Starbase one seven nine and are headed for a rendezvous with the Klingon vessel, Pagh. I have informed the staff of Lieutenant Commander Yar's temporary assignment.
"Klingon food? Won't you get plenty of this once you're on board?" Soriana looked with heavy skepticism at the dishes on the Ten Forward table.
Tasha chewed and swallowed her mouthful of targ heart before answering. "Beverly insisted. She wanted to make sure the digestive implant is working before I depend on it for several weeks."
"Is it?" The Hallian took a seat, signalling to the bar to bring her a drink.
"I think so." She tore into a handful of worms. "This feeling in my stomach is the same sinking sensation I always get before a transfer. Nothing to do with the food."
Soriana could sense the other woman's apprehension. "Concerns about the assignment?"
"That's… probably in there somewhere," Yar admitted. "I don't know how the captain talked me into this. I imagine the worst sort of atavistic male behavior I've dealt with as a Starfleet security officer - only multiplied, because Klingon culture encourages it. I have a look, you know," she paused to gulp down a foul-smelling purple drink, "a stare that says 'you should be ashamed of your behavior.' Sobers a drunken disorderly up fast. But these guys won't be ashamed."
"Is it the Klingon first officer's job to keep her crew in line?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. They don't have written regulations; can you even imagine?" She sighed, letting out a thick burp. "Most of the material out there is about upward mobility: challenging or killing your immediate superior to take his place. It's a wonder their fleet doesn't collapse from infighting."
"They often do," Soriana reminded her. "A civil war tears up the fleet once every twenty years or so. If they didn't have practically the whole species volunteering for the Force and most of their economy devoted to ship manufacture, there's no way it would be sustainable."
"A mess," the human shook her head. "I better have my affairs in order by tomorrow."
Soriana nodded. "I'm sure he'll appreciate with the visit."
Tasha didn't agree, but she didn't protest either.
*****
Of the several tasks that Data was currently pursuing, the main one was reconstructing an old Earth sailing ship. While records of the later naval vessels were excellent, the designs of many early craft, including several of those that has supported colonial endeavors in the 16th Century, had been lost to time. Still, by cross referencing written descriptions and cataloged debris, Data could generate a very accurate projection of ship design with only modest interpretation. The goal was simple: show how much he appreciated Geordi's work on the new Sherlock Holmes mysteries (he was now 8 and 2 on successful first-time solutions) by supporting his own hobby of model shipbuilding. Data's friend would get to be the first person to ever build a model of one of these forgotten vessels.
"Come in, please," he answered when the chime rang, and he felt his conscious reasoning pathways shift when Tasha Yar entered. He immediately froze and saved the reconstruction subroutines, putting down the pad in one hand and standing from his desk. He knew, from many past interactions with her, that she would feel neglected if he continued his previous activity while she was present.
"Hi Data, I didn't mean to bother you," Tasha said, and Data evaluated the statement for its likely meaning. She wanted his time and attention; believing that she was interrupting a matter of importance would cause her distress. Fortunately, she would not regard his primary activity in those terms, so he had no need to deceive her this time.
"It is no bother. I was working on my model ship project, and you are a welcome diversion."
She smiled, and Data recorded the wording for future repetition with variation. "Oh, the new plans you're going to surprise him with? Can I see?" She slipped around his desk, placing a hand on his shoulder as she looked at the console.
Data brought up the plans on the display, and moved his own hand up to interlace hers, careful to exert no pressure. If she didn't pull her hand away, there was a 92% chance based on past encounters that she desired physical intimacy. She squeezed his hand and left hers in place.
Data started YarAttention2() and YarComfort2(). He put YarSeduction7() on standby.
"These are beautiful, Data," she breathed. "Imagine the incredible care to build all of this by hand. Men took years, didn't they?"
"Many men, and as much as a decade," Data agreed, but as he started to elaborate on the techniques, a YarAttention() flag instructed him to redirect. "You are leaving for the Pagh tomorrow. Is there anything more I can do to help you prepare for the assignment?"
Tasha shook her head. "I know all the Klingon I'm going to remember, and I trounced Worf in a sparring match today already. He gave me an emergency transponder; I'm a bit worried that he thinks I'll need it."
Data stood up, keeping her hand in his and gently guiding her to a couch. "He consulted with Geordi and me on the design. It may help you to know that Worf's main concern is that you may end up captain of the Pagh and we would lose you as an officer."
She laughed as she laid her head on his shoulder. "I think that was meant as a joke, Data."
Data accessed the audio of Worf's comment, running it and the expressions of the listeners through HumorRecognition8749(). It returned a 74% likelihood of a facetious or exaggerated remark. "I believe you're right." Since the comment hadn't been flagged initially, he opened a new copy as HumorRecognition8750() and passively considered the new parameters.
"Data," she finally said, turning her face up to his. "I'm going to miss you."
"And I, you," he said softly. He leaned forward to kiss her.
Other custom routines, whose names were random strings of characters to avoid Tasha's potential embarrassment, were invoked well into the night. And when she fell asleep, Data adjusted the environmental controls to her preferred settings. He would awaken her with the aroma of coffee at her preferred time.
As Data resumed his ship reconstruction, he took note of a very high fitness score in several of his pathways - what he described to others as his "wants" - towards acquiring an emotional response when he spent time with Tasha.
Data wanted to feel happiness when he looked at her, and satisfaction when he made her feel happy. But in the meantime, what Tasha felt would have to be sufficient for him.
*****
Natasha Yar knew how to stand in such a way that she appeared taller than her very modest 172 cm height. But compared to the Klingon officers, there was no point; they were far taller and thicker than even a sizable human male, much less her. She instead focused on maintaining the stoic demeanor that had worked to intimidate humans and aliens alike on many worlds.
"Lieutenant Commander Natasha Yar, reporting for duty, sir," she announced as she entered the bridge.
The man who stalked towards her was massive, and easily ten years older than anyone else on the bridge. "I am Kargan, captain of the Pagh. this is Commander Klag, first officer of the Pagh." He stood directly in front of her, leaning into her face. "Who are you?"
"Lieutenant Commander Natasha Yar of the Pagh," she said, understanding his meaning.
"And can I count on you to serve as the second officer aboard this ship, and take orders from Commander Klag?" the captain growled.
"My orders," Yar growled back, "were to serve as first officer of this vessel, sir. I hope there has not been a misunderstanding."
"This is a Klingon vessel," the captain spat. "Such a position is not given; it is earned." He met her eyes slyly. "Do you get my meaning?"
"Take your station, human," Commander Klag ordered, approaching as Kargan moved to stand in front of his captain's chair.
Yar didn't move. She stood her ground, fiercely staring at the taller Klingon officer.
"I said, take your sta-" Klag swung an arm across Yar as he repeated his order, and she responded by ducking under and grabbing it as it passed. She followed with three lightning-fast kicks to the man's stomach; as he briefly reeled, she shifted her stance to get enough leverage to punch him, two-handed, to fly backward and land hard on the ground.
"I am the first officer aboard this ship," she announced proudly, as Kargan grinned. "I will follow your orders, captain, and Klag will take orders from me."
"Commander?" Kargan asked.
The man picked himself up off the ground, frowning at Yar. "I'll take orders from her."
"Very good. Then there is just one more matter." He called Yar to his side this time, although his voice was still loud enough for all to hear. "Although our mission is peaceful, we are prepared to do battle at any moment. I can count on every one of these officers to give their lives for this ship. Except you, Lieutenant Commander."
Tasha replied in practiced Klingon. "I am Natasha Yar, orphan of no house. I will fight and die for my ship, for my captain, and for the Empire."
The captain nodded. "A good oath. We're heading to the Pheben system to practice maneuvers. Go to engineering and ask why we are limping along at Warp 4 like a cowardly grandfather."
*****
"Ensign Mendon," Worf asked, softly enough that nearby personnel could not overhear. "Logs show that you focused a secondary sensor sweep on a particular area of the Pagh earlier. Can you explain why?"
"The analysis is still underway, sir," Mendon explained. "I apologize that I have been unable to complete it as yet, but I am making significant progress."
"Analysis of what, Ensign?" Worf tried very hard to keep his voice level.
Only half-turning, and not stopping his commands at the science station, the ensign answered, "The hulls of both the Enterprise and the Pagh appear to have contracted a new microbe of some kind. It is quickly devouring the material of the hull, and I have already tried and eliminated fourteen different methods of neutralizing them."
"This microbe is a danger to the ship?"
"Yes, sir," Mendon agreed.
"Why had you not already reported this?" Worf asked, bewildered.
"Already?" Mendon finally turned fully away from his screen to face his supervisor. "I'm sorry if I was unclear, sir. I haven't yet finished determining the exact nature of the microbe, or how to halt the damage. I am working as fast I can, I assure you."
"I understand that, but you should have reported the danger immediately," Worf pointed out.
Now the Benzite looked confused. "Why would you want me to submit an incomplete report, sir? I assure you, I am competent to run the analysis."
"It's. A danger. To the ship." Worf tried to keep his rage in between his teeth, but at the last, it poured out of him like blood from a wound.
"Mister Worf, is there a problem?" Captain Picard asked from his seat on the level below.
"Sensors indicate an unknown microbe damaging the hull, sir," Worf stepped back to his station, putting the damaged section on the viewscreen. "Ensign Mendon reports the Pagh to be affected as well."
Data stepped to Mendon's station, bringing up a second display and cloning the sensor logs. "Sir, if left unchecked, this entity could potentially devour the entire outer hull."
"Well, then, you and Mister Mendon find that check. Do we know where the Pagh was headed?"
"Maneuvers in the Pheben system," Worf answered.
"Set a course, then. We need to let them know what we have discovered right away."
"I wouldn't recommend that, sir," Worf replied. "The Pheben system is well inside Klingon space, and we have not been given permission to head deeper into the Empire. Any ships in the sector - including the Pagh - might very well fire on the Enterprise before giving us a chance to explain ourselves."
Picard cursed. "What do we do, then? We can't just let them get eaten alive."
"Contact Klingon command," Soriana recommended. "They can let their ships in the sector know why we're there, and pass along the danger so the Pagh is aware of it."
"Make it so."
*****
"Why are the sea worms still moving?" Yar asked as the woman - Vecma was her name - slid the bowl toward her.
"Don't tell me you ate replicated gagh!" the Klingon replied, making a face. "They start rotting the moment they die, so to really enjoy the flavor, we serve and eat them live. Go ahead, I guarantee, you'll taste the difference."
The human took a handful, and fought not to recoil at the lethargic movements as she bit down on them. "These are much tastier," she said… and it was actually true. Yesterday, the replicator hadn't done any of the Klingon dishes justice; they were bland and had tasted primarily of meat and blood. But from the Klingon kitchen - and they actually did have a kitchen here, with fresh and frozen foods prepared by live hands - there were many different spices, with even the same basic dish (like the blood pie) coming in multiple varieties. Klingons ate a lot, and while she couldn't keep up with their quantities, she actually was enjoying following their lead and trying a bit of everything.
"My compliments to the chef," she said, sincerely. The comment put big smiles of the faces of the two women sitting at the table with her. "Did I say something amusing?"
"It wouldn't be the first time that the first officer has picked the cook," the other women, Prabsa, pointed out. "There's an old Klingon saying about a male who can butcher a targ and recite poetry never lacking a mate."
"Picked the cook for what?" Tasha asked, rather concerned about the obvious answer.
"For tonight," Vecma grinned again. "Captain Kargan and Chief Lorgh are bonded, but we already decided you get first pick of the others." She daintily bit into a kidney. "I thought you'd have Klag after the way you flirted with him on the bridge, but you haven't looked at him once since we sat down."
"I'm surprised to hear that sort of thing is permitted in the Force," Tasha shared, reeling from the implications.
"Permitted?" Pabsa echoed. "It's the best thing about serving on a cruiser. Getting your pick of the best available men. Look at how strong they are," she leered as two officers butted heads, cheers erupting around them. "Choose quickly, because I want Tragar if you don't."
"I'm… not… planning on sharing my bed," the human said softly, gauging the women's reactions. They seemed more confused than anything.
"Are you bonded, then?" Vecma asked. "The Force doesn't allow bonded women on ship duty, but I know Starfleet is different."
Tasha thought about Data. It probably didn't count in the way Vecma meant; they certainly hadn't agreed they were serious or exclusive. But it avoided so many problems. "Yes, I'm bonded to a male aboard the Enterprise."
Vecma nodded. "I'll tell the men the bad news. As ugly as you are, many of them were looking forward to the novelty."
*****
"We don't have any way to make a tunneling neutrino beam, and they know it," the chief engineer snarled. "They put this thing on our hull - close to our advanced weapons systems - and now they offer to swarm our ship like vermin to fix it. Taking numerous scans in the process, no doubt."
"You are most likely correct," Captain Kargan intoned. "But our orders came from Command and they are clear. We will meet with the Enterprise and cooperate with them to eliminate the threat." He leaned over Tasha again. "But if this is a Starfleet ploy, I will kill you myself."
"It's not," Tasha replied calmly. "If Starfleet wanted ship-mounted disruptors, they could already make better ones than ours."
Several heads on the bridge turned in surprise, but it was the captain who laughed first. The rest of the crew followed suit. "You're right, Yar, daughter of no house. These disruptors are poorly designed. Lorgh? Tell her."
"They overheat quickly, and we have to re-align them after every battle," he shared. "Here, come see."
"What sort of emitter coils are you using?" She asked, as she and Lorgh walked to engineering.
*****
Tasha's phaser took down the Cardassian that had been entering codes into the engineering panel. She couldn't read Cardassian hardly at all, but it looked like she had interrupted the man before he could finish whatever sabotage he was attempting. With the boarding parties in control of the bridge and engineering, it was only a time before the rest of the crew was rounded up.
And rounded up they would be, on the personal oaths of the warriors whom she had taken on this mission. Every Cardassian would be allowed an opportunity to drop his weapons and surrender, and any that did would be set down on the closest habitable planet to await retrieval.
Neither Kargan nor her men (after two and a half weeks, they were increasingly her men) understood the human's strange sense of honor, but they followed it because they were winning. The Cardassians were officially at war with the Federation, not the Klingons - they had little experience with cloaked opponents. A decent strategist could surprise lone patrol vessels within enemy space quite handily.
This warship's emitters alone would allow for three more retrofitted birds of prey, bringing their total to eleven. And every one of these weapons systems was more reliable and easier to maintain than the shoddily-built disrupters based on an out-of-date Hur'Q design. Engineers and captains alike were ecstatic.
"Jagh!" Karg's voice yelled as he pushed her out of the way of a nasty disrupter bolt; one of the Cardassian engineers had only pretended to be dead. Her second officer sank a dagger into the attacker's throat.
"Honorless petaQ," she muttered, but she gave it no more thought than that. They had a lot of work to do.
*****
Captain's log, stardate 42566.5. After almost two months, our loan of Lieutenant Commander Yar to the Pagh is at an end. We have received a request from our liason in the Klingon Defense Force that we travel to the Osaar system near the edge of their territory to retrieve my first officer.
"It will be nice to have her back," Soriana said.
"Yes, indeed," Data agreed. "My neural pathways have become very accustomed to her sensory input patterns."
"We all have missed her, certainly," Picard agreed. "But an assignment of this length can strongly affect people, and I am sure this one was particularly stressful. Let's make sure we ease her back into it."
Worf reported, "Sir, we are being hailed and asked for identification. The ship identifies itself as the quv'Huj."
Soriana racked her brain for the meaning. "Something like… 'strange honor'?"
"Sensor readings?" Picard asked.
"None yet," Data reported. "They are likely cloaked."
"Answer them. We're here by invitation."
"Multiple ships decloaking," Worf announced with alarm. "Twenty… no, twenty-five. All Klingon. The lead ship is the quv'Huj; it's hailing us again."
"On screen."
The terrifying vista of more than two dozen heavily-armed ships of war was replaced by a terrifying scene of a different kind: a small blonde human dressed head to toe in the armor of a Klingon warrior. "Enterprise, this is Captain Yar of the Imperial vessel quv'Huj. Are my orders to return to my Starfleet rank and position?"
There was a surprised pause before Picard recovered enough to answer. "They are, lieutenant commander." He emphasized the rank.
"In that case, captain, I invite you aboard to accept my transfer. And bring your current first officer." Her eyes strayed to the Data for just a second.
Picard mute the channel. "Soriana, anything?"
The counselor looked up from her crystal. "She's herself, sir. Her mind is alert and wary, like she's navigating a minefield. Perhaps she is."
"Well, then, let's give her a hand." Nodding to reopen the channel, the captain agreed. "Lieutenant Commander Data and I will be right there."
*****
As Picard stepped onto the Klingon bridge, he barely dodged the leather-clad hand that reached out… past him, and grabbed the arm of his science officer.
"Play along, Data," she whispered before pulling him in for a very long, very enthusiastic kiss. Which Data returned with equal apparent enthusiasm.
Picard didn't quite see her final lunge, but he soon saw the result… Yar pushed Data away to reveal the half-moon of a deep bite mark in the android's pale skin, with several punctures along its surface leaking drops of viscous fluid. "Does that answer your question?" she said to the female Klingon who stood closest to her.
"It does," the woman said, looking the android up and down before dismissing him from her attention. Instead, the woman drew a short blade, and yelled something in Klingon.
Yar yelled something back, also in Klingon, and reached out to grasp the blade. Her red blood gleamed along its length, and Yar opened her hand to show the cut. And with a nod, Tasha led the two Starfleet officers off the bridge. "Now, sir," she muttered as they entered the hallway.
Her captain nodded. "Three to beam up."
*****
"Twenty-five ships?" Picard suppressed a scowl as he and Tasha sat in his ready room.
"It would have been far more if not for quv'Huj. I'm not sure who first coined the term, but it stuck," she explained. "If you wanted to fight the Cardassians you had to follow 'Yar's strange honor.' Basically the Federation articles of war," she explained. "No targeting civilians, no pretending to surrender, take and return prisoners. Standard stuff."
"And they went along with it?"
"Once they were convinced that the Cardassians wouldn't do the same to them, yes." She shook her head. "That was the hardest part: making them understand that their enemies didn't want to be killed in battle, that they'd rather be captured. I'm not sure most of them ever really got it, but I kept them in line."
"How many of your own men did you end up having to kill, to 'keep them in line'?" Picard asked bluntly.
"Nine," she answered just as honestly. "Although two of those were sexual rather than command issues."
Picard frowned. "You couldn't have let them down more easily?"
Yar matched his frown. "Sir, as far as the Klingons were concerned, I was married to Data." She cut off the captain before he could question that. "There's a really blurry line between adultery and rape under those circumstances, but only because either way the consequence for the offender is a quick and dishonorable death. I stand by my actions."
The captain sighed longsufferingly. "And the ceremony we witnessed?"
"A simple blood oath," she explained, "to the crew of the quv'Huj, to lead them again when my service to Starfleet ends."
That earned her a wince. "Do you intend to follow through on that?"
"I don't expect that I will have to, sir - there are no old Klingon warriors."
That was a truth that Picard couldn't argue with.