The Complication

by CharlieFenwick

Data struggles to reconcile the discrepancies between Tasha's verbal and nonverbal communication during and after the events of Ligon II. "Am I the 'complication?" Data asked. Data begins to develop emotions. Tasha/Data fluff & angst. Data/Geordi friendship. Covers the events of TNG season 1 with- missing scenes, original adventures, and some mild AU retelling of events.

110. Promises Made

Author's Note: Annnnnnnd we're back!

The next few chapters will wrap up this Enterprise-C tie in and set the stage for the conclusion of the Conspiracy arc.

As a reminder, in this series the Enterprise-D launched prior to 2364. There's approximately a year of time between Encounter At Farpoint and The Naked Now.

Thank you for sticking with this story and all of your support!

All my love,

Charlie

-X-

10:30 came too quickly.

Picard felt like he'd barely shut his eyes before he had to be up again to deal with this latest crisis.

Or rather, this latest series of crises.

Starfleet was breathing down his neck.

The Romulans were too close for comfort.

And the team was starting to ask dangerous questions.

All casual chatter stopped the minute Jean-Luc strolled onto the Observation Lounge with Richard Castillo and the other prisoners in tow.

Well, nearly all the other prisoners.

Roosevelt was still clinging to life in Sickbay and there was the unresolved manner of the Romulan held in the Brig.

Beverly wasn't present either. She was in Sickbay keeping a constant vigil over Roosevelt and helping him to record a message to his sister.

The team was given a brief overview of the survivors' journey – they had escaped and spent the last decade on the run working as an underground movement to disrupt Romulan activity.

And that was where the story ended.

Jean-Luc leaned forward in his seat. He glanced around the table, studying the faces of his officers.

"At the moment we have four pressing issues," Picard announced.

Jean-Luc cleared his throat.

"Mr Castillo and his team are going to brief us on what they know. There's an emerging threat in the Beta Quadrant. Something we haven't encountered before," Picard explained. "But firstly, they'll fill us in on this Romulan super starbase of sorts," Picard explained.

His primary concern was the Romulans.

The devil you know.

"Which raises the other two issues at hand – we are harbouring the survivors of the Enterprise-C along with Romulans and the bodies of members of the Klingon Defence Force," Picard went on.

He shook his head.

"Not to mention a stolen Romulan ship," Picard added with a heavy sigh. "And I can fathom no way to safely nor subtly handle properly reintegrating these men let alone handling the funerary arrangements and notification."

Certainly not without raising suspicion.

"Admiral Aaron has sent word there will be a formal inquiry into our delay. I would not be surprised if Starfleet has already dispatched ships to verify our story," Picard said.

It would only be a matter of time before Starfleet confirmed it was ruse.

"We have three, perhaps four days before we're caught red-handed," Picard said. "And I don't have to remind you what we're up against."

Data's expression shifted in the way it always did before he prepared to deliver unwelcome news.

"Mr Data?" Picard prompted.

"Captain, your estimate is based on ships leaving the nearest Starbase. However, if Starfleet has been operating vessels outside of the designated flight plans then it is possible a ship could intercept us in less than twenty-four hours," Data advised.

Riker shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Worf and Tasha exchanged a dark look.

At the far end of the table, Castillo's team were concerned.

"Forgive me, Captain. But I sense this trepidation is not merely a fear of violating Starfleet regulations pertaining to flight plans," said Vil Arandev.

"You're right," Picard acknowledged.

He sat up straight and folded his hands on the table.

"And in the spirit of honesty I will share what little we have been able to decipher," Picard said.

There was no sense in hiding this. They needed to trust each other.

"I'm afraid Starfleet is no longer the organisation you once knew," Picard began.

He gave them a brief overview of the disturbing changes they had witnessed in the last year – unexplained disappearances, nonsensical orders, unusual reassignments away from the Neutral Zone.

"Publicly the Romulans and many experts within Starfleet and Federation diplomatic circles claim these overtures of peace are genuine," Picard said.

"And the ones that don't have a funny way of retiring, dying, or disappearing," Riker grumbled.

"We've been monitoring the side of it," Ghost chimed in.

Richard's expression shifted. He was full of regret.

"And trying to get a message out for years," he admitted.

He blamed himself. His relentless hope that he would someday free Sela had left him focused on the wrong mission.

"Then you can confirm these overtures of peace are a deception?" Picard inquired.

Verax snorted.

"There will be no peace with the Empire. Not while power remains in the hands of the Imperial family & the Black Eagles," Verax said.

Data perked up.

The complex and secretive nature of Romulan politics fascinated him. There was so little known. Even the information that was considered expert level came with a disclaimer that the Romulan Empire was famous for projecting a public image that did not accurately reflect the reality of her internal affairs.

"Is the Senate not considered a multi-party body? The latest Federation intelligence suggests there are seventeen distinct political parties on Romulus. Only three of which have real power, correct?" Data inquired.

"Only one now," Verax said.

The Imperial-backed Black Eagles were the only party on Romulus with any real power.

"They've managed a rare feat – diversifying power between the Senate, the Fleet, and the Tal Shiar," Verax explained.

"This is who's behind this latest attempt to infiltrate Starfleet," Ghost said.

Richard had to choose his words carefully.

"The head of the Black Eagles is General Morak Paliurus," Castillo said.

Tasha involuntarily shuddered.

"We've heard of him," she shared.

As Vice-Proconsul of the Senate and Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, Morak's reputation preceded him.

Though there were only a handful of people present around that meeting table that knew the true nature of Morak's brutality.

"He is third in line as Emperor," Data said, referencing the limited public knowledge database on known Romulan profiles.

Verax shook his head.

"If the General gets his way – he will be the next Emperor," Verax said.

The current Emperor, Lysio, was Morak's nephew. Though he had no heir (yet), law dictated that both his wife (the current Empress) and sister had stronger claim than Morak.

"Mark my words, they'll be dead within the next year," Verax cautioned.

"He will stop at nothing, Captain," Vil Arandev advised.

Though he was no profiler, Arandev's natural Betazoid telepathic abilities had allowed him to pick up on the hidden parts of Morak's mind. He knew precisely how determined Morak was.

"He's driven. Unrelenting in his pursuit of this idea of Romulan supremacy. And worst of all – he's fanatical," Arandev explained. "There is no reasoning with him. Diplomacy is not an option."

"This will either end with Morak's triumph or his death," Richard concluded.

They knew General Morak would settle for nothing less.

"What do you know about this Starbase?" Picard asked.

Richard nodded to Ghost. He rummaged through his hidden pocket and produced an isolinear chip.

"With your permission?" Ghost inquired.

"Of course," Jean-Luc said, gesturing to the nearest access terminal.

Ghost inserted the chip so the team could view the files contained on it. A collective chill swept the room as the team got a first look at Ekloire Starbase.

Data cocked his head to the side. His mind raced as he processed thousands of questions.

Geordi whistled low and slow in astonishment.

Riker blinked slowly, stunned at the size and scope of such an installation.

Worf's mouth was so thin it had nearly disappeared.

"Bloody hell," Miles remarked.

"Bloody hell, indeed, Mr O'Brien," Picard agreed in a dark voice.

-X-

An hour later the shock still had yet to wear off.

It seemed unthinkable that the Romulans had managed to build such a large, cloaked, and easily mobile starbase right under Starfleet's nose.

But then again, Starfleet itself had been compromised and there was no telling how far back (or high) that infiltration went.

"Ekloire Starbase is only capable of moving at impulse speed," Ghost explained.

"But even still. That's incredible," Geordi said. "The power requirements alone must be tremendous."

"I'd hate to run maintenance in a place like that. I'd wager anything they go through stabilisers like they're blank replacement chips," Miles remarked.

Picard couldn't get too upset – his team were always curious and loved to geek out about any new technology they came across. It was just how their brilliant minds worked.

"Gentlemen, please," Captain Picard said as he raised his hand. "I'm sure we can theorise about the engineering elements of this at a later date."

"The Chief raises an interesting point."

Jean-Luc fought the urge to snap at Data.

"Captain, the power requirements for both maintaining the shields and moving such a massive object would tax even the most sophisticated power supply," Data explained. "The strain would cause grid-wide failures in the shield array."

Picard took a breath to steady his nerves.

"No, no. He's got a point," Tasha said before the Captain had a chance to speak.

She had sensed his frustration with Data.

"It wouldn't take much to tax a system like that," Tasha said. "An overload could easily disrupt the shield and leave the entire base vulnerable."

She paused and grinned.

"And a well-aimed, high energy weapon-"

Tasha trailed off, rocking her head side to side.

"Such as a Mark Nine photon torpedo with a heavy payload could be enough to weaponise the power core," Data finished for her.

Tasha nodded.

"What are you saying?" Deanna asked.

"Boom," Geordi summarised.

The team were feeling fairly confident in their assessment. They had faced impossible challenges before and somehow through ingenuity, hard work, and a bit of luck, they always managed to scrape by.

No one thought it would be easy.

But they had a plan.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Castillo said, shattering their sense of accomplishment.

He glanced over at Ghost. A concerned look passed between the two men.

Ghost clicked to advance to the next screen.

Tasha's stomach dropped.

"Fascinating," Data breathed as his eyebrows shot up.

Picard's brow furrowed.

"What are we looking at?" he asked.

It was a schematic of the Ekloire Starbase but there were a series of spots marked around the base exterior spanning outward for at least a thousand kilometres in every direction.

They were too small to be ships.

"It's a boom," Arandev announced.

"I've never seen a debris pattern look like that," Riker commented.

The image on the screen was too symmetrical to be randomly scattered debris.

"What we are looking at is not an explosion, sir. It is an astronavigational barrier," Data clarified.

"Like the submarine nets deployed during Earth's Second World War," Picard said.

It was an intriguing idea. Federation Starbases used detection grids – but nothing quite like this.

"This is the most advanced boom grid ever constructed. It will stop any ship or projectile from getting within a thousand kilometres of the starbase," Ghost explained.

He clicked to the next screen.

"There are eight separate orbital defensive towers that operate independently of one another to ensure the perimeter is impenetrable," Ghost went on. "In addition, these three power generators feed both the system and the grid."

"In the event of a failure, they each have enough energy to sustain the base for twelve hours," Castillo added.

"And these," Ghost continued, pointing at the different highlighted lines. "They're isolated disruptor fields that act like harbour chains – stopping anything that even gets close."

"So much for our plan," Geordi grumbled.

There would be no way they could get a weapon within range.

According to their surveillance, these generators were heavily shielded. They could sustain direct phaser blasts and torpedoes.

"What about a barrage?" Picard inquired.

He was ready to mobilise every last ship that could still be trusted.

"Sir, we would expend our entire supply of photon torpedoes before we would even 'scratch the surface' as you say," Data advised.

It was truly a modern marvel of engineering.

"This is remarkable," Worf noted. "Far more advanced than we thought Romulan technology capable of."

Verax smirked.

"Never underestimate us," he said.

"Indeed," Worf replied in a stiff voice as he looked Verax up and down.

He wasn't comfortable with the idea of keeping these Romulans on board. There were only two of them on board (Verax and Proventus).

But for Worf, that was two Romulans too many.

"This is just a fraction of the information we've been able to gather over the last few years," Castillo explained.

His face fell.

"Unfortunately, we weren't able to take everything when we fled. This was the priority. But most of our data is still back on Tantalus," he said.

"If it is still there," Ghost added.

It was very possible the Romulans had located their cave. If the Romulans had found it, there would be nothing left.

"The important thing is that the Romulans are amassing troops along the Neutral Zone. It's only a matter of time before this Starbase is fully operational," Castillo warned.

Jean-Luc sat back in his seat. He pursed his lips and nodded slowly, deep in thought.

"And then they will have an entire invasion force ready to strike in the Alpha Quadrant before we even know they're here," he realised aloud.

"And no Starfleet to stop them," Deanna added, finishing his thought aloud.

Jean-Luc rubbed his forehead in agitation as he sighed.

"This is obviously a bigger task than we can begin to decipher in this room. Let's break this down," Picard suggested.

He turned to three men at his right.

"Commander Data, Mr La Forge, Chief. The three of you will work with Mr Verax. I want you to repair that Romulan ship straight away. That is our priority," Picard ordered.

The anxiety level in the room took a significant jump with the Captain's announcement. Picard's orders were in direct violation of the Treaty of Algeron.

"I recognise this order is unusual," Picard acknowledged. "But we're pressed for time. And if Starfleet comes looking we may need to hide our guests for a while."

"Understood, Captain," Geordi said.

Picard hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he wasn't prepared to take any chances. He was still responsible for the seventeen hundred lives on the Enterprise.

And thoughts of the Horatio and her sudden demise were never far from his mind.

"Mr Worf, I'd like you and Lieutenant Crow Ghost to head down to the holodeck. Transfer these schematics to an interactive 3D holographic projection with a focus on security systems and structural integrity," Picard ordered.

It was a tall ask given their time constraints. However, they would need this diagram before they could even begin to assess the tactical situation.

"Bring in Mr Barclay and Ensign Crusher. Tell them it's part of a new training programme," Picard said.

He was reluctant to put anyone else at risk. The task would be a tremendous undertaking and there was no one better than Barclay when it came to holoprogramming.

Additionally, Captain Picard wanted a fresh perspective on this starbase from someone that had no preconceived notions about Romulan tactics. Wesley was just the right man for the job.

"Counsellor, you and Mr Arandev sit down and build a profile on this General Morak. I want to know everything about what he's planning and how it fits into the wider political situation on Romulus and here," Picard instructed.

Know thy enemy. Jean-Luc mused.

He felt like he knew Morak all too well already. Nonetheless, he didn't want to overlook anything. Picard felt like they were so outmanoeuvred that even the slightest detail could provide an advantage.

"All teams will coordinate with Commander Riker and Lieutenant Castillo," Picard announced.

He instructed Will and Richard to start with Deanna and Vil Arandev before checking in with the other two teams.

Castillo knew Morak better than anyone. Yet, his leadership expertise made him the perfect person to lead this endeavour.

"Uh, Sir-" Tasha said, raising her hand ever so slightly to catch Jean-Luc's attention.

Everyone had been assigned a task save for Tasha.

"I've got another job for you," Picard said.

He did not elaborate.

Tasha lifted her eyebrows.

"Sir? As Chief of Security, I think I should be down on the holodeck with Worf and-"

"I have another job for you," Picard repeated, cutting her off.

Usually, the Captain was only too keen to listen to the advice of his officers. This time, Picard was quick to shut down Tasha's recommendation.

"Sir, with all due respect, I am the foremost expert you have on Romulan weapons systems and covert operations," Tasha protested.

Worf understood her comment was not intended to belittle his own training. Worf was a fine and experienced officer.

But he didn't have the years of covert ops that Tasha had under her belt.

"Dismissed," Picard said.

-X-

Only Tasha remained behind. She waited patiently in her seat as everyone shuffled out. Jean-Luc said nothing until they were alone.

"Is this because of this morning?" Tasha asked.

Jean-Luc frowned.

"What are you talking about?" Picard asked in response.

"This morning, Sir. Is that why I'm being sidelined?" Tasha demanded.

The Captain's displeasure was obvious.

"No, I need your help," Picard said.

It wasn't entirely a lie.

Tasha didn't follow.

"No doubt Admiral Aaron has already dispatched a ship – possibly a whole division to search for our whereabouts," Picard explained.

Data's warning had left Jean-Luc scrambling.

He couldn't very well talk down the Admiral a second time.

"I need you to come up with a plan to delay being discovered. I also want your opinion on where you think they're coming from," Picard went on.

For the first time since their incident that morning, he met Tasha's eyes.

"No one knows more about covert operations and Romulan tactics than you. I think we have to start assuming Starfleet Command is taking orders from the Romulans," Picard said.

Tasha nodded and moved to get up.

"One more thing," Jean-Luc said, stopping her.

Tasha sat back down.

"Sir?" she prompted.

"There are over seventeen hundred lives on this ship. I'm responsible for them. And I am afraid they are now unavoidably involved in whatever conspiracy we've found ourselves immersed in," Picard said.

He couldn't very well risk separating the saucer section and sending them off to safety.

If the Romulans were controlling Admiral Aaron somehow then Starfleet would likely shoot first without hesitation.

"To that end-"

Jean-Luc paused. He was not comfortable giving this order.

"I would like you to look at… options in the event things turn hostile," Picard said.

"A minimal loss scenario," Tasha clarified.

"Yes," Picard answered.

It was a terribly ugly order.

But a necessary one.

"Right away, sir," Tasha said.

She left the Ready Room for the Security Office and tried to suppress the feeling in her gut. Tasha couldn't exactly explain it, but she felt like Captain Picard was intentionally trying to keep her off this mission.

-X-

"Jaysus," Miles remarked.

"You sure took a beating," Geordi said as he studied the damage.

Data ran his torch over the interior of the Bridge on the stolen Harrier-class Romulan ship. The damage was extensive.

Their knowledge of Romulan technology was limited at best (and at least fifty years out of date). Nonetheless, Data was confident in their ability to get the ship repaired.

But by his early estimate it would take at least forty-eight hours.

"She's structurally stable for the moment," Geordi said.

His brow furrowed as he eyed a particular portion of the hull.

"There's a fissure there. It will need to be repaired before this ship goes to warp," Geordi advised.

For the moment, the Enterprise was travelling at impulse speed in order to avoid giving off a traceable warp signature on Federation long-range sensors.

Repairing that fissure would require external work on the hull of the ship.

Miles sighed. He hated going out in the EV suit.

"For now, let's start with the power couplings. We can get the scrubbers up and running," Geordi said.

He shivered.

"And let's get the temp controls online, too. No sense working like this," Geordi advised.

-X-

An hour later, Geordi pumped his fist in triumph.

"Ha ha!" he cheered. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

There was a small lurch as the environmental controls came back online.

"Let's crank this heat up," Geordi said.

His fingers were numb from working in the cold. Even Data, who had a far greater environmental tolerance, had been uncomfortable in the chill.

"Computer, raise temperature ten onkians," Verax ordered.

Warm air began to flood the Bridge where they were working.

"Oh, that feels nice," Geordi said.

"Speak for yourself," Miles grumbled across the radio.

He was outside the ship working to repair the hull damage. There was nothing between him and the cold of space save for an EV suit.

-X-

Shortly before lunch, Wesley stopped into Sickbay.

He spied his mother in the far corner. She was sitting next to one of the cots and talking softly with the patient there.

The patient looked to be in rough shape.

"Wesley!" Beverly said, surprised by his appearance.

She leapt up from her seat and smoothed down the front of her medical jacket.

"What.. uh what are you doing here?" she asked.

"It's Thursday, mum. We always have lunch together?" Wes reminded her.

Beverly clutched her forehead.

"Oh! I am so sorry, Wes," Beverly apologised.

Wesley grinned.

"It's alright. I came to tell you I'm helping Mr Worf with a project and won't be able join you today," Wesley explained.

He produced a lunchbox from behind his back. It was something Wesley had specially designed as a child that included a temperature controlled stasis field to keep food in an ideal range.

"You also didn't come home last night," Wesley added.

Beverly had stayed in Sickbay overnight to watch over Roosevelt.

"I thought you could do with a spot of Grandma Howard's hotpot," Wesley said as he handed over the box.

"Thank you," Beverly replied with a warm smile.

She was truly touched.

Beverly popped open the lid and inhaled the welcome scent of rosemary and garlic. Her grandmother's cooking always did the trick.

"Mmm. Smells delicious!" Beverly said.

She turned and grinned at Mr Roosevelt.

"Would you like to take lunch with me? There's plenty here," Beverly offered.

Roosevelt managed a weak smile.

"Twist my arm why don't you?" Roosevelt teased. "You know, when I get out of here – I'm going to whip you up the best seafood gumbo you've ever had. You'll think you're Galveston."

Beverly threw her arm around Wes.

"Truly. Thank you," she assured him.

"I hope you feel better soon Mr-"

Wesley stopped.

He didn't recognise this patient.

"Mr uh…"

"Roosevelt. Lieutenant Darius Roosevelt at your service," Roosevelt answered. "You didn't tell me you had a kid, Doc."

"He's a good kid too," Beverly replied. "You better get to work, Ensign Crusher."

She gave Wes a quick hug.

"But don't work too hard," she added with a wink.

Wes left Sickbay with more questions than answers. The patient his mother was concerned about had serious plasma burns.

Wesley wasn't aware of any such accidents on the ship lately.

Furthermore, Wes had memorised the entire crew roster. There was no Lieutenant Darius Roosevelt serving on the Enterprise.

He frowned as he waited for the lift.

Wes wasn't aware of the Romulan threat. But like all the crew, he knew they were on a temporary travel restriction. That meant no transfers and certainly no exchanges.

The lift arrived, but Wes remained still. The doors closed.

Instead of jumping onto the lift, Wesley turned for the nearest public access computer terminal.

"Computer, summarise service record for Lieutenant Roosevelt, Darius," Wesley ordered.

The computer scanned Starfleet records for a moment before returning more results than Wesley had anticipated.

"There are nine individual Starfleet personnel records for a Lieutenant Roosevelt, Darius. Please specify," the computer answered.

Wesley's brow furrowed. He was due down on the holodeck soon and wouldn't have time to read through all of them before his shift started.

Due to the severity of Roosevelt's plasma burns, Wesley wasn't sure he could make a visual identification.

He snapped his fingers.

"Computer, cross reference Galveston, Texas," Wesley requested.

Wesley held his breath.

"One result. Lieutenant, Roosevelt, Darius U. Current assignment USS Enterprise," the computer answered.

Well then. Wes thought.

Just as Wesley was about to deactivate the terminal, the computer said something that piqued his interest.

"NCC-1701-C," the computer concluded.

1701-C.

Wesley gasped.

It couldn't be. That ship had disappeared with all her crew five years before Wesley's birth.

Yet there was all the information before him.

Roosevelt was close in age to Captain Picard and Beverly. Records indicated he'd graduated from Starfleet Academy in 2332.

Assigned to the USS Enterprise in 2339.

It couldn't be an archive error. Not when so many dates corresponded to a timeframe that would make sense for the Enterprise-C.

The Enterprise-D wasn't even launched until 2362.

"Holy Hannah," Wesley remarked.

-X-

Castillo had a hard time keeping pace with Riker as they strolled through the ship. Things were so very different – even the new uniforms they'd been issued were a world of difference from the thick, red padded ones of Richard's day.

He'd been initially sceptical of the jumpsuit – but it had grown on him.

A group of children rushed by in the corridor.

"Wait for me!" one of them called out.

Richard jumped to the side to give them room to pass.

"Scuse us, Commander Riker!" they shouted as they pushed past.

Richard couldn't help but laugh. It was a scene he had never expected on a Starship.

"Sorry. It's the lunch hour. Kids have been a little restless lately with the travel restrictions. The school does trips to the Arboretum and uses the holodeck once a week. But everyone's been cooped up far too long," Riker confessed.

Richard just grinned.

"I think it's wonderful. Do you have uh-"

He gestured down the corridor to the children.

"No," Riker assured him. "At least not yet. Perhaps someday."

"A lot's changed," Richard acknowledged.

He wasn't just referring to the technology. The very attitude on the ship had changed. This was no good old boy's club academic atmosphere.

In Richard's day, the Enterprise-C had been a force for good. She travelled the quadrant, ran supplies, and provided a show of force when necessary.

Now everything was different.

Those tasks were still a part of the Enterprise-D's mission.

But now this ship wasn't merely a Starfleet vessel.

There were families.

State of the art scientific research facilities.

The Enterprise-D felt like a mix between a convention centre and an academic campus – and armed to the teeth beyond even the most advanced warships of Richard's day.

"If I may ask, do you have a uh.. well, someone?" Richard asked.

He was prying for information. His request was part genuine conversation and part curiosity.

Riker chuckled.

"It's complicated," Riker answered honestly. "Well, I tell a lie. It's not really complicated. We're just very private."

His relationship with Deanna wasn't always easy to explain to outsiders. They were friends and friends first.

Romantic intimacy came second, and they were both open to dating others.

"We're both our own individual people. Happy together. And happy doing our own thing," Riker went on.

He swiped his hand across the console to call the lift.

"In any case, it's not like I'm about to tell her what to do," he added with a laugh. "She is something else."

The lift doors opened.

"People tend to underestimate her – especially because of her job. But she's one the toughest people I know. Certainly, one of the toughest on the ship," Will continued.

The ever-patient counsellor didn't cut an intimidating figure at first glance. But Will knew exactly how strong Deanna was.

She was no wallflower. She knew how to assert herself and had the same training as any other Starfleet recruit. Will knew from experience that she was a force to be reckoned with in hand to hand combat.

"Speak softly and carry a big stick and all that," Riker teased.

Richard perked up.

"Really?" he asked as he studied Riker.

He could see it.

There was the same folksy charm. Broad shoulders. The disarming, goofy smile.

"And she's happy?" Castillo pressed.

He needed to be certain.

Riker burst out laughing.

"I'm sure she would tell me if she wasn't," he answered.

Richard breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, that sounded exactly like Tasha.

As they rode the lift up to Deanna's office, Riker realised there was likely a reason Richard was asking.

"Did you uh… that is to say, was there someone you-"

Will wasn't exactly sure how to phrase his question without coming across as indelicate.

"The person I loved died on Romulus," Richard said, finishing for him.

"I'm very sorry," Will said quickly.

Riker kicked himself for wading into such a sensitive subject.

"Thank you. It was a long time ago," Richard assured him. "I believe that in the end she was relieved to be free."

-X-

Riker and Castillo strolled into Deanna's office. She was seated at the table with Mr Arandev as he explained the makeup and psychological state of the Romulan Imperial Fleet.

"You have to understand, most Romulans soldiers never advance past the rank of Uhlan. Conscription is mandatory," Arandev explained.

"And unpopular," Richard chimed in as he slid into a seat across from Deanna.

"I would imagine so," Riker added.

Starfleet had always been a voluntary organisation. Conscription on Earth was considered an abhorrent and ancient practice. It had died out during the Third World War.

"You don't understand – these reforms have been deeply unpopular," Arandev explained.

"Enlighten us. We want to know everything," Riker said.

Riker was eager for any information on the elusive inner workings of the Romulan Star Empire.

"Service has long been compulsory for all serfs. Eighteen months ago, the Romulan Senate lowered the mandatory age from sixteen to fourteen," Richard explained.

Deanna gasped.

"They're children," she realised.

"Even more so than they were before," Arandev said. "And most of them will not live to see the end of this conflict."

A concerned look passed between Will and Deanna.

"I can assure you that we're not about to fire on a ship of Romulans without provocation," Riker said.

The very thought was too disturbing for Will to accept.

"You may have to," Arandev said. "Children or not, they won't hesitate to fire at you."

Richard knew that firsthand. The memory of his final encounter with Sela was still raw.

"And they have no qualms about eliminating their own troops if it becomes necessary to clean up a failed invasion," Arandev went on.

"What?" Deanna asked.

Richard closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

"We've seen it before," he shared. "Two years ago."

Morak had sent a small fleet of ships to try and bolster his negotiating position with the Klingons over several disputed territories along the border.

There were twice as many ships waiting (cloaked) in case negotiations went sour.

Diplomacy was a triumph and to sell the lie that these cloaked ships were sent by a rival, Morak had them destroyed.

"They killed six thousand Romulans just like that," Castillo said, snapping his fingers.

To the Romulans, such a loss was simply the cost of doing business.

And to people like Will and Deanna who had both grown up in the safety of Federation world, isolated from the conflicts with the Klingons and the Cardassians, such a notion was unthinkable.

"But the people on Romulus – how can they just let this happen?" Deanna asked.

She was struggling to understand.

Will's brow furrowed. He sat back and crossed his arms, shaking his head in dismay.

"If there are as many subjected people as you say," Riker began. "I mean, why don't they just overthrow this Morak and the Emperor?"

He trailed off.

Riker was confident that if someone ever tried that on Earth there would be mass protests.

Yet Castillo and Vil Arandev knew from firsthand experience that things were not that simple.

"Romulan society has operated for centuries on this system of oppression. And while there are those who believe in a Free Romulan State, it is far too dangerous for ordinary Romulans to form any sort of widespread movement," Arandev explained.

There was the Romulan Free State Underground movement that people like Verax and Tiro had been a part of. But they operated in complete secrecy, and they relied on small numbers in order to protect members.

Generations of cultural oppression had convinced many in the serf class that they were serving the Empire, that their living conditions were all part of a grand sacrifice for a nobler cause.

"The Tal Shiar has eyes and ears everywhere. Neighbours cannot even risk whispering of revolution for fear they will be reported," Arandev went on. "The culture of fear is the daily reality these people live. If they are not seen to be supportive enough of the Empire then their motives are questioned."

His expression turned grave.

"And by questioned, I mean hauled out in the middle of night. Entire families. People just vanish," Arandev said.

Some ended up working as prisoners on the estates of men like General Morak. Others were sentenced to forced labour camps and the mines on Remus.

But many died in Tal Shiar prison camps scattered throughout the quadrant.

"Fear is a powerful motivator. And you would be surprised what lengths people will go to in order to protect their families," Castillo added.

He paused.

"But there is a growing dissent. These new changes have ushered in a wave of frustration among the Infren," Castillo said.

The Infren were the lowest social class of free people on Romulus. They were mostly tradespeople and former serfs that had earned citizenship through military service.

"The winds are changing. And I fear that when they finally do, this will end only in bloodshed," Castillo said.

It had been one of the many fears he had for Sela – that she would be caught up in the fight for control of Romulus or executed alongside countless other young aristocrats were there to be an uprising.

The serfs and the Infren represented close to eighty percent of the population of the Empire.

"The Empire has long relied on a system of-"

Arandev trailed off, snapping his fingers as he searched for the right word.

"Ancien Régime," he concluded.

"Leadership, most of the high ranking officers in the Tal Shiar and the Fleet – they're all recruited from aristocrats. Meanwhile, most ordinary soldiers receive strict but insufficient training," Castillo explained.

Most Romulan uhlans spent six months in training. Their training focused largely on physical fitness and the basic use of Romulan technology.

They were conditioned to ask no questions and sacrifice themselves before revealing any secrets of the Empire.

Death before dishonour.

"It's nothing like Starfleet Academy. About ten percent of those uhlans will be singled out for more rigorous training in a specialised field. But advancement is rare," Castillo shared.

"They burn through these recruits like they're disposable," Arandev added.

He glanced down at Deanna's hand.

"May I?" he inquired.

Deanna nodded.

Arandev took hold of her hand. Together, they closed their eyes as Arandev used his Betazoid telepathy to allow Deanna the chance to experience what he had felt for the last twenty years.

Deanna squeezed her eyes shut. Her face grew warm. She shuddered in fear as a wave of emotional trauma flooded her mind.

"Enough," Riker said as he noticed a tear run down over the curve of Deanna's face.

"I'm sorry," Deanna apologised.

"It's alright. You don't have to do this. And you certainly don't have to apologise," Will said as he gave her other hand a reassuring squeeze.

"No," Deanna said.

She turned to Vil Arandev.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry for what you've been through," she said.

As a Betazoid, Arandev had experienced all the same trauma as the other prisoners. Only he'd felt it twice over.

For two decades, he had carried the collective weight of that experience. He felt the cumulative pain, grief, and anger of all the prisoners.

But Deanna also sensed more.

"I think we have enough information for now," Deanna said. "But we should resume later and discuss scheduling counselling sessions."

"Thank you," Arandev replied.

On their way out the door, Deanna caught Will's arm.

"Wait, Imzadi," she said, pulling him back into the room.

"We'll be out here," Arandev said as he and Richard waited in the corridor.

Imzadi.

Richard knew that word and the connotations it carried. Arandev had his own Imzadi back on Betazed.

So, it's not Riker. Richard thought.

-X-

"Imzadi?" Riker asked. "You've never called me that before while on duty."

Deanna made a face.

"I needed to talk to you alone," Deanna explained.

Her expression communicated that this was all business.

"What's wrong?" Riker asked.

"They're hiding something," Deanna said.

-X-

Ghost was shocked by how far holodeck technology had come in the last twenty years.

"And you use these for trainings?" he asked.

"Training. Recreation. We have even conducted diplomatic missions within these holodeck facilities," Worf answered.

"Incredible," Ghost remarked.

The arch slid open. Lieutenant Barclay and Wesley Crusher stepped inside.

"I believe we're ready," Barclay announced.

For the last half hour, Barclay and Wesley had been working to concentrate additional power to the holodeck so they could render a 3D interactive holographic schematic for the Captain.

Ghost attempted to input his isolinear chip but found it would not work.

"There seems to be a problem," he said.

He had no way of knowing if it was his own lack of familiarity with this new technology or if it was because the Romulan chip was not cross compatible.

"Let me take a look," Wesley offered.

He frowned and passed the chip over to Barclay. Reg was equally as confused as he turned it over in his hand to examine the design.

"I've never seen anything like this," Barclay confessed.

"It's new," Worf lied.

"W-w-we can try to work out an interface," Barclay offered.

"Yeah," Wes agreed as he studied the chip. "I'm sure we can have something in the next hour."

"Good," Worf said.

Wesley and Reg turned to head for the lab. Wes stopped just shy of the door.

"And I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. I'm Wesley Crusher. Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher," Wes said.

"Lieutenant Crow Ghost. Call me Ghost," Ghost said.

Wes nodded. He flashed them a smile before promising to return in an hour with a workable interface.

-X-

"What's wrong?" Lieutenant Barclay inquired.

He and Wes were alone on the lift.

"Do you know Lieutenant Crow Ghost?" Wesley asked.

"No," Reg answered honestly.

Reg was hesitant to say too much.

"Lieutenant Worf said he is a new Security Officer," Barclay explained. "Only… well, it's just that-"

Reg stopped himself.

He didn't want to get involved in anything.

"That there's no transfer right now?" Wesley guessed.

"Right," Reg agreed.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

-X-

Geordi sighed. He paused to detach his VISOR and massage his temples.

"Well, the control panel for this Tactical console is shot," Geordi advised.

It would have to be rebuilt from scratch before the ship could be made operational.

Data was working on the main navigational relay.

"Have you attempted to bypass the damaged portions of the power input?" Data inquired without looking up.

Data had found success in using that workaround on a number of other damaged panels.

"Yeah. I can't get it to work," Geordi said in defeat. "These tactical portions are drawing too much energy. It's like a sieve."

"It's the disruptor technology," Miles chimed in.

He set down his own sonic driver and popped up from underneath the helm.

"Disruptor style weapons draw far more unregulated energy than our own phasers. That's why when they overload like this, the damage is so bad," Miles explained.

He'd seen it in Cardassian technology during his time in the Border Wars.

"Your colleague is correct," Verax chimed in.

"How would you propose we fix it?" Data inquired. "I estimate the process to strip, rebuild, and replace this panel would add an additional nine hours and forty-six minutes to our workload."

Verax shook his head.

"I'm a Romulan not a weapons expert," Verax clarified. "I have a basic working knowledge of this ship, but I'm no engineer."

He chuckled.

"Look, I sold newspapers before I was an outlaw," Verax shared. "Coyote and Ghost know more about this stuff than I do."

Data blinked slowly.

"Mr Castillo and Mr Crow Ghost," Verax explained.

"Ah! Codenames. How very clever," Data remarked.

Suddenly, his face lit up.

"Do you have a codename, Mr Verax?" Data inquired.

"Inkspot," Verax replied.

"I hate to break this up, but we are on a time crunch," Geordi said.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and then reattached his VISOR.

"What we really need is an antimatter expert to look at this power system," Geordi commented.

-X-

"I know it's your day off," Geordi said.

"It's fine," Sonya assured him.

Technically, it was Sonya's day off. Most of the crew were guaranteed seventy-two hours off each week (though senior staff rarely got the chance to enjoy that time free of interruption).

Geordi swiped his access card to open his lab.

"You'll have the whole lab to yourself," Geordi said.

Lab space was at a premium on the Enterprise. It was highly competitive. On occasion, Sonya got the chance to work in one of the shared engineering lab spaces. But she had never had the opportunity to work alone in one of the private labs.

As Chief Engineer, Geordi had one of the best lab spaces on the ship.

"Again, I am so sorry about pulling you in today," Geordi repeated. "But I was thinking I could make it up to you tonight. Dinner? My place?"

Sonya chuckled.

"Yeah. That sounds great. And stop apologising," she said.

Sonya had been giddy for the chance to get her hands on whatever secret project was going on in Geordi's lab. He had described it as something unlikely she'd ever seen before.

At first glance, it did not look to disappoint.

"I'm going to swing by Ten Forward and pick up an iced coffee. Can I bring you anything?" Geordi offered.

"Sure. I could go for some hot chocolate," she answered.

"Right," Geordi nodded.

He turned for the door and then stopped. Geordi spun around and clasped his hands together.

"Hey and uh… look, what I said before, I meant it. You can't tell anyone about this," Geordi warned.

Data and Geordi had obtained Captain Picard's permission to pull in Sonya on their repair project. However, it was only on the condition that she be kept in the dark on the true nature of the project.

In effort to maintain secrecy, Geordi and Miles had removed portions of the power control panel for Sonya to work on in the lab.

"This is really important, and I don't want to share it with anyone yet. It's a Security matter," Geordi said.

It was partially true.

"And again, I'm really sorry about this," Geordi apologised.

"It's fine!" Sonya assured him.

-X-

Tasha was waiting outside the Captain's Ready Room for an audience. She had her tablet in hand with several options available based on his request.

After the incident that morning, Tasha was none too keen to enter until she had permission from Captain Picard.

"Come," Picard barked.

Tasha slipped in the door and stood a few feet away from Captain Picard's desk. She had her tablet clutched close to her chest.

"Please tell me you have good news," Picard remarked.

"I have a couple proposals for you to look at," Tasha said.

She cleared her throat and took a great risk.

"Sir, if I may, I think I have a plan that will buy us more time," Tasha offered.

Tasha chewed on the inside of her lip. It was a brilliant plan – but carried great risk.

"And I would need Data's help," Tasha said.

-X-

Tasha queued up a graphic on the viewscreen in the Observation Lounge.

"If Starfleet has been monitoring activity along the Neutral Zone then they need a monitoring station somewhere within range. A ship, a starbase, an outpost – something where they can access the long-range sensor grid and relay that information back," Tasha said.

She clicked the screen on her tablet.

"Starbase Yorktown used to be the primary monitoring station with backups on Outpost 791 and Outpost Navarre," Tasha went on.

According to Starfleet records all three locations were decommissioned.

"At least, they were supposed to be," Tasha said with a smirk.

Jean-Luc perked up.

"What did you find?" he asked.

"We passed Outpost 791 on our way to the Neutral Zone. I cross referenced our sensor readings with that region. Something's still there drawing enormous amounts of power," Tasha explained. "I don't think it was every officially shut down."

Data skimmed through the information Tasha had pulled.

"Sir, these readings are consistent with normal Starbase operations. It is likely there is still a team operating out of this location," Data said, concurring with Tasha's assessment.

"And you think this is where they'll be coming from?" Picard inquired.

Tasha shook her head.

"No. It's too small to house any decent sized ships. And I would estimate they only have a small surveillance team available," Tasha explained.

Picard didn't follow.

"We can use this to our advantage, sir," Tasha clarified.

She clicked her tablet again to shift to a new image. Several key points were highlighted on a star chart of the Neutral Zone.

"We can hack into these long-range sensors to transmit a signal making it look like we're here," Tasha said.

She pointed to the star chart at one of the planets near Sector 30.

"If we're right, then Outpost 791 will relay that information on to whatever ships Admiral Aaron has dispatched to find us," Tasha said.

"What if they continue to our current coordinates?" Picard asked.

They had been forced to give Aaron an update during his last check-in call.

"We can't stay here," Tasha said, stating the obvious. "I think we should set a course for these coordinates. This region is prone to plasma storms. And the heavy mineral deposits around this area make it a prime spot to hide."

Picard baulked.

Data's eyebrows shot up.

"Lieutenant, you are proposing we head right to the edge of the Neutral Zone," Picard pointed out.

Tasha nodded.

"Yes, sir," she said.

Jean-Luc had to admit it was exactly what he'd asked for – a place to hide.

"And what about the rest of the crew? The civilians?" Picard asked.

"There are a couple of options, sir," Tasha said.

They could detach the saucer section and leave it toward one of the Federation-friendly planets.

"Denobula or Istrin VI would both be viable options," Tasha said. "We could instruct them to feign a distress call. Say the drive section was destroyed."

"Let's keep that as a final option," Picard said.

Jean-Luc sat back in his seat and crossed his arms.

"And the other option?" Picard pressed.

"I've encoded an emergency programme into the ship's computer. It requires the command authorisation of three senior officers," Tasha answered.

That was what she had spent most of her morning working on.

"One minute from your order to deployment and thirty-eight seconds to take effect," Tasha advised.

Jean-Luc sighed.

"Minimal loss," Picard remarked.

"I do not understand," Data admitted.

He looked back and forth between them for an explanation.

"I asked Lieutenant Yar to develop a minimal loss scenario in the event we find ourselves facing the Romulans directly," Picard said.

"Thetafindin-4," Tasha added.

Data scowled.

"Thetafindin-4 is lethal to all humanoid lifeforms on this vessel," Data said. "It is quick to disperse and kills fast."

"Yeah," Tasha said as she glanced down at the carpet.

Tasha didn't feel great about it – though she understood the Captain's reasoning.

"In the event we are at risk of capture, I want to minimise the number of people taken by the Romulans," Picard explained.

For a moment, no one spoke.

"I see," Data said.

He glanced up to meet Tasha's eyes. A silent understanding passed between them.

In the event of capture, Data would activate a termination protocol to melt his own circuitry. It was a thought that terrified him.

"Well then, I suppose you two should get to work," Picard said.

Picard had his own unpleasant task awaiting him.

-X-

Jean-Luc popped open the cork on a bottle of his own Picard red. It was a '47 – one of the best vintages they had ever produced.

He set it down on the table and gave it a chance to breathe while he readied the caviar.

Finally, Jean-Luc set out the salad and a basket of bread. The soup was under a warming stasis field and there was a replicated choice cut of braised beef just waiting to sink a fork into.

Jean-Luc smoothed down his uniform and then tapped to activate a specialised shield device Data had worked up.

"It is about damn time," Senator Proventus barked.

"Will you join me for lunch?" Picard inquired.

He gestured to the table.

Proventus sneered.

"This is a wine from my family's vineyard on Earth. We've been producing wine for centuries," Picard said as he poured them both a glass.

He smiled as he handed one to Proventus.

"I would be honoured to share it with you, Senator," Picard said.

Proventus sniffed the glass before turning up his nose.

"I have tasted better swill in prison camps," Proventus said.

"Well, I would be more than happy to produce something else for you," Picard offered.

He wasn't about to let Proventus ruffle his feathers.

"Please," Picard said as he pulled out a chair for the Senator.

"I was so grateful when the Empire ended formal diplomatic relations with your Federation. It saved me from these mundane rituals," Proventus remarked.

Jean-Luc took his time slicing into his own meal.

"Well then, I'm sure we can dispense with the pleasantries. I'm accustomed to dining alone," Picard said in a jovial voice. "I'll just have this cleared away and you can return to your cell. Sorry to have bothered you."

Picard stopped to wipe the corner of his mouth with his napkin.

"Perhaps we can talk again in the future?" Picard said.

Proventus scoffed.

"You have no idea what's coming, do you?" Proventus asked.

"That is where I was hoping you could enlighten me," Picard said.

Castillo had filled Jean-Luc in on the details regarding Proventus. He was more of a reluctant convert to their cause than a genuine believer.

Proventus had fallen from grace – losing his immense power and position along with his vast estates and wealth. He was disgraced and left with nowhere to turn save for Castillo's band of rebels.

While they had a shared goal of disrupting Morak and his Black Eagles, Proventus was more concerned about returning to power than fighting for a Free Romulan State.

"Captain, you cannot begin to fathom the damage General Morak and this radical movement have done to the Romulan Empire," Proventus began. "What they will do if they succeed in this endeavour."

The line of Proventus's mouth thinned.

"You could prevent all of this," Proventus said. "Order your Lieutenant Yar to end her life on the Enterprise-C."

Jean-Luc did not respond.

"Impress upon her how critical it is. She can never leave that ship," Proventus said.

"With all due respect, we don't even know if those events will transpire in this timeline," Picard acknowledged. "Temporal mechanics is-"

Proventus slammed his fist down on the surface of the table.

"Do not lecture me about temporal mechanics. I have spent the last two decades living the distorted version of my history because of your damn temporal mechanics," Proventus barked.

He slammed his wine. His face soured.

"That whore and her bastard daughter disrupted centuries of order," Proventus said.

"You are referring to Sela," Picard said.

"Believe me, the world's a better place now that she's gone," Proventus remarked.

Jean-Luc's eyes narrowed.

"I thought she was a child?" Picard asked.

Proventus chuckled.

"She was an abomination," Proventus said. "But you would be doing a great service to both the Federation and the Empire if you were to ensure she was never born."

-X-

Ekloire Starbase | Romulan Territory

Korenus rolled to the side. He threw his arm around a warm body and snuggled close.

"Mmm," he said as he nuzzled against the shoulder.

The body turned over in his arms.

"Good morning," Merul whispered in a groggy voice.

Korenus groaned. Merul's eyes flew open in a panic.

"Dammit. Get off," Korenus said, pushing him away.

While Sela had shown considerably more interest in Korenus, he had not yet convinced her to set aside these two buffoons.

And even though her bed was certainly large enough to accommodate four (plus two massive dogs) Korenus felt things were getting a little crowded.

Korenus was the favourite. Yet Sela enjoyed playing with Merul and Liran too. She knew it put Korenus on edge and Sela liked the power.

Sela was desperate for validation. Korenus filled some of that need. But he understood that Sela needed the three of them.

For now.

Merul turned over and fell back into a deep sleep. He was none too keen on sharing either – but Sela's bed was a vast improvement over sleeping in the barracks.

Liran was still fast asleep.

Korenus rolled to the other side and snuggled up against Sela. She was lying on her side and skimming through a report on her tablet.

"Come back to bed. It is far too early," Korenus said.

"Sorry," Sela replied without looking up from her work.

"If you are having trouble sleeping I have a few ideas that might help," Korenus offered.

He planted a series of soft kisses across her exposed bicep.

"Can't," Sela said, shifting to indicate she didn't want to be touched.

It was barely 04:00.

"You can read later. I'll read it to you during first meal," Korenus offered.

His hand slipped under the blanket to caress her thigh.

"I have three more briefings to read before first meal," Sela said in a terse voice as she shrugged him off.

Sela rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"You don't have a clue, do you? We're less than two weeks away from this base being fully operational. We have delegations from six major backers coming today," Sela explained. "My entire afternoon will be spent with these people. I have to prep."

Korenus chuckled.

He swiped her tablet and tossed it out of reach. He kissed the back of her knee and grinned.

"And you'll be all dressed up to play Commander?" Morak teased.

Sela was aghast.

"I am the Commander," she asserted in a cold voice as she smacked him on the back of the head.

When she raised her second arm, Korenus's hand shot out to catch her wrist.

They struggled for a moment before Sela stopped.

Korenus smirked. There was a dangerous twinkle in his dark eyes.

Sela glared.

Korenus pounced.

He covered her mouth with his hand, shushing her as he pulled Sela off the bed and onto the floor. Korenus didn't want to wake their companions.

"Shhh. You can play with them later," Korenus murmured against her ear.

-X-

An hour later, Sela was laying on her stomach as she skimmed through her report.

It was a task made difficult by the fact Korenus was lying at her hip, walking his fingers up the back of her exposed spine.

"En foonchay en trion," Sela said.

She frowned and tapped to replay the audio file.

"En foonchay. En foon-jay," she said, trying her best to mimic the pronunciation.

"Don't you speak like ten languages?" Korenus teased.

"Eight," Sela corrected him. "But not Jihumne."

She had never bothered to learn such a pedantic language from a little nothing planet. Yet Jihumne had now come into the fold of the Romulan Star Empire and her people were only too enthusiastic to support General Morak.

Their ambassador was due to arrive later that day and Morak had delegated the task to Sela.

"Who is the esteemed ambassador that's forced so much work onto you?" Korenus asked.

"He's got one of those funny Jihumneen names. Something like a Gan of the Green Grasslands," Sela said with a hint of disdain.

She sighed.

"But they contributed significantly to my father's campaign. And we need their support," Sela went on.

Korenus kissed the scar on her back.

"And when you are finished tonight, will my lady sleep better after a massage?" Korenus offered.

Sela rolled over and studied his face.

"Why?" she asked.

Ever since that first night in her thermae, Sela had wondered what angle Korenus was playing. She had been raised to be naturally distrustful of others.

Especially those that were kind.

"What is it you want from me?" Sela asked.

"Only to serve you, my lady," Korenus answered as he kissed the back of her hand.

Sela shrank into the back of her bed as Korenus closed the distance between them.

Without warning, the door burst open and General Morak strode inside. He helped himself to the bowl of fruit on the table near the door.

"The delegation from Estullia have arrived ahead of schedule," he announced.

Morak sat down on the edge of Sela's bed.

"You have read the briefing?" he asked.

Morak bit into a piece of fruit as he cast a disapproving eye over Sela's companions.

"Yes, fenthair," Sela replied.

"Good girl," Morak said as he stroked her hair.

He stood and stretched.

"Do not be late, my little eagle," Morak warned after kissing the top of Sela's head.

As soon as they were alone again, Korenus released the breath he'd been holding.

"Doesn't that bother you?" Korenus inquired.

Sela blinked, confused. She looked to the door and then back to Korenus.

"He just comes in here like that?" Korenus pressed.

And treats you like a girl. Korenus thought but did not voice aloud.

It was a little disturbing how closely Morak kept tabs on his daughter and her activities.

"You have no privacy," Korenus said.

Sela rolled onto her side and clutched her blanket close.

"It's always been this way," she replied with a casual shrug. "I'm the heir to the Imperial family. I've always had attendants or tutors or guardians coming in and out."

Sela had never truly been alone.

She slipped out from the sheets and reached for her dressing gown.

"I have to bathe and dress now," she said.

Korenus caught her wrist.

"I have to-"

"I know," he assured her.

He brought Sela's hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to the back of it.

-X-

"You do realise we are breaking fourteen different Starfleet regulations?" Data asked.

Tasha looked up from her tablet but said nothing.

They were in the process of reprogramming a class one probe. They were going to set it in orbit around a nearby moon.

Once the Enterprise was underway back to the Neutral Zone, the probe would transmit a message to Starfleet Command.

They were going to feign engine trouble and claim they were headed to a Federation-allied Starbase to put in for repairs.

It was a longshot, but they were hoping to further confuse any ships that were on their tail.

"Please do not mistake my comment for disagreement. I believe your plan is creative," Data clarified.

He reached across the table and gave Tasha's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I have faith that we will be successful in this endeavour," Data said.

Tasha smiled.

"Really?" she asked.

"I cannot explain it. The odds are overwhelming against us. I have calculated an eighty-three point nine percent chance the mission will end in failure," Data said.

"Not helping," Tasha interjected.

Data flashed her a bashful look.

"But I believe we will succeed. I have to," Data said.

He smiled.

"I made a promise to take you to Føroyar," Data said.

It was enough to earn a smile from Tasha.

"Better be sure you programme that message right, Commander," Tasha teased. "It would be a shame if you never got to see what I intend to pack."

Her face broke out into a broad, impish grin.

Data's eyes lit up.

"Commander," Tasha added with a cheeky grin before turning back to her own computer.

-X-

At 16:00 hours the team assembled on the Observation Lounge for a second briefing. Captain Picard wanted an update on everyone's projects.

He was also keen to fill in the rest of the team on Tasha's plan to buy them more time.

"The ship took extensive damage. We'll need at least another day or two before she can fly on her own," Geordi advised.

"We may have a plan to buy you more time," Picard said.

As soon as Tasha was done explaining their idea, Richard and Ghost perked up.

"You're planning to go back to the Neutral Zone?" Ghost asked to confirm.

"No offence, but we just spent the last decade trying to escape across the Neutral Zone," Verax said in disbelief.

He was having a difficult time accepting they were headed back.

"I assure you that we will do everything we can to remain hidden. And we will not leave you there," Picard said.

Jean-Luc sat forward in his seat.

"We're not planning to cross into the Neutral Zone. We simply wish to hide along it until we can figure out what to do next," Picard explained.

No one spoke.

"I do not intend to cross back into the Neutral Zone with this ship," Picard assured them. "There are far too many lives on board to risk."

It was little comfort to the men that had spent the last decade on the run.

"For the next twenty-four hours, I want all our efforts focused on finding a way to destroy that Starbase," Picard ordered.

Jean-Luc dismissed the team to resume their duties.

It was going to be another long night.

Tasha hung around, lingering as the rest of the team scurried off. As soon as the room was clear, she approached Captain Picard.

"Sir, now that my task is complete-"

Jean-Luc's brow furrowed. A pain look crossed his face.

-X-

Tasha was practically giddy as she stepped onto the holodeck. She was relieved to finally be a part of the mission with the rest of the team.

Captain Picard begrudgingly allowed Tasha to join Worf and Ghost on the holodeck to look at the schematic of the Ekloire Starbase.

Richard and Riker had stopped in to assist as well.

"How close do you think this base is to being operational?" Tasha asked.

"A month. Maybe six weeks," Ghost answered.

"Then it is more important than ever that we find a way to penetrate this defensive perimeter," Worf said.

Riker scratched his chin as he studied the holographic schematic.

"T, is there any way we could use a modified probe and disguise it as a… oh I don't know, a supply ship or something?" Riker suggested.

Tasha scrunched up her face as she considered this idea.

"I would estimate they're using some sort of triple verification. While it might be possible to fool the sensors for a moment, we couldn't fool three of them," Tasha advised.

According to the surveillance from the survivors, the three power stations independently scanned and verified each passing vessel with visual sensors, ship registry, passcode authentication, and more.

"They're authorised to take down any vessel that they suspect is a threat," Ghost warned.

"We might have better luck trying to get onto an inbound Romulan ship," Tasha theorised.

She glanced at Worf.

He raised an eyebrow as he considered her proposal.

"It would be risky. But a small strike team could possibly sneak in undetected," Worf said.

Ghost eyed the pair.

"You're not actually proposing a team go in there?" Ghost asked.

"That would be a one-way trip. You'd never make it back out," Castillo argued.

Tasha shrugged.

"I don't like it much either. But we have to ensure that base is destroyed," Tasha said.

Richard's chest felt tight.

She couldn't. She absolutely couldn't.

"No, no. You'd never make it," Richard said.

Tasha was miffed.

"I recognise this isn't a great solution. And I'm open to suggestions. But unless you're hiding a big honking space gun that can wipe out a Starbase somewhere then we're left limited choices," Tasha said.

Richard's shoulders slumped. His expression softened.

"I did not mean to insult your abilities, Lieutenant. Truly," Richard said.

He knew Tasha well enough to understand she was irritated by his dismissal.

"It's just-"

He couldn't very well tell her what fate awaited across the Neutral Zone.

"As someone that's spent so many years as a Romulan captive, please believe me when I say that I have no desire for any of you to know what that entails," Richard settled on.

A look of pity flashed in Tasha's eyes.

"I implore you not to go there. Please find another way," Richard urged.

-X-

The door slid open. Geordi stepped into his lab carrying a tray with dinner for two.

It was going to be another long night and Geordi felt terrible for promising Sonya a dinner he could no longer deliver on.

Geordi had sent an urgent message to Guinan, and she'd whipped up something special for takeaway.

"Look, I'm really sorry about this. I'm sure you didn't want to spend the night in the lab," Geordi said as he set the tray down.

He lifted the lid and inhaled deeply, savouring the aroma of a steaming bowl of asopao de pollo.

"I'm just about finished with this receiver," Sonya said slowly.

She had her nose over a microscopic enhancer while working with a delicate portion of the power console.

As Geordi skimmed the contents of their dinner he made a mental note to thank Guinan. Not only had she whipped up one of Sonya's favourites, Guinan had thrown in a homemade chocolate torte and a fresh flower.

"Smells great," Sonya said.

"I am so sorry about this," Geordi repeated as he spooned up two bowls. "It's just that today has been wild. Captain Picard's got us on a deadline and this project is really important for-"

"Because you're trying to rebuild and stabilise the primary power components for a stolen Romulan ship?" Sonya finished for him.

She spun around on her stool and flashed Geordi a grin.

"The communications blackout, the red alert, our power fluctuations are consistent with towing a second ship at impulse in our inertia," Sonya began to say.

She was excited, thrilled even at the prospect of learning more about Romulan technology.

"Luis mentioned he was reassigned from Brig duty – that the whole team was," Sonya went on.

Her cousin Luis was like a brother and served as one of Tasha's junior Security officers.

"And then Wesley and I were talking about the travel time to and from our last destination was consistent with a trip to the Neutral Zone. Add to the fact we're still travelling at impulse as if to intentional stay clear of known Federation installations then-"

It was all said as one long, breathless stream.

"Sonya stop!" Geordi ordered.

Sonya froze.

"Stop. You have to forget about everything you just said," Geordi said, panicked.

Geordi gripped her shoulders.

"Don't talk about… don't even think about it," Geordi warned.

"I'm not going to say anything to anyone," Sonya assured him.

She understood the serious nature of their situation – or at least she thought she did.

"Geordi, I get this is important," Sonya said.

"No. No, you don't," Geordi said.

His hands were trembling as he started to pace in front of the worktable. He scratched the back of his neck. It was a sure sign he was nervous.

"You have no idea what we're up against. The people who are behind this. Sonya, they'll make you disappear if they find out you're even loosely connected," Geordi said.

He was rambling.

"I never should have brought you in on this. Dammit I knew I never should have!" Geordi went on, talking to himself.

"Okay, you're starting to spook me," Sonya confessed.

Geordi stopped. He glanced around the room and then turned to Sonya.

"Okay. Okay, you were never here. Got it?" Geordi asked.

Sonya was speechless.

Geordi quickly directed her over to their meal.

"You just stopped by for dinner. Yeah. That's what we'll say if they ask," Geordi said as he planned their excuse aloud.

"Who is 'they,' Geordi?" Sonya demanded.

Geordi stopped and took hold of Sonya's hand. He desperately wanted to tell her, to warn her that they were tampering with things that transcended the backbiting politics of Starfleet's brass and the shaky geopolitical ceasefire with the Romulans.

"You can't tell anyone about what you've seen here. Not Luis. Not Wesley. Not Emma," Geordi went on.

Emma was Sonya's roommate in their shared junior officer quarters.

"You can't tell anyone, Sonya. I mean it," Geordi said.

"Geordi, what is going on?" Sonya asked. "I understand the gravity of poking around a Romulan ship. In case you forgot, I paid attention while I was at the Academy."

Her face soured.

"I know enough to understand if we've got one of their ships that they certainly didn't hand it over willingly. And I also get it's a treaty violation," Sonya explained.

She was a little insulted Geordi thought such things were beyond her comprehension.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Geordi confessed. "I don't… I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you and if I was responsible-"

The thought haunted him.

But Sonya was clever - too clever for her own good.

"Are you under orders to keep this secret?" Sonya asked.

"Please don't ask me that question," Geordi pleaded.

-X-

Miles rested his head against the sealed door. He took a slow breath to steady his nerves before he spoke again.

"Please? Honey?" he called out. "Open the door?"

There was no response.

"Keiko?" Miles kept his voice soft.

He knew she was irked, and he understood that Keiko had every reason to be upset.

Tonight, they were due for a food tasting with Guinan in preparation for their upcoming nuptials. It was the fourth time they had rescheduled their appointment because of Miles's work.

And it was the second night this week alone when Miles had missed wedding planning time with Keiko because of the situation with the Romulans.

"Oh sweetheart, I'd have been there if I could have," Miles said.

He could sense his anger starting to boil over again.

The door slid open, and Miles had to check his temper.

"Look, work was hectic today," Miles snapped.

Keiko kept cool.

"Miles, I'm frustrated because you didn't even take the time to notify me," Keiko explained. "I know your job is busy. But you didn't even call or send a message."

She crossed her arms and frowned.

"I went down to Engineering to check if you were alright and they said you were off today," Keiko added in a heated tone.

To keep the nature of their project hidden, Commander Riker and Data had coordinated the official schedule to look as if the senior officers were all 'off duty.'

"Lieutenant Barclay said you were spending the day with Geordi and Data," Keiko went on.

Miles bit his fist to stop himself from popping off. They thought they had been so clever with their little ruse.

"I wasn't-"

"I checked Miles," Keiko interjected. "I asked the computer for your location. Do you know what it said?"

Miles's mouth went dry.

"Miles O'Brien is not on board the Enterprise," Keiko hissed.

She eyed him with heavy suspicion. Miles checked up and down the corridor to ensure they weren't overheard.

"It's not what you think," Miles whispered.

Without another word he shoved his way into their shared quarters. Keiko protested, insisting they needed a few hours apart to cool off before they discussed the problem.

"Guinan went through a lot of work to reschedule this for us. I was so embarrassed when you didn't show," Keiko said.

"It's not what you think," Miles said.

As she watched Miles fidget and shift his weight from one foot to the other on the carpet, Keiko realised he was truly distressed. He was sweating. The front of his hair was matted from perspiration.

His body was stiff as if he'd spent all day hunched over and crawling through the Jefferies tubes.

"Miles?" she asked, concerned.

"I should have sent you a message. I'm sorry," Miles apologised.

"What happened to you? Why are you so nervous?" Keiko pressed.

Miles pulled Keiko's hands close.

"Please don't tell anyone what you found out today," Miles requested.

He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before pulling away.

"I have to see Commander Riker straight away," Miles said.

He stopped in the doorframe and flashed Keiko a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry, honey. I truly am," he said before dashing off.

-X-

Commander Riker was still on the holodeck with Tasha, Castillo, and Ghost. They had completed their holographic rendering of the schematic.

Now it was just a matter of analysing the layout to determine their options.

Once that was set, Reg and Data would programme a number of simulations to test the effectiveness and probability of success.

The arch slid open, and Worf returned from a replicator run.

"Coffee and coffee," he said, handing over two steaming mugs to Castillo and Ghost.

Richard savoured the bitter liquid against his lips. It had been ages, decades really, since he'd last tasted a good cup of hot black coffee.

"Andorian fizz," he said, passing a cup to Riker.

"Thank you," Riker said.

Wesley had gotten him hooked on the fizzy blue energy slushie from Andor.

"And two triple shot Raktajino," Worf said.

"With the hazelnut sprinkles?" Tasha asked.

"And an extra shot of banana syrup," Worf answered.

"Cheers," she replied with a grin.

Tasha had been starting to feel sluggish. The effects of Raktajino withdrawal were making her irritable and less focused.

"Raktajino?" Castillo asked, intrigued.

Ahn and Sodan had long praised the delicious drink and being better than coffee.

"Forgive me, one of our late colleagues often spoke of this beverage," Castillo apologised.

"Here," Tasha said, offering hers.

Richard panicked.

"Oh, no. I couldn't," he said.

"We can easily replicate another one," Tasha assured him.

She'd been there and knew it was hard to accept after living in scarcity for so many years.

"Right," Richard said.

"I'll go," Worf offered as he passed his own Raktajino off to Tasha.

He knew how seriously Tasha took her Raktajino. Like Data, he'd been concerned about her increased fatigue lately.

"Thanks," Tasha said.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Worf anticipated her request.

"And I will bring back snacks," he promised.

Tasha beamed.

As Richard watched the familiar, easy nature between the two a thought crossed his mind.

Could it be? He wondered.

Richard knew it was absolutely none of his business. For the hundredth time that afternoon, he reminded himself that this was not the same Tasha Yar.

And yet.

Richard couldn't help but wonder. He longed to know that she was happy, that she was with someone that truly cared for her.

Captain Picard had been skint on details and Richard didn't feel it was his place to pry.

"Alright, let's take a look at these orbital power cells. Do you have any internal schematics on them?" Tasha asked, turning back to the hologram.

-X-

Data was on his back working furiously to strip away the melted wire on the main navigation console. He was planning to work through the night.

Verax, Miles, and Geordi had all taken off for a break to get something to eat.

Normally, Data would have been only too keen to join them. But this task was so vital that Data made the choice to forgo a break so he could keep working.

Data was also keen for a chance to pick the music now that he had the ship to himself. The onboard files included recordings from the Romulan Imperial Symphony.

Data considered it both a delight and a cultural duty to explore these music files.

It was an oversimplification to write off Romulans as Vulcans with emotion. Though as he absorbed their music, Data could see where that assessment had come from.

Their music certainly had more passion that traditional Vulcan pieces.

Out of nowhere, Data detected the shimmering noise of someone rematerialising on the Bridge of the ship.

Anyone else would have missed the sound above the high volume of the music.

Data was on red alert. He sat up and reached for his phaser. Normally, Data only carried a phaser on away missions. Given the sensitive nature of their project, they had all come over armed.

"Chief?" Data asked as he peeked out from behind the console.

"Hey," Miles said.

He popped open his toolkit and started to rummage around for his sonic driver.

"I thought you were headed to dinner with Keiko?" Data inquired.

"I made a mistake on the time," Miles confessed.

Data could detect a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"And she is unhappy?" Data asked.

"You can say that again," Miles remarked.

He felt terrible. After informing Riker of Keiko's discovery (and their need for a better plan), Miles had returned in hopes of reconciling that evening.

Keiko was concerned for Miles. With that said, she was equally frustrated that he wouldn't tell her what was happening.

In fact, Miles seemed more keen than ever to put some distance between them – going so far as to endorse Keiko's plan to spend the evening apart and 'cool down.'

"You know it's been hard enough these last few months dealing with this on our own. The travel restrictions. The communications blackouts. The questions from the junior officers."

Miles closed his eyes and sighed.

"But when she looks at me and I can't tell her what's going on… I just… I feel like it's always going to be this secret between us," Miles confessed.

A sad expression crossed his face.

"How do you build a marriage on that?" he pondered aloud.

"I am afraid I do not have an answer. But Keiko is a reasonable and compassionate person. It was part of why I initially calculated such high odds of success between your coupling," Data advised.

Miles chuckled.

"Well, I don't think there's much chance of any 'coupling' for a while," Miles grumbled.

He turned his attention to the Operations terminal to continue working on the deflector controls.

"I am sorry to see you hurting, Chief. I wish that I knew what to say to lift your spirits," Data said.

Miles waved him off.

"Don't sweat it. Thanks for listening. I'm sure it's different for you and T," Miles assured him.

Data and Tasha had each other. They could talk about the situation when they were off duty. They had one another to lean on.

"And it's not like you're planning a wedding in the midst of all this," Miles said.

Miles blanched.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" he stammered.

Data and Tasha's engagement was public knowledge. But for all intents and purposes, they publicly maintained they were happy just enjoying the engagement phase of their relationship.

No one aside from Geordi, Captain Picard, and Guinan were aware of anything beyond that.

"It is quite alright," Data said. "I am sure it must be very difficult to try and plan for such a momentous occasion at this time."

His words came from the heart. For once, Data felt he could empathise completely with Chief O'Brien.

-X-

Back on the holodeck, progress was slow going.

Riker groaned. He blinked slowly and closed his eyes for a moment.

"I'm just resting them," he assured the group.

Will was starting to get a headache from staring at holographic schematics all day.

Fortunately, Tasha had been smart enough to order up a holographic table and chairs, so they weren't left standing all day.

She flopped down and rested her head in her hands.

"We need to look at this fresh," she said.

They were all in need of a break.

Tasha glanced up at Worf.

"Do you want to go knock around in the ring for a while?" Tasha offered.

She had a sneaking suspicion Data wouldn't be coming home that night. It would give Tasha a chance to work up a sweat and forget about some of this Romulan business for a time.

Worf cleared his throat.

"I am afraid I have plans with Lieutenant Jae this evening," Worf said under his breath.

Tasha giggled and punched his arm.

"Good for you," she said. "Things are getting a little serious, eh?"

Worf scowled.

"I do not wish to discuss the nature of our relationship," Worf replied stiffly.

Tasha shrugged it off. She knew how deeply Worf valued his privacy.

Over in the corner of the room, Richard watched their interaction with fascination.

Not Worf either. Richard realised.

"Hey," Ghost said.

He tugged on Richard's sleeve to draw his attention back.

Ghost and Castillo were off in the corner. They were having a tense discussion in hushed voices.

"You know we have more," Ghost said.

They had left a whole wealth of information back on Tantalus. The team had been forced to abandon it during their chaotic escape.

It was a miracle Ghost had managed to smuggle off a fraction of their isolinear chips.

"There's cases of these chips. Information. Troop movements. Everything is back in that cave and there's a very real possibility it's still there," Ghost said.

"You're talking about going back there," Richard said.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"We sacrificed so much to get here," Richard insisted.

He couldn't ask the men to go back. Hell, Richard himself was terrified of returning. They had managed to beat the odds and escape.

Richard pulled the note out of the hidden pocket in his chest.

"I made a promise to each and every one of the people on this list. Every year it has grown longer," Richard said.

He owed it to their loved ones to deliver final messages and memories. He had made a vow that he would ensure the survivors of the Enterprise-C were not forgotten.

"You made another promise too," Ghost said as he glanced over to the table where Tasha and Worf were chatting.

Riker was suddenly struck by an idea.

"Hey! You guys know how to play poker?" Riker asked.

-X-

Deanna was thrilled with Will's idea.

She knew it would be a struggle for the team to readjust to life free of captivity and being on the run. A small, intimate little poker evening would be just the trick.

"Beverly sends her regards," Deanna said.

The good Doctor had declined the invitation. She felt she couldn't leave Sickbay. Beverly had kept a constant vigil next to Roosevelt ever since they'd rescued him.

She ate, slept, and showered in Sickbay so that she could be on hand if he needed her.

"Worf?" Riker asked.

"Hot date," Tasha answered.

She flashed them a knowing look. Everyone was pleased Worf had started to warm up to dating among the crew.

"And where's our best dealer?" Riker asked.

"Working," Miles answered.

Data had opted to remain on board the Romulan ship. Normally, Tasha would rail against such a choice for she feared he was neglecting his own needs.

But Data had assured her he wanted to be there. This was just too important.

Poker may seem like an odd choice, but the team needed a small distraction. Riker had set a timer and they were only going to play for ninety minutes before returning to work.

"I'll deal," Deanna offered.

"I'll deal," Geordi said as he swiped the cards from Deanna. "No offence, Counsellor. But the last time you were the dealer we had cards flying everywhere."

Deanna's face flushed. She had been eager to try out a new card trick. Data was a wonderful tutor. Deanna wasn't quite a star pupil.

"Chief, aren't you supposed to be testing wedding cakes the like tonight?" Geordi asked.

From his seat across the table, Richard fought the urge to look up.

Wedding cake.

Tasha was planning a wedding. It was one of the few details Captain Picard had shared.

He discreetly glanced over the top of his cards. The Chief had a jovial, folksy manner about him.

And a mop of curls.

Tasha had more than expressed her fondness for Richard's hair during their time together. In fact, she'd had trouble keeping her hands off his hair.

"I was late. Keiko's none too pleased," Miles said.

So much for that. Richard thought.

"Worst of all, she knows something's up," Miles added.

Deanna's heart went out to him.

"Would it help to schedule a counselling session?" she offered.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring down the mood. I'm sure our guests would like to talk about something other than this current threat or our mundane lives," Miles offered.

Castillo chuckled.

"Forgive me," he apologised quickly.

Arandev smirked.

"We have had so little sense of normalcy that the mundane is, in fact, rather appealing," Vil shared.

Popcorn was passed around.

Miles and Geordi's typical banter had everyone rolling.

And for a brief moment, the men from the Enterprise-C were able to forget about the threat and simply enjoy an evening with good food and laughter.

To everyone's delight, Verax was quite skilled at poker. The Romulans had a similar game called Verinato. After a surprisingly good night, Tasha was sitting on a happily little stack of chips.

"I'm out," Geordi said.

He set his cards down to fold his hand. He'd been sitting on a pair of eights for the better part of the last half an hour, but Tasha wasn't backing down.

"I'm all in," Richard said.

He pushed his pile of chips toward the centre. Tasha eyed him with heavy scepticism.

"Because you are bluffing," Richard remarked.

Tasha feigned a cool demeanour.

Geordi laughed.

"Good luck. She's harder to read than Data. Three years and we've never figured out her tell," Geordi said.

Richard flashed her a grin.

"I uh… well, I don't want to disrupt-"

"No. I want to know," Tasha said.

She was curious. With the exception of Data, no one had ever figured out her tell.

"Go on," she urged, holding Richard's gaze.

"You reach for your chips before your turn to project confidence when you have a weak hand," Richard said.

Tasha said nothing as they stared at one another from across the table. For Richard, this was all too familiar.

"And your eyes twinkle when you have a good hand. You try to hide it, but your face lights up," Richard confessed.

Tasha bit her lip and averted her gaze. Suddenly, it was all too intimate. She cleared her throat.

Deanna watched the exchange with prime curiosity. She could sense there were feelings there – real, deep feelings.

This was no idle flirtation.

-X-

Ekloire Starbase | Romulan Space

Imported spiced Orion wine flowed freely. Military and Tal Shiar brass mingled with delegates from the Imperial senate and guests from the outer colonies.

"Thank you," Korenus said as he swiped a glass of wine from a passing server.

The buffet table was calling his name.

It had been ages since Korenus had last been free to wander in social circles like this.

After his father's downfall and his family name was left disgraced, Korenus had struggled along selling his skills to the highest bidder.

And skills they were indeed.

Korenus was no ordinary sellsword – he had the experience of living in both extremes of Romulan society.

Like Sela, he'd been educated by private tutors and raised in the scheming political world that was the modern Romulan aristocracy.

Korenus knew the major players. The unwritten rules of high society were embedded in his DNA. He understood when to feign polite interest and when to show strength.

Most importantly, he knew how to survive.

At least he thought he did.

Like most Romulan aristocrats with a similar background, Korenus also shared a healthy ego and impenetrable sense of superiority about his place in the world.

Merul and Liran had been ordered to remain in Sela's quarters to guard them against any possible intrusion or surveillance efforts while Sela was away.

Publicly Sela had stated Korenus would be the one to accompany and staff her at this event because of his experience mingling with the aristocracy.

Yet it was obvious to all three of her new personal staff that Sela enjoyed his company.

"My lady," Korenus said as he passed Sela a glass of wine.

"Thank you," Sela said.

Korenus risked flashing her a discreet look – enough to earn a smile before Sela turned back to her conversation.

"You see, once we've conquered the Alpha Quadrant, exquisite wine like this will be readily available. Your Excellency, our plan is not only for the glory of the Empire – but also for the benefit of trade," Sela said.

Part of selling these supporters on Morak's plan relied on talking up the benefits. Morak promised that the availability of rationed and contraband products would greatly improve after he annexed the Federation.

"Your own people would benefit from a wealth of new worlds looking for a source of geldan salt," Sela said.

Korenus coughed to cover a snort of laughter.

"My father thanks you for your support, Excellency," Sela said, ignoring Korenus.

As soon as the delegate was gone, Sela shot a warning glare at Korenus before turning to her next target.

Unfortunately, it wasn't so easy.

As Sela made her way along a line of delegates waiting to speak with her, Korenus fought the urge to chuckle at what he felt were the ridiculous customs of some of these conquered worlds and their illusion of importance.

There were the Brushtiar with their signature, wild lavender hair and feathered jewellery. The Romulan Star Empire had rolled over their pathetic planet more than a century before.

The High Chancellor of Vendior was nothing more than a decrepit old man clinging to his lone dilithium mine and delusions of grandeur. He longed for a bygone era when his world had smaller, and his position had actually mattered beyond a formality.

"Regent Timopopduen, welcome," Sela said with a polite nod to the Istopop sovereign.

Korenus looked the man up and down as he studied his unusual attire.

"I'll never forget the look of these," Korenus remarked. "I was still an officer in the Imperial Fleet during the siege of Wenduwombo."

He chuckled and turned to Sela, flashing her a grin as he recalled the fond memory.

"We had heard great stories of the formidable Istopop warriors. And it was like a rainbow colour popping up from behind the rocks," Korenus recounted.

Sela blanched.

"I like your little decorative sash," Korenus said as he touched it. "Colourful."

Sela was horrified.

"Please forgive my aide. He suffered a traumatic injury in battle that has impacted the frontal lobe of his brain," Sela said.

She bowed politely. Sela gripped the back of Korenus's arm and guided him away from the party. She practically shoved him into a private alcove in an isolated corridor.

"That is not a sash. It is an award for valour and a symbol of the Istopop monarchy," Sela said in a low, warning voice. "When you insult it, you insult their sovereign."

Korenus laughed.

"They're a grubby little people from a nothing planet," Korenus said.

His cheek stung as Sela slapped him.

"My lady-"

"Silence," Sela hissed.

Korenus lifted his head to meet her eyes. He looked Sela up and down before flashing her a cheeky look. Sela was outraged.

"Don't speak to anyone else," Sela ordered.

Korenus responded with a low bow.

"As you wish, my lady," he said before adding. "In any case, I have never bothered to learn much about geldan salt as I never expected to share a table with someone that trades it. I thought those days were behind me."

It was an attempt at a joke. Geldan salt was often seen as a staple of the lower classes.

Sela whacked Korenus on the back of his head.

"The impudence!" Sela scoffed.

She was so angry that she started to shake.

"Eighty percent of our Empire relies on geldan salt. Not to mention the coolant we depend on for our cruisers is derived from an isotope that-"

She froze as Korenus cupped her face.

"You really do know everything about them, don't you? All that hard studying," Korenus teased. "So brilliant."

Sela was outraged.

"You," she began.

"Probably paid attention to every one of Professor Toreneus's lectures on the importance of Imperial infrastructure? Hmm? Passed the History of Trade Law with top marks?" Korenus said. "Spending all your free afternoons in the library?"

Sela pushed him away.

"Yes. Yes I did. That's who I was. It's who I have to be," Sela said, blinking back tears. "I can't afford to make jokes at the expense of allies. Those grubby little puppet leaders contribute to fifteen percent of my father's forces."

Her chest was heaving.

"We rely on a coalition of allies and colonies for dilithium and troops and grain. And we smile and break bread with them because that is what it means to run an empire," Sela said in a terse voice.

Korenus hadn't anticipated a lecture.

"And you would know that if you hadn't been one of those self-entitled, spoiled aristocratic idiots who breezed through your time at the Imperial War Academy schmoozing and playing Gahere," Sela spat.

Gahere was a rough sport played by many young Romulans. They spent their weekends on the field hoping to roll over the enemy team (or at least check them hard enough against the boards to reduce their numbers).

Sela knew the type.

They were boys that had picked on her and called her the little human bastard (and worse), the boys that had trashed her room as a prank.

The boys that tripped her in the corridor and stole her clothes from the shower.

The very same boys that beat her senseless while her Romulan instructors looked the other way between classes.

Yes, Sela knew the type all too well.

Suddenly, she was repulsed by Korenus.

Repulsed by this man that had danced through his entire life on charm and status and had never known what it meant to work hard just to survive.

"Falconry and crew actually," Korenus replied coolly. "I'm not bad with a foil either."

Only Sela was in no mood to jest.

She had never had that kind of privilege. As a half-human bastard Sela had only ever had one choice. She'd had to work twice as hard as her peers just to survive.

Sela had to be perfect.

She couldn't afford to make mistakes. Because for Sela, a mistake wasn't just the difference between a good posting and an excellent one – it was the difference between Romulan enough or not.

A place in the Imperial family and imprisonment.

Sela quickly brushed away her tears. She had long since learned that emotional displays were likely to earn to a reprimand from her father.

Sela straightened her shoulders and smoothed down her uniform in an effort to regain her composure.

"Go, go back to my quarters. You're dismissed," Sela said.

Korenus's stomach dropped. His chance to return to glory evaporated before his eyes.

"My lady," he said.

He offered her a low bow before retreating. Sela felt a fresh wave of emotion as she watched him back away.

He was the first person that had made her feel truly seen in ages. She didn't want to send him away, but she also couldn't afford to have him make another mistake.

Disrespecting one of their allies could cause a fracture in the delicate nature of such relationships – or even a withdrawal of support.

"Korenus," Sela said in a commanding voice.

He froze.

Sela instantly regretted her choice. She couldn't afford to be seen as weak.

"You are dismissed for the evening," Sela clarified. "And I will use this time to consider if I will make it permanent."

-X-

Back on the Enterprise, Jean-Luc was struggling with his own conundrum.

With both Starfleet and the Romulans breathing down his neck, Jean-Luc was concerned about what would come next.

There was a very real possibility something could happen to the Enterprise.

At the moment, they were the only ship to know about the threat of Ekloire Starbase and the Romulan invasion force.

And the unusual new lifeform called mechs.

Picard shuddered. With everything happening, he had barely had time to discuss this emerging threat with Castillo.

Jean-Luc had a responsibility to raise the alarm.

He couldn't trust Starfleet.

Jean-Luc tapped his communicator.

"Mr Data, please report to my Ready Room," Picard ordered.

-X-

"Data, I need to relay several encoded messages without revealing our point of origin. And I need to ensure they are not detected by Starfleet channels," Picard said.

It was a tall order.

"When do you wish to transmit these messages?" Data inquired.

"As soon as possible," Picard responded.

Data understood the urgency.

"The process of disguising our point of origin is relatively easy," Data explained. "However, I cannot guarantee the messages will not be detected."

That was the tricky part.

"It will take me at least an hour to adapt the necessary number of Class-A probes. They will act like a beacon to transmit the message. I presume you would like them to self-destruct once the message has been sent?" Data inquired.

It was the only way to ensure someone couldn't reverse triangulate their launch location to pinpoint the Enterprise.

"A wise precaution," Picard said in agreement.

"Sir, I believe it would also be prudent to record your message in code," Data advised.

Jean-Luc snapped his fingers as he sat up in his chair.

"I've got an idea for that," Picard said.

-X-

Ten minutes later, Jean-Luc found himself outside the holodeck.

Data was off in his lab working to adapt the necessary probes.

The arch slid open, and Picard stepped into a programme he had long since forgotten. It had been years since Jean-Luc had last been within these walls.

The lighting inside was dim. There was an ethereal blue glow that emanated from the lanterns overhead. The scent of cheap perfume and whisky penetrated every available inch of breathable air.

In his youth, Jean-Luc had longed to escape to a place like this. He eventually learned the reality of such a locale was hardly the adventure he'd once envisioned.

A simpering giggle from the corner brought Jean-Luc back to the present.

"Business or pleasure?" asked a familiar Bajoran madame.

Isa Areen.

"Welcome to the Garden of Celestial Temple."

She slipped away from the corner and toward Jean-Luc. Her seemingly endless series of bracelets jangled with each step.

"First time here, luv?" she asked.

She casually positioned herself to flash her thigh from behind the high slit of her silky dress.

"Computer freeze programme," Picard ordered.

The Garden of the Celestial Temple was an infamous brothel located on a distant border outpost near G'kantal.

During his time in the Border Wars, Starfleet had used the location to pass along information. It was a place that Jean-Luc knew Captain Rixx would instantly recognise.

Picard stepped through the beaded curtain. He strolled past the bar and gaming tables, ignoring the Dabo tables staffed by young, attractive people of all stripes.

Bajoran. Cardassian. Orion. Nausicaan.

Gender. Religion. Age.

None of it mattered here.

The Garden of the Celestial Temple promised to provide for every appetite.

Regardless of one's loyalties in the Border War.

Picard climbed the staircase that led up to the private chambers where young Starfleet officers and Cardassian Guls alike came to blow off steam.

Jean-Luc slipped past the guards at the end of the corridor to take a second set of stairs up to the top level where Madame Isa kept her 'exclusive goods.'

There was a young boy peeking around the corner – frozen of course. One of Isa's many 'exclusive' products.

Picard had always hated coming to this place.

When he reached the door at the end of the corridor, Jean-Luc stopped. His hand hesitated above the access control.

This programme was designed based on scans of Jean-Luc's own memories. He prayed the programme had not been too accurate in replicating the conditions of this room.

Nor the occupant.

Picard was relieved to find she was sitting near the window – thankfully, fully clothed.

He'd never completely gotten over the shock of being sent to relay a message to a covert operations team only to discover the girl he'd met in that Carnelian minefield dancing behind a glass panel.

Firefly.

Jean-Luc ignored her frozen holographic form in the corner and turned to the bookshelf along the wall. It was lined from floor to ceiling with antique paperback books full of cheap, smutty stories.

Nearly all of these titles were nothing more than decorative fodder. Many of the people that worked for Madame Isa had no ability to read.

But Firefly could.

And she was clever enough to know that more often than not she could get away entertaining a lonely Cardassian Gul or overworked Klingon mercenary that way.

She could read to them and bat her eyelashes, killing an hour of time without ever having to get on her knees.

When Data had first informed Captain Picard of their relationship, Jean-Luc had been sceptical. He wondered how well Data truly knew Tasha.

She had known so much trauma and loss that Picard was concerned they couldn't be more mismatched. Like Picard himself, Tasha didn't like to get attached to anyone for fear of facing another loss.

He'd called Tasha to his office for a one on one, practically interrogating her as he tried to drive home the point that an impressionable android was not an appropriate partner for her latest casual romp.

Jean-Luc shuddered now.

In retrospect, he couldn't have been more wrong. And Picard had to remind himself from time to time that it was none of his business what his officers chose to do in their personal lives.

He couldn't be happier for Data and Tasha.

Knowing them as he did, Picard was thrilled that they had found each other.

That the same girl he'd reconnected with on G'kantal – a young woman with nothing to lose and no desire to live – had found that and more.

Jean-Luc physically shook away the thought. He had a mission to complete. Data and Tasha wouldn't get that chance if he didn't get this message out.

Picard picked up a familiar holographic title.

Poems from the Fire Caves.

The extreme nature of blending Bajoran religious symbolism with erotic poetry meant this book was rarely touched.

It had been the prime spot for dead drops during the planning phase of the G'kantal liberation.

"Computer, replace the text starting on page eleven with the following message," Picard began.

-X-

"Alright, the game is Badugi," Tasha said as she reached for the cards.

She shuffled them in a fast, efficient manner before whipping them out like an expert dealer.

"Whoa. New Dealer at the table," Riker teased.

"I didn't know you could deal like that," Geordi remarked.

Tasha bit her lip. She was more than a little embarrassed.

"Well, Data's always so keen to do it," she said with a shrug.

She didn't want to take that from him (and she was nowhere near Data's level of skill and speed).

"Where did you learn to do that?" Deanna asked.

"Maybe I spent a lot of time at the tables in another life," Tasha replied with a coy smile.

Richard grinned as he picked up his hand.

This one is in the bag. He mused.

All of a sudden, a chime sounded. Their ninety minutes were up, and it was time to return to work.

"Let's just finish this hand, eh?" Riker suggested.

Richard chuckled as he set his cards down.

"I think we should get back to the business at hand," he said.

It was like a sign from the universe. And Richard had learned not to ignore such signs.

-X-

Ekloire Starbase | Romulan Space

Sela stepped into her quarters and sighed.

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She could feel a migraine coming on.

Hours spent entertaining the delegates, mind-numbing conversations on grain import, and keeping the Jenolians and the Jovenians straight had left Sela mentally exhausted.

She detached the heavy ceremonial harness that indicated her rank and threw it aside.

"Portunus? Azura?" Sela called out.

She kicked off her boots and waited to hear the familiar pitter patter of her favourite dogs.

Yet instead of being greeted with a friendly bark or lick, Sela found only silence.

"Hello?" she called out.

No one responded.

The lights were dim. The candles that lined every available inch of her desk, walls, and even the floor were lit.

Shadows danced off the wall and ceiling and the pleasant aroma of her bath oil filled the air. Merul, Liran, and Korenus were nowhere to be found.

All the better. Sela mused.

At the moment, she did not wish to see Korenus. For Sela feared that a part of her wanted to pop in his stupid face.

The other half of her wanted to kiss that smart mouth.

Sela figured her father must have sent her staff away to exercise her dogs after ordering them to prepare her bath. He did so often during tense negotiations or following a long trip.

The bath was calling to Sela.

She shrugged off her uniform and threw it behind her changing screen.

"Mmmmm."

Sela froze.

"Don't stop on my account," Korenus said.

Sela whipped around to find him sitting in the corner. She was flabbergasted at his outlandish behaviour. He wasn't just hiding in the dark watching her – he'd opened her very best bottle of Andorian champagne.

"You-"

She stopped herself, overcome with rage.

Korenus smirked and raised his glass to her.

Sela opened her mouth, but Korenus anticipated this.

"Don't bother calling for anyone to have me escorted out. I dismissed your staff for the evening," he said.

Sela's throat went tight. She reached for the blade she kept holstered to her ankle under her trousers. Traditionally, it was the very last thing she took off before stepping into the bath.

For occasions like this.

"So, this was all just a ruse, huh? Get me alone so you can slit my throat while I sleep?" Sela asked.

Sela was furious with herself for ever believing that someone would just waltz into her life and be truly devoted to her like Korenus had been in the last few days.

She kicked herself for ever falling into the trap of such a fantasy when it was obvious he had an ulterior motive.

"Get up," Sela demanded.

"I'd rather enjoy the show," Korenus responded.

Sela glared.

"If you're going to try and kill me, I'd rather just get this done and over with so I can slip into my bath," Sela spat.

She took up a defensive stance.

"I've been dispatching assassins like you since I was a child," Sela threatened.

Korenus poured a second glass of champagne and offered it to Sela.

"It's not poison," he assured her.

Sela said nothing as she tightened the grip on her blade. When she refused to respond, Korenus put down the champagne and raised his hands.

"I'm not here to kill you," he said in a slow, even tone.

"Oh? So, I'm supposed to believe you're just a perverted little voyeur?" Sela scoffed.

Korenus dropped to his knees – a great act of submission and vulnerability for any Romulan.

"I wasn't lying to you when I shared my feelings," Korenus said.

Sela instinctively took a step back. She couldn't accept this.

"Sela," Korenus said as he lifted his eyes.

The grip on her knife remained firm, ready to strike.

"I only acted the way I did today because I would do anything to see you smile," Korenus pleaded. "You work so hard. You never get a moment's peace. I just wanted to make you happy."

"And that's why you sent all the staff away," Sela said with a hefty dose of scepticism.

She wasn't buying his excuse for a moment.

"I wanted to give you something," Korenus said.

He slowly got up, keeping his hands in the air to demonstrate that he meant no ill will.

"A knife in the back?" Sela demanded.

"Never," Korenus promised.

It was the last thing he said before he lunged.

They struggled for a moment. Korenus had greater strength, but Sela had training and speed on her side.

Korenus managed to knock away the blade. Sela scrambled away – landing a powerful blow with her foot directly on his nose.

Korenus caught her ankle. There was nothing to hold onto for leverage. As Sela was half-human she didn't quite have the same strength as her full-blooded Romulan counterparts.

She tried to break his grip, but Korenus was too powerful. Sela found herself pinned under his weight.

Nonetheless, she refused to give up. Sela struggled against him even in spite of their mismatched force.

"I do not want to hurt you," Korenus insisted.

"Really? That's why you've knocked me to the ground?" Sela demanded.

She was truly terrified that the end had come and was trying to hide it.

Korenus laughed.

"My beautiful Commander," Korenus remarked. "Brave unto the end."

Sela flinched as he stroked her hair.

"Shhhh, I'm not going to harm you," Korenus repeated.

Sela's face felt hot. She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't cry in front of Korenus – especially not after the way he'd treated her.

"I dismissed the staff tonight and prepared your bath because I wanted to apologise," Korenus explained.

Sela was ashamed of herself for showing weakness as tears began to stream down her face.

"Sela," Korenus cooed as he pulled her into his arms.

He buried his face against her shoulder as he held her there on the floor.

"You've been up since before first meal reading to prepare. You've got a stack of reports waiting on your desk to go through before tomorrow," Korenus went on.

Sela often put in sixteen, sometimes eighteen hours a day to keep up with the demands of her position.

"You work hard. It's who you are. Who you have to be," Korenus continued, echoing her earlier statement.

He grinned.

"You were that little girl that stayed late to train so you could run faster than your classmates. The one with her nose in a book. Had to prove you were smarter than all the other Romulan children, hmm?" Korenus said.

Korenus was a clever man. He knew how to read people and he knew the type. In that respect, Sela was no different than many of the other aristocratic bastards that were lucky enough to be elevated and legitimised.

They all understood the precarious nature of their position.

Only in Sela's case, her circumstances would be far more dire if she didn't strive for perfection at all times.

"So tonight, I want you to slip into your bath and enjoy a glass of champagne," Korenus explained.

"I have a lot of work to do," Sela said as she brushed away her tears. "I don't have time to jump into bed with you tonight."

Korenus kissed her shoulder.

"Which is why I will read and summarise your reports while you enjoy a bath," he offered.

Sela laughed and shook her head.

"You don't get it, do you? I can't just take a night off," Sela said.

Korenus pulled her hand to his lips.

"I wanted to give you something that you've never had before," Korenus said.

Sela fell silent.

"I wanted to give you a moment alone. Truly alone," he explained.

No staff. No attendants flitting in and out to clean or press her uniform.

No reports.

No responsibilities.

Sela had to admit the offer was tempting. She could hardly believe that she was actually considering his offer.

"If my father ever found out-"

"He won't," Korenus promised.

What Korenus didn't say was that he had already taken steps to ensure Morak was aware and approved of this plan.

-X-

While Sela adjusted to an evening by herself, Korenus retired to Sela's office.

He queued up the computer and set to sorting the incoming reports by priority order. There were sixteen in total. It would be hours to comb through them all in detail – and even longer to summarise them.

Korenus had just started to take notes on the rukesh rot situation in the southern provinces when the door slid open.

A tall, familiar shadow appeared on the desk.

"And you are reconciled?" Morak demanded.

"Permission to speak, my lord?" Korenus asked.

"You may speak freely," Morak responded.

Korenus kept his head low. He had to choose his words carefully.

"Answer me," Morak demanded as he snapped his fingers. "Your place in her bed, is it secure?"

"Yes, my lord," Korenus answered.

Morak breathed a sigh of relief.

"And she remains unaware of our… association?" he pressed.

"Completely," Korenus assured him.

He had Sela exactly where he wanted her.

"Let's hope it stays that way," Morak replied.

He had been most displeased following the fallout between them earlier in the afternoon.

"Perhaps you will come to appreciate her sense of duty and learn from it yourself," Morak remarked. "Because if you embarrass me like that again, I won't take into account how dear you are to my jewel."

Korenus bowed his head low.

"My lord, as you know I seek to regain my position and will do whatever-"

Korenus gasped as Morak's fist closed around his throat. In a flash, Morak had him up against the wall.

"She is the job. Do you understand? Your fortunes are tied to her," Morak warned. "And her fortunes depend on mine."

Morak released him.

"Remember the next time you decide to run your mouth at one of my functions," Morak said.

-X-

Back on the Enterprise, the team on the holodeck hadn't made much progress.

"What about an electromagnetic pulse?" Worf suggested.

Romulan power systems were particularly vulnerable to such technology.

"We could deploy EMP charges in key locations and coordinate their-," Tasha added, building on Worf's stroke of brilliance.

She stopped short of finishing her thought.

Data made a face.

"What?" Tasha pressed.

She knew that face.

"The power requirements to generate a sufficient EMP blast to disable this Starbase far exceed our current level of technology," Data said.

"What if we boost it?" Riker proposed.

If it were possible, Data's expression only became etched more deeply.

"Right," Riker said quickly, voicing the collective sense of disappointment.

Data's brow wrinkled as he studied the schematic. He had temporarily forgone returning to the Romulan ship in an effort to help the team on the holodeck.

Even Data found the task daunting.

An unsettling chill crept into the pit of Data's chest cavity as he studied the schematic. This Starbase was unlike anything they had ever encountered.

It rivalled the legends of the Iconian 'lighthouses' that once guarded their vast empire.

The weight of what they were up against hit Data harder than the rest.

For as he studied this design, his neural net surged – probabilities, calculations for angles of approach and power requirements, scenarios.

Data could envision all of it.

His mind started to spiral as he imagined thousands of ways in which this plan could fail.

Data paused and squeezed his eyes shut. He struggled to slow his processing.

"Data?" Tasha asked softly.

She could sense something was off.

"I am… I am processing," Data managed to choke out.

"Commander, you do not need to figure this out tonight," Tasha urged.

Miles had gone home to speak with Keiko. Worf had dipped out for his evening with Lieutenant Jae and was planning to take a fresh look in the morning. Geordi was in need of sleep. Hell, they all were.

Tasha was worried Data wasn't taking care of himself again.

"Data, it's not all on you. We have a team. You don't have to figure out how to destroy this by yourself," Tasha said.

Data's eyes flew open.

"The problem is not that we do not know how to destroy this," Data said.

Everyone froze.

"Data?" Riker pressed.

A pained expression crossed Data's features.

"I believe I know a way. But it is not something I wish to dwell on - let alone put words to," Data said.

Riker sighed.

He wasn't necessarily frustrated with Data. But there were times when Data's 'golden' sense of morality conflicted with Riker's pragmatism.

"Data, if you know a way to destroy that thing," Riker barked.

He pointed at the holographic representation of the central hub of Ekloire Starbase.

"I don't have to tell you what's coming if we fail," Riker added.

Data scanned the faces of his colleagues.

"Computer, display an interactive holographic starchart for this sector," Data ordered.

He stepped over to the computer near the arch. His hands blurred as he input the appropriate code to provide a digital display simulation of what he had already envisioned in his mind.

The image of Ekloire Starbase disappeared and was replaced by a map of the area based on Federation long-range surveillance.

"This is the Er Nuntius star system," Data said.

The starchart singled in on a highlighted portion of the image.

"We know it," Ghost offered. "It's a relatively stable star system with a G-type main sequence star. There's a handful of populated worlds."

"None of them are warp capable," Richard informed them.

The Romulans had no such notion as the Prime Directive. They did not concern themselves with power imbalances nor disrupting natural development.

They sought only to conquer.

"The Jenolians are an industrial society. Roughly equivalent to Earth toward the end of the Industrial Revolution," Ghost explained.

"We trade with them sometimes," Richard added.

Jenolian technology was limited but they had basic medical supplies and tools.

"That world there, it's home to the Jovenians. At least, that's what the Romulans call them," Richard said as he pointed toward a moderately sized M-class planet.

"Mud huts and blowdarts," Ghost added.

This information did little to ease Data's conscience.

"Both planets are claimed by the Romulans. They deposed any resistance and installed leaders favourable to them," Richard went on.

The Romulans called these people allies – but it was far from the truth.

"They strip mine the natural resources, take agricultural goods as taxes, and use the people as shock troops," Richard shared.

As Data listened to an overview of the system, his thoughts drifted to previous missions on Minos and Velara III.

What Data was proposing would violate the Prime Directive.

More than that, it went against everything he stood for.

"Data?" Riker prompted.

"It will not be possible for us to reach the Starbase without being detected. However, we could reach this system. The odds of being detected are low," Data said.

The others didn't follow.

"And what good does that do us?" Riker asked.

"These people aren't anywhere near a level of technology to oppose the Romulans," Castillo said.

Data was reluctant to answer.

"We could-

He paused.

Data had to remind himself that the cost of what he was about to suggest could not compare to the losses that would be suffered if the Romulans rolled into the Alpha Quadrant.

If they didn't destroy Ekloire Starbase then there would be no Starfleet.

No Federation.

No future.

He briefly caught Tasha's gaze.

No family.

"We could trigger a premature supernova," Data said. "The fallout would be catastrophic – destroying all life in this star system."

The team watched in horror as the visual simulation overtook the planets in question.

"We have to think of Ekloire as a planetoid itself," Data explained.

That's how big and powerful it was.

"The subsequent shock wave would destroy this Starbase," Data said.

His face darkened.

"Along with dozens of populated worlds, millions of lives, and an untold number of species," Data said.

Tasha blinked slowly, too stunned by this suggestion – and unable to accept it had come from Data of all people.

"So, you want to turn a star into a big honkin' space gun?" Richard asked.

Science had never been his forte.

"Technically, this would be a non-targeted discharge. Like a crude grenade," Data answered.

"That could wipe out an entire solar system," Ghost added.

Data locked eyes with Tasha. She had remained silent. Her chest felt tight.

It worried him that she had been so quiet. And the way she was looking at Data made him feel terrible – as if he had let her down.

"Lieutenant?" Data prompted.

Is this who we are now? Tasha pondered.

That was the question she wanted to voice. She wanted to rail that this sort of us versus them narrative only further fuelled the anti-Federation sentiment that the Tal Shiar sold to the Romulan people.

But as she held Data's gaze, Tasha found herself in an uncomfortable position.

Her sense of morality was at odds with her heart.

This was the safe choice.

The choice that would make things like Føroyar and family and nights on the sofa with Data a reality.

An unspoken understanding passed between them.

"It is a bold plan, Commander," Tasha said.

Riker could sense the collective unease.

"I don't like this plan either," Riker acknowledged with a heavy sigh.

Data felt terrible.

"I am sorry, I never should have proposed such a-"

"Stop," Riker ordered. "It's not your fault our situation is so… fucked."

It was rare for Will Riker to use such profanity – especially while on duty.

"Short of finding some miracle big honking space gun, this is the best plan we've got," Riker said.

A look passed between Ghost and Castillo.

"Perhaps we should revisit this in the morning?" Ghost suggested.

Riker shook his head.

"No, if I know Captain Picard he's still up," Riker commented.

Will knew Jean-Luc would need time to weigh the consequences of such an order. He realised they should present it to the Captain as soon as possible.

"Data, how long will it take you to put together a formal proposal?" Riker asked.

Data opened his mouth to speak but never got the chance. He was cut off as Beverly's voice rang out from the communications system.

"Commander Riker? You'll want to get Mr Castillo and Mr Ghost down here right away," Beverly said.

-X-

Richard, Ghost, Verax, and Vil Arandev stood at the foot of Roosevelt's bed.

"He mentioned a sister-," Beverly began to say.

"Gabriella," Castillo interjected.

Roosevelt had spoken of her often. She was much younger – but they were close. In many ways, she was almost like a daughter to him.

"I took the liberty of doing some digging through Federation Records," Beverly said as she passed a tablet to Castillo. "I started in Galveston. She's still there."

Richard glanced down at the tablet in his hands. It was like a roadmap of where to start.

"Thank you," he said as he lifted his eyes to meet Beverly's gaze.

"I'll leave you to it," Beverly said.

She slipped away to join the other officers on the far side of the room.

Commander Riker, Data, and Tasha were huddled in a small circle.

"Why don't you two head down to Data's lab and see what you can put together for the Captain?" Riker suggested.

Riker promised to join them as soon as he was finished in Sickbay.

Beverly cleared her throat.

"I think it's best if you all get some sleep," Beverly said with a knowing look.

"Speak for yourself, Doctor," Tasha replied as she took note of the dark circles under Beverly's eyes.

"We just need to speak with the Captain and then I intend to recommend we all get some rest," Riker explained.

Beverly nodded in understanding.

"I'll join you," she said.

-X-

Picard sat back in his seat and scratched his chin.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Jean-Luc Picard longed to wind back the clock.

"I must admit that I wish I had never heard this suggestion," Picard confessed.

The ensigns of command. Picard thought bitterly.

If they were to employ Data's plan – a brilliant, albeit disturbing plan – there would be no going back. If and when Starfleet ever expelled this Romulan influence then Jean-Luc would be court martialed and likely face life in prison for such a horrifying display of aggression.

And loss of life.

That was what unsettled Picard the most.

Data's estimates placed the number somewhere between twelve and eighteen billion people. It was difficult to tell as information was limited.

He had used the knowledge of Mr Castillo's team to cross reference Federation records. The information was at least thirty years old, so Data had used anatomical information to calculate an estimated birth rate and projected from there.

The order Picard wanted to give was to create a taskforce. They would put their best people on it. They would take their time and have the available resources of Starfleet to come up with a solution.

But they had neither time nor the freedom to use Starfleet's broader resources.

"I will need time to consider this. If Lieutenant Yar's suggestion works, we may have a little more time than I initially anticipated," Picard said.

The Enterprise was slowly moving into position to hide.

"I need to think on this. And I want all of you to think about alternative options," Picard said.

He was desperate for another choice.

"That is our priority," Picard ordered.

Picard's four ranking officers nodded.

"Yes, sir," Riker acknowledged.

Beverly and Tasha agreed to brainstorm possible biological weapon disbursement to target the base only.

"We will get right on," Data promised.

Jean-Luc put up his hand.

"Tomorrow. We have all been on this too long," Picard said.

They needed to be fresh in the morning.

Beverly smiled.

"Thank you, sir," she said.

-X-

When Beverly returned home she was relieved to see the lights were dim.

With all of Wesley's late night projects, Beverly had a habit of keeping a lone standing lamp turned on in the corner near the window.

It provided just enough glow for one to find their away around without having to pull up the lights. It was homey and a trick she had learned from her Grandmother Howard.

There had, after all, been a time when a young Beverly Howard was the one coming home at 03:00 to catch a nap before she was off for another full day of classes and work (and dance).

Beverly slipped out of her boots.

She paused to stretch, suddenly aware of just how sore and tired she was from staying in Sickbay since the rescue.

It was a terrible thing to see Mr Roosevelt go when he had come so close to going home.

But Beverly was relieved for the chance to slip into her bed – appreciating it all the more given how short life could be.

"Mum?"

Wesley poked his head out the door that led to his own room.

She looked more tired than Wesley could remember. He padded across the carpet, and they shared a warm embrace.

"I saved some stew. It's under the stasis field," Wesley said.

Beverly chuckled.

She closed her eyes and squeezed Wes tighter. He was a good kid, and she couldn't imagine what Roosevelt's parents had gone through after his disappearance.

"Mum?" Wesley asked as they stood there.

"Hmmm?" she replied in a hazy voice.

"I just wanted to say that I love you," Wesley said.

Beverly relaxed.

"I love you too," she assured him.

"And if this mission with the Romulans doesn't end well-"

Beverly's blood ran cold.

She cupped back and studied Wesley's face. Her own brow was etched with concern.

"Romulans? Why would you say that-"

"Mum," Wes began.

He shrugged casually to communicate there was no point in trying to hide it from him. It was as if he were no higher than Beverly's knee and asking how it was possible for Santa Claus to travel to all the different children in the galaxy in one night.

"Training exercise wasn't exactly a clever ruse. Coupled with the new people on board and our trip to the Neutral Zone-"

"How do you know about that?" Beverly demanded.

They had been careful. So careful.

Captain Picard had made a public announcement explaining there would be a communication blackout in order to keep the ship safe during a dangerous situation. But there were no further public details.

"Mum, please. I can see what's happening here," Wesley said.

Beverly pulled Wesley in close.

"Do not tell anyone what you know," she whispered.

-X-

Data and Tasha had headed straight back to her quarters.

She wasn't hungry and Data needed a mental break. They had planned to curl up on the sofa and munch on popcorn while enjoying a few chapters of Clown Terror Apocalypse.

But when they were finally home and had kicked off their boots, neither of them had it in them.

Data and Tasha were both silent as they slipped into their pyjamas. It was like they were both afraid to speak because if they did, they would find themselves debating the ethics of destroying a solar system to save the galaxy.

Data had always hated the metaphorical trolley problem.

He'd been reprimanded at the Academy after an endless series of questions during his first year philosophy course.

Why is there no warning system?

Could rescue workers not be dispatched?

What is the speed of the trolley?

This particular trolley was bigger, faster, and more deadly than Data had ever imagined possible. And for the first time in his existence, Data had something to lose.

Tasha tossed her uniform aside. She unlatched her bra and reached for an old grey Academy Aikido shirt.

Data's hand caught her wrist.

Data knew.

Somehow he just knew.

If they didn't stop the Romulans then they would never get that chance at a life together. There would be no commitment, no family.

No growing old together.

His first kiss was nothing more than a soft, tentative peck. It was followed by an easy, slow kiss – the kind where Data hovered close but was still chaste enough that they might as well have been standing in the corridor.

Data took the t-shirt from her hand and let it drop to the floor.

As he nipped at Tasha's neck, he couldn't stop himself from justifying the decision to share his idea on the holodeck.

It was the right choice. Data told himself as his lips travelled over her collarbone.

Tasha slipped off her sleep shorts and climbed onto the bed, her movements like a feline as she backed toward the centre.

Tasha reached for Data, gently pulling him toward her. Not by his hand.

We have to destroy that Starbase no matter the cost. Data thought.

And even as he drove into her, Data's thoughts remained consumed by the threat at hand.

Data resigned himself to defeat when Tasha clutched his back. Her nails raked across his bioplast.

He couldn't lose this. He couldn't lose her.

Data closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Tasha's hairline. It was damp with perspiration.

Whatever it takes. Data vowed.

-X-

Vil Arandev stepped in to discuss final arrangements with Doctor Selar. Before his death, Roosevelt had asked Beverly if it was possible to be transferred home. He wished to be cremated and have his ashes scattered off the pier into the gulf.

My parents always took me there as a kid. And as I grew older, I took my sister there. Roosevelt had said.

He'd spent some of his best days out there sharing cotton candy with his kid sister, racing his best friend on the beach, and trying to impress Elena Morales with various feats of strength and skill at the carnival games.

Roosevelt had shared his first kiss on that pier. He'd spent his summers working on his grandfather's boat catching red snapper and king mackerel within sight of that pier.

And the sunsets? Roosevelt had gone on.

He had travelled all over and never seen anything quite like the way the red and orange hues blazed brilliantly across those waters.

There was no telling how long it would take to return to Earth.

The team suspected that this Doctor Selar knew about the Romulan situation. She was doing an excellent job of dancing around the matter that she couldn't give them a guaranteed date of return.

"We can keep the body in cold storage, or we can handle the cremation here on board," Selar assured them.

She explained they could make arrangements to turn over the ashes to his family or they could make arrangements for a service.

"I'll take them," Castillo said.

He scanned the faces of his colleagues.

"We'll make sure he gets there," Castillo promised.

Roosevelt had travelled this far already. Richard knew Roosevelt wouldn't care if it took weeks or months – he was going home.

"Very well," Doctor Selar responded with a small nod.

Richard was only half listening as Arandev and Selar finalised the matter of Roosevelt's final wishes. His thoughts remained focused on the Romulan situation.

It was now more apparent than ever that this ship and these people couldn't be further from the warship Castillo had set foot on after that temporal displacement in 2344.

This was not that Enterprise and these were not the same war weary officers that had spent the better part of their service fighting a losing battle against the Klingon Empire.

They would never have hesitated, paralysed by ethical concerns for people they had never even heard of before today.

There was another option.

Well, maybe.

But Richard was certain that if anyone was going to figure it out – it would be this team. They astonished him with their brilliance.

And Picard had mentioned they already had some experience with Iconian technology. This was the team that had discovered an Iconian doorway.

Riker's comment about a 'big honking space gun' had nothing on what Richard lay out there.

Ghost studied Richard's expression. He had an inkling of what was weighing so heavily on his comrade. He caught Castillo's eye.

"You made a promise," Ghost reminded him.

Castillo frowned and shook his head.

"I won't ask that of the team," Richard said.

Ghost quirked an eyebrow and glanced back over his shoulder at Roosevelt's bed.

"Look around, Coyote. This is the team. We're all that's left," Ghost said.

"I won't ask that of the team. Not going back there. Not to that place," Richard declared.

Of all the men, Ghost was the one Castillo relied on to challenge him when necessary.

"It would solve the-"

"No," Richard interjected.

"You made a promise," Ghost said.

His tone was much softer. He gave Richard a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

Richard felt much like he had that day on the ship. He was fighting a losing battle, arguing for a side that he knew was the wrong choice but one he couldn't let go of.

For them.

"You don't understand. It's different. You've seen her. She's here. Alive. Happy," Richard argued in a hushed whisper.

Ghost's expression was full of pity.

"She is. And I know there's a part of you that's hoping but-"

He paused.

"Maybe. Who knows. Stranger things have happened. But you can't let that be the reason you hesitate now," Ghost warned.

Richard closed his eyes and sighed.

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "That's not what this is about."

Ghost was under the impression Richard was holding out hope there might be some way to pursue a relationship with the Tasha Yar in this timeline.

As if she would ever give more than a passing glance to him now.

An old man staring hard across a crowded room.

"That's not why I'm-"

He stopped himself.

"What happens if they're captured? Huh? What if I'm responsible for trapping her there?" Richard asked.

Again.

"Then we put it to a vote," Ghost said.

That was how the team had always made decisions. Coyote had become their de facto leader, but he had always run the team like a democracy.

Everyone had a vote – and Richard's vote weighed no more or less than any other man.

Richard knew Ghost was right. He was always right.

"I need to ask you something. And I want to preface this by saying – there's no obligation to volunteer. We've come too far. I hold it against no one that would rather not go back," Richard began.

"Lantera," Ghost said.

Richard nodded slowly.

"Of course," Arandev said, his hand going up without hesitation.

Verax shrugged.

"Why not?" he asked.

There were only four of them left now.

"Then we've got one last mission," Richard announced.