To The Journey

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. This is an AU story.

Chapter Thirty-One: The Recipient

Data stared at the spacedock as the ship was guided in. The next time I leave spacedock, he thought, I will be a married man.

The idea exhilarated him. He loved his wife-to-be and he loved the idea of marriage, of a permanent bond between them. Aside from the practical advantages of being able to request joint postings or make decisions for each other in a worst-case scenario, the symbolic bond of marriage had been fascinating to him even before he had emotions. He remembered a discussion he had had with Deanna just before the O'Briens' wedding about the significance of marriage. Now he understood.

He glanced at Tasha, and she caught his eye and smiled. He knew she was thinking the same thing.

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"Data, I've been thinking."

"Uh-oh," he teased.

Tasha gently whacked him on the head. "I was thinking I'd like to expand our wedding party. As Worf's wife, Jadzia is an honorary member of this little family. And Julian and I formed a real bond during our time in the camp. He's become like a younger brother to me."

Data smiled. "I am incapable of saying no to you. Shall we call Deep Space Nine now?"

She leaned over and kissed him before keying up the comm system.

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Julia Paris hugged Tasha tightly. "I can't tell you how happy I am to be a part of this."

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather have stand in for my mother," she replied honestly.

"She'd be proud of you."

Tasha sniffed a little, and Julia held her close. "I know, honey. I know you miss her." She let go of her. "Come on. I want to show you something."

She led Tasha up into the house's attic and pulled a sealed box from the shelf. "I've hung onto this for years. I'm just glad it's good for something besides a treasure."

She unsealed the lid, and Tasha caught a flash of silver as Julia lifted the object out. "What -"

But she cut herself off. The object was a dress. The bodice was pale pink, with silver run through it. The short, puffed sleeves and the skirt - slim but with a train that had to be at least two feet long - were white. Tasha's breath caught in her throat. "Is that -"

"Your mother's wedding gown. She wouldn't settle for replicated; she insisted on finding someone who would sew one for her, and it was one of her most treasured possessions. Your father's apartment was small, so when Eva took it off to get on the transport she asked me to keep it for her. I think she planned to send for it and never got around to it; knowing her it doesn't surprise me. But I know if she could see you she'd want to see you in it. Go on, try it."

Tasha slid out of her uniform and into the dress. It fit her body surprisingly well. She turned slowly, letting Julia see how it fit her. She heard a sharp breath and looked over to see the older woman with tears running down her face.

"Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm fine." She forcefully wiped her face. "It's just - you look so much like your mother."

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The red alert sirens blared around them. All the members of the engineering team exchanged looks, many of them concerned. The Prometheus was a prototype of a brand-new class of ship, and this was supposed to be the field test. They had had a few red alert drills, but the ship was lurching now, and they were all hoping it wasn't some sort of major systems failure.

It was the Chief Engineer who got to his feet first. "Engineering to Bridge. What's going on?"

"Two Romulan ships just decloaked," came back a slightly panicked voice. "Took us completely by surprise. See what you can do about the shields and weapons; they're not functioning as well as they should."

"Damn it!" he swore, slamming his fist down on the nearest console before turning to the woman standing behind him. "Lieutenant? We've got a problem with the defensive systems."

"I will attempt to locate the problem." Lieutenant JG Asil was the only person on the ship who wasn't a member of the intended crew for the official launch. As a member of the design team, she had been assigned to the vessel to help with and take note of any technical problems the rather hastily designed ship might encounter. But they hadn't expected to see any action so far from Dominion space, and any glitches in the defensive systems could take more time to fix than they had in an emergency situation.

"Engineering to Bridge! Can you tell me specifically what the problem is?"

"It's taking us about a second too long to get a targeting lock, and the shields have a minimal fluctuation that could become a major problem under continuous fire."

"Acknowledged."

"Lieutenant, see what you can do about the targeting scanners," he shouted over the still-blaring red alert sirens. "I'll look into the problem with the shields."

"Yes, sir."

The ship rocked again, and then a recorded voice came over the system. "Intruder alert, deck fifteen. Intruder alert, deck fifteen."

An Ensign near the weapons locker hurried to it and pulled it open, handing and throwing the phasers to the rest of the team, racing to arm everyone before the Romulans reached Engineering. Asil took hold of a phaser and thumbed the setting up to kill. No one in Starfleet liked the idea of killing, but they also knew that their enemies would have no such qualms and that if they could not bring themselves to do the same they would lose everything.

She ducked beneath a console, holding the weapon at the ready. She could see that the rest of the team was doing the same. The Chief Engineer locked down the door before joining them.

"All right," he said softly, but loud enough to be heard by the everyone on the team. "Now listen up. When the Romulans come in - and we have to assume they will - we have to fight with everything we've got. Shoot to kill, that's an order. There won't be -"

But what there wouldn't be he would never say. There were several loud bangs from the door, and then it was forced open an inch. The entire Engineering team seemed to collectively hold their breath.

Hands slid between the doors and they were pried open. It was impossible to say who fired first, but all at once, all of engineering was caught up in a firefight. The Engineering team did their best to hold their own, but there were a total of ten of them and the Romulans seemed to just keep coming.

The ship lurched again and Asil was sent flying across the room, her weapon knocked from her grasp. She managed to roll out of it, ending up crouched under a station against the wall.

Huddling into the wall, she took stock of the situation. The firefight was decreasing in intensity, but a look showed that this wasn't a good thing for her at all. Most of the engineering team was down; she had to presume they were dead. A few shots were being fired by the remainder of the crew, but they were heavily outnumbered. The Chief Engineer was firing almost wildly from behind a console, but he was pinned down and didn't have long. Asil had no way to reach her own weapon without being seen, and to try even that, let alone to engage the Romulans, would be to get herself killed as well. There was no room for sentimentality in this situation. In order to have any chance of retaking the ship, she had to survive.

Her mind hurriedly ran over the schematics of the ship until she was able to find what she was looking for - an access crawl-way only a few meters from her position. Never taking her eyes off of the Romulans, she slid carefully along the wall until she felt the hatch under her back. Under cover of the sounds of weapons fire still ringing out, she pulled the hatch open and crawled inside, pulling it shut behind her and locking it.

She crawled hurriedly along it until she got to a junction she judged was far enough from her point of entry and deep enough inside the network to keep her from being picked up in a cursory sweep. Then she set about the problem of keeping herself from being detected.

It would be too much to hope they wouldn't scan the ship to make sure no one was left alive. Getting rid of her combadge wouldn't be enough to fool the sensors, and erasing her lifesign from the computer could be detected. Her mind quickly came to another solution. Pulling a pin from her hair, she began to tweak her combadge.

For all the differences in behavior, Romulans and Vulcans were only a dozen or so generations separated and were more alike than unlike when it came to genetics. It was delicate work, but she knew she could reconfigure her combadge to distort her bio-signature. Not enough to hide her completely, but enough to make the computer read her as Romulan.

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"So how did you want to set this up?" Julia asked her.

"Well." Tasha crossed the yard. "I was thinking we could set up a sort of archway about here, under these trees." She indicated two cherry trees with large pink blossoms. "Facing it this way, we can set up the chairs over here with an aisle down the middle."

"What are you doing with the bridesmaid's dresses?" Julia asked.

She pursed her lips for a long moment, thinking it over. "The cherry blossoms are that pretty shade of dark pink, and there's pink in my mother's dress. A bright shade of pink is out because one of my bridesmaids is a redhead, but what about a sort of burgundy-pink?"

"It's your decision," she said, smiling, "but for what it's worth, I think it would work wonderfully." She started back towards the now-empty house and Tasha followed. "When does your wedding party get here?"

"Beverly, Deanna, Geordi, Will, and Joey are on Earth now, and so is the Captain. Jim should be here tomorrow, and the Deep Space Nine group - that's everyone else but my Maid of Honor - is coming in the day after. Asil's on a brief mission, expected back the day before the rehearsal dinner. With your permission, I wanted to use the house for the wedding party and their immediate families - including you, the Admiral, and Kathleen and Moira's families, of course." A small smile danced on her lips. "I'm afraid that does mean putting up with Deanna's mother."

Julia sighed theatrically, but she laughed. "We'll manage. When is she expected?"

"Also tomorrow, I think. And Data's mother and her husband are getting in tonight, and Kate Pulaski will be commuting back and forth until the night before the wedding. The guests are coming in all over the calender, but they can deal with that themselves, they're staying in hotels."

"I hate to put a damper on things, but do you have a caterer set up?"

"You really think I'd forget something like that? Not only a caterer, the best caterer I could hope for."

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I fully intend for this to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Besides," she grinned, "the more I get done, the less I have left for Lwaxana to try and handle for me."

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Jenna was running across the landing bay before the hatch on the ship was fully open, throwing herself into Julian Bashir the second he came into view. The tall man seemed momentarily stunned at the blonde whirlwind that crashed into him, realized who it was, and lifted her clear off her feet to kiss her firmly on the mouth. Tasha was vaguely aware of Admiral Paris behind her glaring at this public display of affection, but that was driven from her mind at the sight of the rest of the crowd.

She embraced Ben Sisko warmly. "I was worried you wouldn't be able to come."

"The wormhole aliens aren't letting Dominion ships through the wormhole, so DS9 is relatively quiet right now. If anything does happen short of a large-scale disaster, Major Kira can handle it."

"That I don't doubt." Tasha liked the Bajoran woman, and few would deny that she was a good person to have at your side in the heart of a major conflict.

"Come here, there's someone I want you to meet. Tasha Yar, Kassidy Yates. Kassidy, this is the bride."

The woman looked a little hesitant, but Tasha shook her hand warmly. She figured Kassidy was aware that she had once been in a relationship with Ben, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that the two of them were very much in love. "It's good to meet you."

"Hello."

Tasha looked down towards the source of the voice, which was coming from around her midsection. A small, dark-haired girl stood next to her. "Well, hello there. Are you Molly?"

The child's face split into a grin. "How do you know?"

Tasha lifted the little girl into her arms. "I knew you when you were just a little baby."

"I'm not a baby anymore."

"I know. I wouldn't have asked a baby to be the flower girl in my wedding."

The smile widened so much Tasha thought it might split her face in half. "Are you the one who's getting married?"

"You bet."

"Excuse me, Captain." Miles O'Brien had appeared on the platform pretty much out of nowhere. "Have you seen..."

"Right here, Chief." Tasha handed Molly over to her father. "I assume this is what you lost?"

"Thanks. Molly, we don't know this place. Stay close to Mommy or me until we tell you you can run around."

"Okay, Daddy."

Tasha was nearly bowled over at that point by Jadzia. Worf stood nearby, looking vaguely exasperated with but resigned to his wife's displays. Tasha managed to get herself untangled and nodded a greeting to Worf, resisting the urge to embrace her Klingon friend.

Julian stepped forward to embrace her too, tailed closely by Jenna. "I just want you to know," he said softly, "it means a lot to me, you asking me to be part of this."

"You're part of this family," she told him, never letting up her embrace. She became uncomfortably aware of Admiral Paris' eyes boring into her back.

So it wasn't about the kiss. It was about Julian.

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"Tasha, can I have a word?"

She turned to the Admiral. "Of course. What's this about?"

"Doctor Bashir. How much do you know about him?"

"What?" she asked, momentarily taken aback.

"All I'm saying is that you may not know him as well as you think you do."

"Sir, with all due respect, what are you getting at?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this, it's not official knowledge, so don't tell anyone I told you, but I really think you have a right to know. He's not - he's unnatural. Genetically engineered."

He saw her jaw drop. "How do you know?"

"There was a doctor, Dr. Zimmerman, who did a little background research and uncovered it. Bashir's father agreed to take the fall so his son could avoid being kicked out of Starfleet, but most of the Admiralty knows. We were the ones who offered his father the bargain."

"How kind of you," she said icily.

He studied her keenly for a moment. "You knew, didn't you?"

She nodded, not seeing any point in denying it. "In my mind, it doesn't matter. Look, if anyone has problems, in my opinion it's Dr. Zimmerman. What right does he have to dig up dirt on Bashir and forward it to the Admiralty?"

"Tasha, genetic engineering -"

"If there had been any problems, they would have showed themselves before now. Zimmerman wouldn't have had to dig into his history to find out. And for my sake if nothing else, please don't mention a word of this to Julian."

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Asil crawled along the Jeffries tube, headed towards Sickbay. She had found and vaporized the body of one dead Romulan, just in case they tried to take count of their own crew. It would not be logical to allow her plan to fall victim to such a simple error.

She couldn't check the computer to see how many crew were on board lest she chance being discovered. It was possible the Romulans had not killed the medical staff, and it was also possible and even likely that injured crew would have made their way to Sickbay. She had to set it up as a sort of command center.

Pulling her phaser from her belt, she pushed the hatch open slightly. There were definitely voices, but a quick evaluation suggested they were human. And what they were saying hardly sounded like combat talk.

"I'm afraid you don't have that luxury," one was saying, a voice that she believed she might have heard somewhere once but didn't immediately recognize. "There are two ships at stake here, yours and mine! Now, I need to know more about what's happening. Is the Federation at war with the Romulans?"

"No," replied the other, and Asil recognized the voice as the ship's emergency medical hologram. That meant the doctor was most likely dead, but it also meant someone was there to activate it. "The Romulans haven't gotten involved in our fight with the Dominion."

"The who?"

Surprising, Asil thought, it would be difficult not to know about the Dominion in this time.

The EMH, for his part, seemed to be trying to figure out how to explain over a year's worth of conflict in a few seconds, then gave up. "Long story."

"In any case we need to take control of this situation."

"I'm a doctor, not a commando!" the EMH protested.

"It's time you became a little of both," the other replied, unfazed.

If they were talking this freely, chances were there were no Romulans present. As silently as she could, she opened the hatch and stood up.

And found herself face-to-face with a balding man who was staring at her. "Who are you?"

The EMH turned to face her, then spun back to face his companion accusingly. "You said there were no Starfleet crew left alive!"

"There weren't. At least the computer said there weren't."

"I re-wired my combadge to emit a distortion field so the computer would read my lifesign as Romulan. Your experience seems to suggest that it worked."

"How can I know that you're not Romulan?"

"I told you," the EMH said exasperatedly. "I can identify each member of this crew." He examined her for a moment. "Lieutenant Asil, Starfleet Engineering Corps, a member of the senior design team of the Prometheus, assigned to this test run to observe and assist with any design or technical problems."

Asil, meanwhile, had finally figured out who he was. "You are an EMH Mark 1," she stated. "You are not a part of this ship's system. State your purpose aboard this ship."

The Mark 1 gave an exaggerated, and very human, sigh. "As I was just explaining, I was sent here through an alien sensor network from a ship in the Delta Quadrant."

"There are no Starfleet ships in the Delta Quadrant."

He rolled his eyes, another very human trait that Asil had to wonder why the designer would have included. "We didn't end up there on purpose. We were transported to the Delta Quadrant by an alien entity four years ago. I was sent to make contact with the Federation and inform them of this fact, but of course I managed to end up on a ship that had been taken over by Romulans!"

By this point, Asil's tricorder was in her hand and she was scanning the holographic man. If he wasn't what he said he was, whoever had programmed him had done such a perfect job as to make it indistinguishable. It was illogical to assume that some alien race, or even the Romulans, could have made such a precise imitation. That left only one option; however improbable the story, it was the truth.

"We will need to regain control of the ship," she informed them without preamble.

"That's what I said," the Mark 1 broke in.

She turned to face him. "What did you have in mind?"

He frowned. "I'm afraid my plan won't work anymore."

"Explain it in any case. Perhaps I can modify it."

"Well, I had thought that we could use some sort of anesthetic gas, put it into the ventilation system. But if we do that now, we'll lose a third of our crew."

"Not necessarily." She turned to the Mark 2 EMH. "Do you have portable oxygen in stock?"

"Of course."

"I will take an oxygen tank and a mask." She stepped over to the computer console. "It appears that the only point of access for environmental controls is the operations console on the bridge. We will need to find a way to unlock it remotely."

"Maybe not."

Asil turned back to the Mark 1. "Explain."

"When he was brought in," the balding hologram indicated an unconscious Romulan on the bio-bed, "I pretended I was this ship's EMH. I could try to go to the bridge on a medical pretense and try to unlock the ventilation system."

She nodded. "Good. Mark 2, you will need to go to environmental control. When Mark 1 releases the lockout, you will need to release the anesthetic into the ventilation system. I will go to the transporter room and beam all life-forms other than my own into the brig. When that is done, I will call Mark 2 who will purge the ventilation system. I will transfer Mark 2 to the bridge and then transport myself there as well. Understood?"

"Understood, Lieutenant," they both said at once.

Accepting the oxygen apparatus from Mark 2, she crawled into the Jeffries Tube and made for the nearest transporter room. She sat behind the panel and waited.

And waited.

Had they failed? Had one or both of the holograms been captured? She dared not contact them lest she expose herself if they had been.

Then she heard it - the hiss of the gas in the ventilation system. The mask which had been hanging around her neck was instantly moved up to her mouth and nose, strapped into place. She crawled through the hatch, removing her combadge and setting it aside. She pushed aside the Romulan slumped over the console and set it for Romulan lifesigns. The three Romulans in the transporter room all shimmered and disappeared.

"Computer." Her voice was distorted by the mask. "How many Romulans are present on the ship outside the brig?"

"No Romulans present in specified locations."

"Asil to Mark 2. It worked. Begin purge."

"Acknowledged." There was a hint of a smirk in his voice. "Beginning purge now." After a few moments, his voice came through the system again. "Purge complete."

"I am transferring you to the bridge. Stand by." Accessing the holo-emitters, she sent both doctors to the bridge before removing her mask and leaving it on the floor, programming the transporter on delay and jumping onto the pad.

"The end!" was the first thing she heard when she materialized on the bridge. "You know, you really ought to keep a personal log. Why bore others needlessly?"

"Enough arguing," she said before Mark 2 could reply to the insult. "We need to stop this ship and return it to the Federation." She bent over the navigational console. She was an adequate pilot at best, and only a few people had been trained to fly this ship. Again, she called to mind the schematics. She had had little part in designing the helm systems, but she had seen the plans and she drew on them now to remember how the control panel worked. Then, the image of the schematics still in her mind, she disengaged the warp engines.

"We will need to repair the ship as quickly as possible. You two, remain with me. I may need your assistance."

"I'm a doctor," Mark 2 protested, "not an engineer."

"I will explain exactly what I need you to do, I will merely need you to perform actions." She made a mental note to discuss with the designer the possibility of including basic subroutines into future EMH programs that would allow them to assist with basic ship's functions in the event of the ship being understaffed. "We will begin -"

A beeping sound interrupted her. Mark 1 reached the beeping console first, and an expression of dismay crossed his face. "Oh no."

"What?" Mark 2 was only a step behind him.

"Unless I'm very much mistaken, and for once I sincerely hope I am, there are three Romulan warbirds on an intercept course."

"Do either of you have any programming related to piloting?"

"I've had my share of piloting experience." Mark 1 squirmed a little before admitting, "well, actually it was only two lessons. And they were in a shuttlecraft. On the holodeck. But I showed great intuition."

It made logical sense, she supposed. If he was telling the truth about being from a ship lost in the Delta Quadrant, and she had no reason to believe otherwise, it stood to reason that the crew would have trained him. They would not have a way to acquire more crew in the event that someone was killed, so anyone, including the EMH, would have to be prepared to step up if needed. "Take the helm." As he slid into the seat, she quickly explained the console. "Thruster control, impulse engines, warp drive."

"Right."

"Mark 2, take the other station and be prepared to take whatever actions are necessary. I will need to perform repairs. Engineering, transfer to bridge, authorization Asil Zeta Five Two Nine."

A beep of affirmation answered her, and she hurriedly crossed the bridge to the engineering console. This sort of thing had its limitations in a way that working in Engineering would not, but she had no time to reach Engineering, nor did she believe that leaving the two holographic doctors on the bridge alone was advisable.

She heard a chime, and then a voice came over the comm. "This is the warbird T'Met calling the Prometheus."

A long silence, then she heard Mark 1's voice."This is the Prometheus."

"Activate your viewscreen."

"Our viewscreen is not operational." There was a hint of hesitancy in his voice, but he sounded confident. "We've had some trouble with Starfleet commandos."

"Where's Rikar?"

"In the medical bay. He was injured."

"Who is this?"

There was a moderately long pause, then she heard Mark 2 whisper "you first."

"You first." Asil turned in time to see Mark 1 cringe at what he had said.

"Repeat your last statement. I don't understand."

"State your identity." At least he had recovered quickly.

"This is Sub-Commander Almak. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded."

"They're already down. Maybe there's something wrong with your sensor readings. You'd better not try to transport until we can be sure it's safe." It was not a particularly opaque argument, but there was nothing that would be more effective readily available.

"Lower your shields immediately or I'll open fire."

"Immediately? Yes. Prometheus out."

It would have been illogical to be surprised that their ship was almost immediately fired on.

Cliffhanger, hehe. I know, I'm evil, but I'm also nice because I gave you this now instead of making you wait even longer.

This chapter is heavily based on the Voyager episode Message in a Bottle, and also references the DS9 episode Dr. Bashir, I Presume.

Please review.