A/N: This chapter covers the events of chapters 44-46 of "The Complication" and will conclude the Data & Tasha holiday storyline.
Once again, many of the events from "The Complication" have been condensed here in order to fit this into one chapter.
Thank you!
On their way back to the cottage, Data and Tasha swung by the village. It was mid afternoon and they both had errands to run.
Data needed to return some of the caving equipment he'd taken out to the pond for a quick peek in the caves.
And Tasha had to pick up a few supplies for a very special dinner.
Data had to stop by the Post Office to fetch the key to Parish Hall storage in order to return the gear.
The bell rang as Data stepped into the Postal Office. Oswalt was sorting letters in the boxes on the wall from a large sack of mail.
"How'd it go?" he asked as he stuffed a sack of letters into one of the boxes.
"It is a visually stunning cave system," Data replied.
"Henry!" Oswalt called out.
The young boy came springing down the stairs a moment later and flashed Data a big, toothy grin as soon as he spotted the android.
"Aye, pop?" Henry asked.
"Can you take Mr Data to the Parish Hall and help him put away the gear?" Oswalt asked.
"Yes, sir," Henry replied eagerly with a little salute.
Henry talked the entire way to the parish hall. It seemed that news of Doctor Applewhite's mysterious death was all that anyone in town could talk about.
And according to Henry, everyone had their own theories about what happened – including the children.
"Bertie thinks it's a werewolf, but it wasn't even a full moon," Henry explained as he tugged open the heavy oak doors to the parish hall building.
"That is highly unlikely," Data said, choosing his words carefully.
"Well, I think he was leading a double life," Henry surmised aloud. "You know. Shady dealings and what not. Seedy business associates."
Data's ears perked up.
Try as he may to push thoughts of the mystery from his mind, Data simply couldn't stop thinking about it.
"Why do you believe that?" Data inquired.
Data knew that children often picked up on things that adults overlooked, and it was possible that Henry had seen or heard something that could provide a clue.
To Data's dismay, Henry shrugged casually.
"Dunno, I guess," Henry said.
They began to put away their caving gear. Henry hung up the rope as Data cleaned the lantern.
"Do you have any evidence to support such a hypothesis?" Data asked.
Henry shook his head.
"Nah, I suppose not," Henry admitted. "Just seems the type."
"What makes you say that?" Data pressed.
"He was so normal," Henry explained. "It's always the normal ones in the stories, you know? The ones you don't expect."
Data concluded that Henry's theory was likely not practical or based on any facts. Rather, it seemed to be the invention of an imaginative child.
"What do you think happened?" Henry asked. "I heard you were the one that said he got knocked off."
Data's eyebrows went up as he weighed the question.
"I do not know," Data answered honestly. "It would not be appropriate for me to investigate the matter."
Henry put his hands on his hips and frowned.
"We're not investigating," he protested. "We're just having a chinwag. Man to man."
"You are nine," Data commented.
"Nine and half," Henry corrected with an air of superiority that seemed far beyond his years.
Data hadn't meant to insult the boy. But he didn't want to speculate as to the details of Doctor Applewhite's death with an impressionable child.
"C'mon then," Henry pressed. "You have to have some theory. What do you think Sherlock Holmes would do?"
Data decided it couldn't hurt to indulge the boy a little.
"If I were Sherlock Holmes, I would start by finding out what Doctor Applewhite was doing in the cave yesterday before his death," Data answered.
Tasha hadn't just made dinner for Data – she'd patiently shown him every step of the process.
They had cleaned and prepared the eel together. Tasha demonstrated how to salt and remove the slime before skinning it according to how she'd learned growing up.
Once that was seen to, Tasha had set to cleaning and salting the trout she'd caught at the pond. Using some large field rocks, Data helped her balance an open-ended barrel on the top. They strung up the trout and then placed a lid on the top.
Tasha stuffed sawdust at the bottom to serve as a makeshift floo.
Data watched in awe as she expertly started a small fire outside of the barrel. Tasha moved the kindling inside as soon as it got going.
She knelt down close to the opening and blew on the sawdust to get the fire to take.
Starting a fire was something every Starfleet cadet learned during their first-year survival training. But Data recognised theoretical knowledge had nothing on practical experience. He'd seen countless Starfleet personnel struggle and bemoan their frustration in training and on away missions
"Marvellous," Data remarked softly.
Tasha looked up from her work and flashed him a smile.
"I'm sure you could have done it in half the time," Tasha said.
"I mean it. You are incredible. All your knowledge of things that most humans have forgotten," Data said.
"Ready to have the best meal you've eaten in ages?" Tasha asked as she sat back on her knees.
"Here," Tasha said, feeding Data a forkful of eel.
It had a clean, subtle flavour with a hint of sweetness.
Data could understand why Tasha had been keen to get her hands on one during their trip. It had been worth the hassle of making the eel buck and waiting.
And while Data wasn't ready to eschew replicators, he could understand why humans felt that real food was still a preferred treat.
Counsellor Troi often lamented that her replicated chocolate sundaes just weren't the same.
Data knew that humans shouldn't consume high levels of fat. But as he chewed on the succulent, high-fat content eel, Data had a whole new appreciation for whyDeanna preferred 'real' chocolate sundaes.
And it wasn't merely the savoury taste that left Data appreciative of this experience.
Tasha had chosen to share this with him. It was quite a prize and limited in quantity. This was the first time she'd eaten the real delicacy in years.
It would likely be even longer before Tasha got the chance to have it again.
More than anything, she wanted to share that with Data.
This trip was about them.
For them.
Togetherness.
Tasha reached across the table for his hand.
"I thought maybe later we could head out to the hill past the orchard? We could take a blanket or two and stargaze?" Tasha suggested.
The corner of Data's mouth curved upward.
"I would like that," Data answered.
He was suddenly struck by an idea.
"How do you say 'star' in Turkanan?" Data inquired.
"Rionnag," Tasha answered.
"Rionnag," Data repeated.
Tasha nodded as she took another bite of her meal.
"What about the moon?" Data asked.
"Ileaudis the moon and iluca galad means moonlight," Tasha said.
Data repeated the words back as he added them to his informational databank on Turkana.
"And the sun?" Data pressed.
Tasha folded her hands and looked away for a moment.
"Do you remember me telling you about Azura?" Tasha inquired.
Data nodded.
It had been months earlier during their last encounter with the Q before their hearing. The Enterprise had responded to an emergency hail from a mining colony.
The ship had arrived too late to save the majority of the people. The colony had been devastated and Data was horrified to discover a young girl that was a victim of the disaster.
Data had been heavily impacted by her death. Unsure of how to comfort him, Tasha had fallen back on Turkanan tradition – leaving the child under the light of the moon with a prayer to the ancient Turkanan deity that was supposed to protect the lives of those who died too young.
Data knew there were a series of deities that Tasha referred to as the 'old gods.' It was an ancient Turkanan religion that the two main Turkanan factions engaged in the civil war had sought to stamp out.
"According to Turkana tradition, Seridia is the goddess of the sun. She is Azura's sister," Tasha explained. "We call the sun seren. And while Azura protects her people, Seridia is vengeful to those who would do them harm."
Data listened intently, recording each new tidbit of information eagerly. It was so rare for Tasha to feel comfortable opening up about her culture.
"And Seridia has two children. Rorik, her son, who brings the storms and thunder," Tasha continued. "And a daughter that brings the sunshine and warm air."
She paused to take a sip of her tea.
"It was my grandmother's name," Tasha said strangely.
She was lost in her own memories.
"What was?" Data inquired.
"Sela," Tasha shared. "It means sunshine."
Tasha smiled as she reminisced. Her grandmother had died young – Tasha was only a child. But their time together were some of the only good memories Tasha had from her homeworld.
"You miss her," Data observed.
"Yeah… yeah I do," Tasha replied.
She dropped her gaze to her lap in favour of picking at her nails – a habit she did whenever she was nervous.
"Tasha?" Data prompted.
Her shoulders slumped. Tasha lifted her gaze to meet Data's eyes. Her brow was furrowed like she was deep in the midst of a disturbing thought.
"You know she wasn't much older than we are?" Tasha remarked. "Thirty-four."
"Thirty-four?" Data inquired.
Tasha's face darkened.
"She died at thirty-four," Tasha explained.
Data was visibly disturbed by this information.
"I am aware that human lifespans are much shorter than many other species, but that seems extraordinarily young to have sired offspring that, in turn, also had children," Data said.
He was having a hard time wrapping his brain around it.
"Yeah. My mother was just a child – like her mother before her," Tasha said with a twinge of bitterness.
The very thought was foul.
Tasha's mother and grandmother had died within hours of one another.
And they had both been so young.
"Tasha? Is that typical for your people?" Data asked.
Tasha wasn't sure how to answer. She didn't know where to begin or how to even put words to the complexity of the political landscape and social structure that was left in the wake of the Federation's failed attempt to colonise and tame Turkana and her native people.
"It's complicated," Tasha replied.
They had wandered into a sensitive subject – one Tasha wasn't keen to discuss.
"Let's talk about something else. This is supposed to be our holiday," Tasha said in an effort to change the subject.
"May we prepare the pie now?" Data asked eagerly.
"I thought you'd never ask," Tasha teased.
They cleared away the dishes and then cleaned the surface of the table. Tasha grabbed the basket of pears they had picked with the children.
"About this size," Tasha said as she held up a piece to show Data the proper size slices they would need.
Data nodded.
He grabbed one of the knives and gripped the edge of the pear on top of his cutting block. He made quick work of slicing through three-quarters of the fruit in less than a second before he abruptly stopped.
Data could tell from the piece she had displayed that she wanted them cut to precisely 4.2 millimetres.
However, Data's sensory input detectors in his hand could feel that the pear he held could not be evenly distributed into slices of 4.2 millimetres. There would be 1.81 millimetres left over.
Tasha could see he had paused.
"Everything alright?" she asked, looking up at him from across the table.
"It is not possible to cut these pieces of fruit into 4.2 millimetres pieces without having waste," Data replied. "What should I do with the remainder?"
Tasha kicked herself internally.
She realised she probably should have explained that the example she'd shown wasn't meant to be replicated precisely. Tasha knew that word choice was something she had to be careful about with Data – he would very well follow her instructions to the letter, even when she hadn't meant them to be taken thatliterally.
"I'm sorry," she confessed with a small laugh. "I didn't mean to imply that you needed to be so precise with the size. Just slice them around that size."
Data nodded and looked back down at the remaining piece of fruit in his hand. He calculated the remaining size and computed several possible options to slice the fruit.
Tasha could see him thinking carefully.
Data contemplated whether it would be better to cut the pieces slightly larger or smaller. He accessed his information database and scanned through thousands of available references on culinary arts, the water content of the fruit, and how it would interact with the other ingredients – most notably how the sugars would break down.
Were he to slice them too thin, they would break down and turn to mush. On the other hand, sliced too thick and the fruit would fail to achieve the proper texture necessary for such a culinary delight.
Data realised he had no frame of reference on which to base his decision. He had never consumed this kind of fruit pie before and wasn't sure which option would be preferable.
He opened his mouth and looked up to ask Tasha's opinion to find she was gone.
A second later, he froze as he felt her behind him.
Tasha put one hand on top of his over the knife and covered his other hand holding the remaining fruit.
"Some people claim that precision is the secret to good baking," Tasha said as she guided the knife to slice the pear.
Once it was sliced, Tasha slid it aside and reached for another piece. Data let her guide his hands as they cut the second pear.
"But I think it's more just a matter of heart," Tasha went on. "Especially when it's for someone. You know, making their day a little sweeter?
It was an odd experience for Data to perform a task with no precision. It reminded him of experimenting with music and art. The sensation was liberating.
Once they were done slicing, Tasha swept all of the pears into a large clay bowl and set them aside. Next, she grabbed the supplies she had picked up from the general store. Tasha unwrapped wax paper to reveal a small block of a white, creamy substance. It looked almost like ice cream, but the texture was slightly different.
She dropped it into the bowl and then retrieved a slab of butter from the ice box and cut off a bit, setting it on the cutting block. Tasha returned the remaining contents to the ice box and then turned back to Data.
"Can you please cut that into wee cubes?" Tasha asked.
As Data cut the butter into tiny cubes, Tasha fetched some flour from the sack in the pantry.
"Now, we're going to need to make this quick," Tasha prefaced. "Otherwise, our hands will start to melt the butter and we don't want that."
They added the butter and Tasha tossed in a few cups of the flour.
"Now, we just need a pinch of salt," she informed him.
Tasha held out the salt dish for Data.
"Accessing, 'a pinch'," Data said aloud as he searched his memory banks for information on the unit of measurement known as 'a pinch.'
Tasha grinned.
She pinched her fingers in the salt and threw it into the dish.
"Ah, I see," Data remarked.
He was intrigued by the process. While it may have seemed normal for humans, to an android it was a nearly chaotic process given Tasha's seemingly careless regard for accuracy in measurement.
It was thrilling.
"We're going to cut the fat in with our hands," she explained. "Like this."
Tasha showed him how to work the ingredients together. After a few seconds, she pulled her hands back and looked up at Data. Wordlessly, she encouraged him to give it a try.
Data reached into the bowl and squeezed the fat and flour together, working rapidly to blend them into a crumbly mixture.
"Perfect," Tasha said.
She grabbed a tiny bit of cold water from her canteen and poured in just a bit.
"You do not measure it?" Data inquired.
Tasha shook her head.
"You want to add it just a bit at a time until it reaches the proper consistency," Tasha said.
Tasha couldn't help but grin as she watched him. She knew that Data could likely scan thousands of instructional documents on baking in a matter of seconds. His android precision and attention to detail would mean he could probably produce the universe's best pie in half the time.
But he wanted her to show him how she made it simply because it was her method, because it was something she was excited about.
Tasha didn't think she'd ever be able to wrap her around just why Data loved her – especially given that she lacked most of the standard experiences of their other human colleagues.
Tasha was suddenly struck by an idea.
Perhaps that was why they'd hit it off?
In the grand scheme of the universe, it hadn't been all that long ago when Tasha herself had been forced into the unknown – having to adapt to a new way of life and essentially 'unlearning' so many of the behaviours and survival instincts she had developed on Turkana.
She knew exactly how it felt not to understand the cultural references of her peers, to miss the joke entirely, and the awkwardness of taking unfamiliar idioms literally.
While that was certainly a part of what had drawn Data to Tasha, she really couldn't begin to comprehend just how impactful her companionship was.
Even before their friendship blossomed into a relationship, her constant, patient presence had so enriched his existence that Data considered her his closest friend next to Geordi.
She had noticed his subtle reactions and recognised that they weren't just programming. Tasha had always been there to explain the meaning of a phrase or the reaction of another person without judgement or mockery.
Tasha had never dismissed his requests to learn by telling him to 'access his memory banks' or 'you'll learn in good time.' While Data could certainly learn anything in that manner – better and faster than humans – there was a connection he felt when learning from another being whether it be music, engineering, or even food preparation.
From across the table, Data and Tasha met one another's eyes and smiled at each other.
Once their dough had reached the correct texture, Tasha demonstrated how to shape it into a ball. She covered the bowl and then set it in the icebox.
"We need to let it chill," she explained.
Tasha captured Data's hands with a wet rag and cleaned away the pastry dough and grease from the fat that was stuck to his fingers.
"Now then, time to see to these pears," she said.
Pulling their bowl of sliced fruit back front and centre, Tasha walked Data through the various spices they were going to add.
Having mixed the cinnamon, mace, sugar, and cardamom into the pie, Data could detect a distinct, pleasant scent as they blended together.
"Close your eyes and open your mouth," Tasha said.
Data did as instructed. Tasha popped one of the seasoned pieces of raw fruit on it.
"Hmm," Data said as he analysed the combination of spice and sweet as it mingled on his tongue.
"This is not an efficient method for preparing food," Data said before grinning and adding, "but it is pleasing."
"Now, try this one," Tasha said.
Data frowned.
"Tasha, this is the same-" Data began.
He stopped as she pressed her lips against his, enjoying the subtle taste of cinnamon and sugar that lingered on his lips.
She pulled away after a moment, backing toward the ice box as she maintained his gaze.
"I liked that one better," Data whispered.
Before she could move away, Data stole another kiss.
"Everything tastes better on you," Data said.
Tasha held his gaze as she backed away toward the ice back, grinning and licking her lips.
After fetching the chilled dough, they rolled out the crust.
"And now, we bake it and wait," Tasha said.
She picked it up off the table and opened the door to the oven.
Tasha stopped.
She turned back to look at Data and bit her lip.
"I forgot to heat the oven," Tasha confessed, feeling utterly foolish.
Tasha shook her head, set the pie down on the table, and then threw a damp cloth over the top while they waited. She told Data that she'd get right on it and, once it was hot, it would only take another hour and half to bake and then cool to a warm temperature that she called 'primo' for consumption.
She broke down in a fit of laughter and dropped her forehead against Data's torso.
"I can't believe I forgot that part," Tasha giggled.
"Perhaps it is for the best?" Data suggested.
Tasha didn't follow.
Data took hold of her hands and brought them to his lips.
"I think the idea of dessert in an hour and half sounds rather appealing," Data said.
Tasha's mouth formed a silent 'oh' as she caught his meaning.
Data set Tasha down on the surface of the table. She threw her jacket off and tossed into the corner of the room. Her cap followed it in short order.
She wrapped her legs around Data's waist and pulled him close. He closed his eyes and sighed as Tasha ran her fingers back through his hair.
"May I take my time now?" Data whispered as he nibbled at her jawline.
"As long as you want," Tasha replied.
"I must confess I am faced with a dilemma," Data said.
Tasha grinned and braced herself for one of Data's unexpected info dumps. She didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, she found it rather endearing.
"I long to strip this away," Data said, kneading her left breast through her shirt. "But I find it is… attractive."
Tasha sat back and eyed Data with suspicion.
He reached up to caress her cheek.
"You look quite fetching," he said.
Tasha scoffed and laughed.
"I look like a chimney sweep from one of your stories," Tasha exclaimed. "I didn't think Oliver Twist was quite your type."
As costumes were required, Tasha had gone to great lengths. She wanted to comply with the rules of the preserve and provide Data with a real experience.
She'd even gone so far as to consult Guinan.
Data's clothes were all handmade by Guinan's tailor, Garak. Tasha had settled for using the replicator to fashion something acceptable but hardly the same quality.
And while Data's costumes featured fine silk brocade waistcoats and tailored tweed, Tasha was all practical wool and muted colours.
Tasha thought Data looked devilishly handsome. He was born to wear a fine fitted suit. With his slick hair and hat, he looked like a proper gentleman straight from the pages of Dickens.
On the other hand, Tasha hadn't been kidding when she said she thought she resembled a newsie or chimney sweep – right down to the soot on her face from trying to get the fire going earlier.
She'd always had an athletic figure. And in her trousers and ivy cap, she didn't think there was much hint of femininity.
But Data knew better. He knew every curve of her body and he liked the way her waistcoat framed her figure.
"I like this," Data said, reaching for her suspenders. "I like peeling them away, revealing what lies underneath."
He unfastened the first few buttons on her shirt so as to expose just enough of her shoulder for his lips.
"I like the way your hair is always tousled after you remove your cap," Data went on.
He rocked against her, rolling his hips just to tease.
"I also find I am rather fond of the way your arse looks in these trousers," Data said.
Tasha giggled.
"You'd like it if I wore a potato sack," Tasha said with an eyeroll.
"Mmm, do not give me ideas," Data replied.
Tasha gripped his tie and pulled Data close.
"I like this," she said.
Data's system surged as she slid her hands over his tie, tugging on it a little harder than necessary to drive home her point.
"And I like the way you wear it," Tasha went on.
She ran her hands over his chest, smoothing the fabric there in appreciation of the musculature of his lean frame.
The oven remained cold. The pie sat entirely forgotten on the opposite end of the table.
"But I don't like all these stupid buttons standing in my way," she growled.
Tasha fumbled with the buttons on his waistcoat.
Frustrated with the buttons, Tasha took hold of his collar and pulled him down toward the table.
Her hands found the clasp of his trousers. She palmed his erection for a moment, holding Data's gaze. He was hard.
Data ached for her touch. He loved feeling small and safe in Tasha's care.
Suddenly, there was a loud, frantic pounding at the door.
Data and Tasha froze.
Whoever was trying to reach them seemed desperate.
Tasha scrambled to get up. In her haste, her knee collided with Data in what would have been a particularly sensitive region for anyone else. While this of course had no painful effect for Data, Tasha howled and clutched her kneecap.
Data glanced down. There had been an unpleasant pressure – but certainly no damage or pain.
"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.
"The door," Tasha replied as she furiously rubbed her knee in hopes of alleviating the pain.
Data nodded and raced over to the door. It was the postman.
"Sorry to bother you but-" Oswalt began to say as he took his cap off.
His voice was urgent, but he trailed off as he took in the sight of Data.
Data's hair was dishevelled. His waistcoat was half undone and askew. Data was clutching the front of his trousers to keep them up.
"I am terriblysorry to have disturbed you, sir," Oswalt said.
The Postmaster turned his head away to the side in effort to afford his guest some modesty.
"Henry, my son, is missing," Oswalt explained. "I thought he might have wandered out here seein' as how fond he is of you."
Oswalt cleared his throat uncomfortably, bouncing back and forth on his feet as he turned his cap over in his hands.
"Obviously he's not so I'll just move along," Oswalt said. "Again, I am so sorry for this."
"It is no bother," Data assured him. "We could help you search the-"
"OSWALT!" a voice called out from the road.
Oswalt turned to see a man on horseback riding toward the farm.
"They're all gone! The lot of them!" the man called out.
He slowed his horse but rode right up to them, stopping just shy of the door to the farm.
The man was the father of two of the other village children – Bertie and wee George.
Apparently, all six of the village's young children were missing.
Worst of all, it was starting to get dark.
"We will help you search the area," Data said as he buttoned his trousers..
"We don't want to bother you," Oswalt said.
"Nonsense," Tasha said as she pulled open the door and stepped outside.
She was immediately hit with a wave of unseasonably warm, muggy air. Tasha glanced off toward the horizon.
"There's a storm coming," she announced as she observed the rapidly approaching dark sky.
Data and Tasha were trained in search and rescue operations. With the approaching storm and darkness, they knew it was necessary to find the children as soon as possible.
Once the storm swept through, the temperature would drop.
The children could be stranded, lost, or turned around and heading the wrong direction. The storm would only make the situation worse.
"You can get lost out here for good if you're caught in a storm," Oswalt advised.
While the parents set off in one direction, Data and Tasha snagged a length of rope, a lantern, and the extra pears.
"If they're scared, it might help to calm them down with a snack," Tasha advised.
"That is wise," Data replied.
A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky in the distance. It was followed by an ominous crack of thunder.
Tasha could smell the rain already as it approached. Normally, she didn't mind storms on the holodeck. In fact, she had always enjoyed them on Turkana. Storms usually meant there was a break in the fighting. Clans didn't travel or raid during storms usually and it was a welcome reprieve.
"I wonder where they got off to," Tasha said.
"This preserve is quite large. Theoretically, they could be anywhere," Data replied. "The last time I saw young Henry was when we were in town earlier. That was three hours ago. Based on the dimensions of the area and the average speed of a humanoid child, he could have travelled a total of-"
Data simultaneously stopped walking and talking.
"What is it?" Tasha asked.
"I believe I know where the children may have gone," Data said. "And I believe it is my fault."
"Hope we're not late," Beverly called out as she stepped inside Commander Riker's hotel suite.
Wesley was right behind her with a bag of goodies from his tour of the Academy.
Halfway across the world, Commander Riker was hosting a poker game. His plan to spend shore leave on a fishing trip had gone awry thanks to the weather.
Geordi's own holiday plans had been cancelled at the last minute. He'd been expecting to meet up with his father and sister in Greece, only for both of them to be recalled to duty on short notice.
And after Lwaxana Troi checked into the exact same spa as Deanna - Deanna had promptly checked out.
"What do you think everyone's up to right now?" Will asked as he dealt the cards.
Beverly poured the drinks and Geordi dished up the popcorn.
"I spoke with Captain Picard this morning," Beverly explained. "He's enjoying his trip. He's had a lot of time to ride and read."
"Good for him," Deanna said with a smile.
It was a rare treat for the Captain to get any time to himself.
"Well, that sounds better than Miles and Keiko's trip," Geordi said.
He'd chatted with Miles just a few hours earlier. They were splitting their time between Finglas, Ireland and Kumamoto, Japan in an effort to announce their engagement in-person to both their families.
"They made it to Finglas alright," Geordi explained. "But their luggage got beamed to a lunar transport ship."
"Ouch," Riker replied, hissing through his teeth.
"Worf seems to be enjoying himself," Deanna offered. "We spoke this morning. I think it's good he's spending some time back home."
In spite of his lone warrior façade, Worf had a tender heart. He was close with his Babushka. And the opportunity to spend five whole days with her was too good to pass up.
"Anyone heard from Data and T?" Riker asked as he glanced around the table.
No one answered.
"Not a peep," Geordi said after a brief pause.
The team still had no inkling of where the couple had jetted off to for leave.
"They were already gone early the first morning," Geordi went on. "I can't imagine what they're up to."
"I'll bet they're relaxing in some private mountain chateau jacuzzi sipping on champagne," Will Riker surmised. "Tucked away all cosy and romantic."
"I think they went somewhere fun," Wesley suggested.
"You don't think a jacuzzi and champagne is fun?" Riker teased.
"No," Wesley answered honestly.
"Not yet, anyways," Riker winked.
He shot a knowing look over to Deanna and wiggled his eyebrows.
Deanna grinned and rolled her eyes.
"I mean like mountain climbing or backpacking," Wesley explained. "You know, the kind of thing they like to do on the holodeck."
Beverly rested her head on her hand as she stared off at the wall, lost in a memory.
"I'll bet there on some white sand beach somewhere. Little frozen drinks," Beverly said with a wistful gleam in her eye. "Miles of crystal blue water and endless starry skies."
"Soaking in the sun," Geordi sighed.
"Anywhere but here," Beverly said as she glanced out the window at the dreary San Francisco sky.
"It is still raining," Data commented as he looked up.
They were deep inside the central cavern of the cave. But Data could tell the storm was still raging above. The cavern was a straight shot to the surface. It was at least fifty metres and not something any of them wanted to climb.
On a hunch, Data and Tasha had raced for the cave to look for the missing children.
They'd barely made it to the pond when rain began to barrel down. It was a downpour. By the time they reached the cave, Data and Tasha were completely drenched.
Data's deductive reasoning skills had proven correct.
After a little coaxing and the offer of a snack, the children had eventually agreed to come out of their hiding place.
Now they were all hunkered down together. It was all they could do to keep warm.
"Well, one way or another, I think we're stuck here until this blows over," Tasha said.
After pushing, poking, prodding, and more than a few whines, it seemed that both tempers and the children had finally settled.
Tasha froze as she felt George blow his nose on her waistcoat.
"All set?" Tasha asked as she glanced down at Georgie.
He nodded and then resumed wiping snot all over her soaked waistcoat. She was about to ask him to stop when he looked up again and she realised he was crying.
Tasha said nothing, simply rubbing his back as he cried it out. She knew it was scary. At the very least, she could provide him with a shoulder – or in this case a hip – to cry on.
It didn't take long for the children to doze off.
"I'm sorry this probably isn't how you thought you'd be spending shore leave," Tasha whispered.
"Given who we are, I have come to accept that our lives will always be chaotic," Data remarked. "But like your baking, I believe that adds a distinct flavour."
Tasha grinned.
All of a sudden, her face blanched.
"The oven," she whispered, concerned.
"You did not light it," Data assured her. "We were otherwise occupied."
An uncertain look crossed Tasha's face.
"You're sure?" she pressed.
Data shot her a look that she had long ago learned was meant to reaffirm that he had perfect memory.
"I should have brought more snacks," Tasha lamented.
It was freezing.
"I might die down here," Tasha teased. "Wet. Cold. And no bloody snacks."
She turned and met Data's eyes.
"But I'm glad you're here," she confessed with a warm smile.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
As they gazed at one another, Data was overcome with a strange, warm feeling.
"No," he said as he studied her face.
"You're not happy you're here?" Tasha asked. "Stuck in a cave with me and six kiddos?"
"No. I mean you will not die here," Data replied.
Tasha chuckled softly.
"I know that," she said.
Their evening was uncomfortable, but certainly not deadly.
"You will die in my bed," Data said softly. "After a full life. Many, many, manyyears from now."
It was eerie the way he was staring at her.
Data wasn't sure what had prompted him to say such a thing. He could only describe it as a 'feeling.'
Tasha's throat grew tight. Her face flushed and she averted her eyes, suddenly feeling overcome with embarrassment.
Tasha had never expected to make it off Turkana. In fact, there were a lot of scenarios she'd had never expected to walk out of – and an alarming number of those had been with Data at her side.
While Tasha may have shared Worf's passion for a warrior lifestyle of discipline, she had no desire to share in his dream of dying in action. And although she had an alarming passion for thrill seeking adventure hobbies, Tasha didn't want to go out like that.
No, she rather liked the idea of passing peacefully in a warm, comfortable bed.
"This is going to sound strange," Tasha replied in a voice barely above a whisper. "I think that in the grand scheme of ways one can die in the universe, dying in your bed sounds quite lovely."
They were separated by a pile of tiny, sleeping bodies.
So instead of a kiss, they settled for sharing a fond smile.
"I love you," Data whispered.
As soon as the storm cleared, Data and Tasha headed back for the farm. It was early and the sun was not yet up.
After giving the children a proper meal, Data made the trek to the village. He returned not long after with the children's families in tow.
Upon collecting their wayward little ones, the villagers were in awe of Data.
They hadn't been impressed with this synthetic lifeform at first. Data represented everything they had rejected.
And in the end, he was their hero.
On the final full day of their holiday, Tasha had a special surprise in store for Data.
He waited patiently downstairs in the kitchen while Tasha dressed for the day.
Data was thrilled about the prospect of what waited in store. Yet at the same time, he didn't want to know.
Because knowing meant one step closer to the end of their holiday.
They would have to go back to the Enterprise.
Back to reality.
Data and Tasha's relationship was no longer a secret. The formal hearing on Starbase 118 had seen to that.
But in spite of the very public nature of their relationship, Data and Tasha sought to maintain strict professional boundaries while on the Enterprise.
Even in Ten Forward, Data and Tasha were mindful of their behaviour. That meant keeping a distance even in their off hours.
Their relationship was largely relegated to their personal quarters.
In some ways, it was stifling.
This holiday offered them a chance to enjoy the little things like a handheld stroll without the fear of rumour or reprisal.
Data was going to miss that.
Upstairs, Tasha was just finishing getting ready. Taking another look in the mirror, she exhaled and steadied her nerves.
Tasha was grateful her cycle was finished.
Small miracles.
It was always unpredictable – but at least it was typically short.
No other way I'd be wearing this getup. Tasha mused as she took one final spin in front of the mirror.
Tasha instinctively clutched her abdomen. She tried to take a deep breath and could feel the pinch of her corset.
"No wonder these fell out of fashion," Tasha remarked with a frown.
According to Guinan, they were all the rage at one time. Tasha was of the opinion that history could keep them. There was no breathing room – literally and figuratively.
Though as she ran her hands down over her hips Tasha was pleasantly surprised to find she had curves in places that didn't exist before.
Tasha felt lovely and soft and feminine in a way she often didn't get to enjoy.
She grinned to herself as she slipped on a pair of lacey gloves that were borrowed from Guinan's wardrobe. Apparently she'd worn them to something called a 'Carnegie Hall' for a night out with Nikola Tesla.
Apparently he didn't sleep much either and they'd really hit it off back in the day.
You sort of had to be there. Guinan had said with a wink.
In the very least, Tasha could give Data a small taste of what that era was like.
She glanced over at Data's sketchbook in the corner of the room.
Tasha hadn't given him any hints about their destination, so he had no inkling what they were in store to see. She didn't know if Data would even want to sketch but figured it couldn't hurt to suggest bringing it.
After all, she would rather have to haul it around all day than have him regret not bringing it along for the ride.
Tasha picked up the book and grabbed a leather pouch that housed his charcoal pencils.
She flipped open the sketchbook and found the image of the kingfisher he had worked on the day before at the pond.
It was truly astounding how talented he was. And Tasha knew it wasn't just because of his android abilities.
In her eyes, Data had a real talent and passion for the arts. She loved to view his work – even if he was incredibly critical of his own work.
Flipping the page, Tasha grinned as she saw the landscape portrait he'd drawn of the pond area. He'd truly captured the beauty of the scenery. As she stared at the still water, she wondered if Data would consider displaying this one in his quarters as a reminder of such a perfect day.
Tasha flipped to the next page and stopped.
She sat down on the edge of the bed as she studied the sketch.
It was a drawing of her.
Data had asked for permission to paint her before, and Tasha had always declined. She didn't feel comfortable with the idea of someone stumbling upon a painting of her in Data's storage.
Truth be told, she'd never much felt like something worth looking at.
Not that any of that mattered to Data.
As she stared back at the smiling face on the paper, she couldn't find it in herself to be mad at him.
It really was a perfect likeness and she surmised he must have sketched it when she'd dozed off.
Tasha closed the sketchbook and sighed.
When he had initially asked about painting her, Tasha had questioned his motive for doing so. Data's response had always been the same.
You are special to me.
She may not have been entirely comfortable with the idea of it. However, Tasha understood that Data would never share this image with anyone.
It certainly wasn't scandalous – not with her ivy cap, loose trousers, and suspenders.
And unless someone knew her personally, it could really be a sketch of anyone.
Yet that was irrelevant.
It mattered to Data and Data alone.
A moment in time that he had wanted to commit to memory as something more than just an engram. Data had wanted a physical reminder of that moment in time.
He's such a softie.Tasha mused to herself as she headed down the ladder.
The sharp intake of breath from Data was all the boost of confidence Tasha needed.
"All set?" Tasha asked.
Data dropped his books.
Tasha bit her lip and glanced down at herself, swaying a little to make her skirt swing.
Data was at a loss for words.
She was wearing a dress.
Not just any dress – a bustle dress to be precise.
A rather fetching bustle dress.
Data's mouth went dry. His trousers were suddenly uncomfortably tight.
Data frowned.
"Why are you wearing this?" Data demanded.
It took a moment for Data's question to fully register.
Tasha's heart sank and she did her best not to display any outward signs of disappointment. She reminded herself that Data's reactions didn't always come across as intended.
She glanced down at her dress and tried to identify the problem.
"Am I wearing it incorrectly?"
Tasha thought she'd put everything on according to Guinan's instructions.
She spun around in place and looked to him for an answer.
Data was the historical expert. It had taken Tasha nearly ninety minutes to figure out how all the parts and pieces had fit together.
Tasha twisted her body and started to fuss with her bustle.
Data reached out to stop her.
"You have expressed a specific dislike for such garments," Data reminded her.
"Yeah, for mucking about around the farm," Tasha replied as she motioned vaguely to the kitchen.
Data's expression didn't change.
His brow was still wrinkled as he looked her up and down.
"You don't like it," Tasha said with a hint of disappointment.
It wasn't a question but rather a statement of fact.
Tasha didn't feel like she needed his approval – she was going to wear it one way or another. But she'd been hoping he would enjoy getting dressed to the nines and spending the day out of their element.
"Not if you are wearing it for my benefit," Data replied sincerely.
Tasha's face broke out into a coy smile.
"I won't lie. That's a tiny part of why I replicated this for today. I thought you might appreciate it," she confessed. "And this kind of thing isn't really appropriate for most of what we've done here."
Data cocked his head to the side.
"But it feels kind of nice to get done up all flash for a change," Tasha admitted.
"Then in that case, you look quite fetching, my dear," Data said.
"Really?" Tasha asked with an eager smile.
Data nodded.
He kissed her cheek.
"May we delay our departure for five minutes?" Data requested.
"Yeah," Tasha replied.
Data turned to the ladder that led to the loft.
"I brought your sketchbook and charcoals down," Tasha said, assuming that was the reason for the delay.
Data spied them on the table and turned back to the ladder.
"I find that I am now underdressed," he explained for ascending to the bedroom.
As Data strolled into the village, he felt a surge in his neural net. He felt like he had pockets brimming with gold-pressed latinum.
Data was wearing his finest waistcoat, a dark tailored jacket, a fine silk ascot, and a short top hat.
He puffed away at his pipe as they made their way through the village. For Data, it was a better experience than any holodeck could provide.
Tasha had her arm looped through Data's, sporting her own embellished black top hat that complimented the dark grey and muted green tartan pattern of her dress.
She even had black parasol to accompany the ensemble. While the entire thing had seemed odd to Tasha, Guinan had assured her (as someone who had actually lived through the era) that this was the height of fashion.
Data and Tasha glanced at one another and shared a smile.
They were both dressed to the nines and on their way to a full day together. For Data, he couldn't envision a better way to spend the day.
"Come on, we don't want to be late," Tasha said, pulling him along.
"Where are we going?" Data asked.
They strolled past the library, skipped over the fishmonger, and headed down past the bakery on the edge of town.
Tasha could barely contain her excitement as they rounded the corner to the local railway stop.
Data gasped as he spied the functional antique steam train.
It hissed, sending a puff of steam in the air as the whistle sounded. People were bustling in and out – all in costume. The rail porter checked his pocket watch and announced that the train would depart soon.
It was just like the railway scenes Data had imagined.
Tasha retrieved two paper tickets from her satchel and handed one over to Data.
It may have been nothing more than a slip of paper, but to Data it felt like the pass to a day of adventure.
The train line offered passage through several modern towns before stopping in the historical district in the market town of Richmond.
The preserve maintained an office in Richmond and travel back and forth was relatively common for many of the villagers.
Data and Tasha would be taking a round trip there and back.
After they found their private car (Tasha had spared no expense on their accommodations) they settled in for the journey.
After a great lurch, the tell-tale clickety-clack of the train on the tracks signalled there were underway as the train slowly pulled out of the station.
The train ride was all Data could have imagined and more.
Data and Tasha had their own private compartment where they got to relax on plush velvet seats as the train chugged along the tracks.
After a time, the sound became almost rhythmic and served to put Data at ease.
The tracks cut across the preserve – winding through limestone hills, spanning the open moors, and cutting through endless fields of heather.
It was hard for Tasha to keep her eyes open as they rode along. All the layers from her dress were warm and the steady tempo of the train was relaxing. She surmised this is what it must feel like when they put babies in the holotraveller to get them to sleep.
Parents swore by it as a tried-and-true method for putting even the most unruly of children to sleep.
"Hmmm?" Tasha said as she felt Data grasp her hand.
She was resting her head on the wall by the window and had dozed off.
"Sorry," Tasha said as she opened her eyes. "Didn't mean to drift off."
"It is quite alright," Data assured her.
They smiled at one another, holding hands across the open space between them.
"I thought you might be more comfortable over here," Data offered, indicating to the empty space on his own side of the compartment.
He pulled Tasha off the bench across the way so she could sit down next to him. Tasha curled up by the window and rested her head back against his chest. Data reached around and intertwined his fingers with her own.
"You sure you wouldn't rather draw or read?" she asked.
"I would much rather hold you," Data answered.
Their visit to Richmond was perfect.
Tasha got a chance to stretch her legs, Data was able to learn more about the historic preserve, and they spent the afternoon exploring the shops.
They even made a detour to pick up a sack of treats for the children from a candy connoisseur that specialised in Victorian and Edwardian era candies.
Data and Tasha had even ventured out of the historic district. After hopping a modern shuttle, they spent part of the afternoon exploring the ruins of Easby Abbey.
Data was fascinated by the 13th-century ruin.
"This abbey was founded over one thousand years ago. Somehow it has managed to survive the dissolution of the monasteries, a civil war, and three world wars," Data said in awe.
In an unusual way, he felt a connection with the building.
As Data himself had no known lifespan, he felt a sense of camaraderie with something that had existed for long. Unlike all of the other surrounding buildings that would have been built a thousand years earlier, this building had stood the test of time.
It had watched the city grow, standing steadfast while all the other buildings around it came and went as the landscape changed.
"Are you alright?" Tasha asked from a few metres away.
She was standing next to a small ash tree.
Data recognised the species from the arboretum. They had nearly been wiped out by ash dieback centuries earlier.
The abbey ruins had likely seen thousands of trees come and go during their existence.
Data's oral cavity suddenly felt uncomfortably dry.
His gaze shifted from the tree to the wall and back again.
"I would like to return to the historical district now," Data said quickly.
"Sure," Tasha replied.
Data took one final look at the ruins as they rode away.
"Penny for your thoughts," Tasha said as she watched him.
She could sense he was lost in thought. Data turned back and cocked his head to the side as he struggled to find the words.
Even though Tasha was sitting next to him, the abbey had left him feeling lonely. It certainly wasn't the first time Data had reflected on his own existence and just how lengthy it would be.
He knew that he would outlive his friends.
He knew that he would outlive Tasha.
But to see it contrasted in such a harsh light had been a painful reminder of his immortality.
Tasha was an ash tree.
In time, just like a tree, she would change from a vibrant sapling to maturity before growing old and eventually dying.
And just like the ruins of the abbey, Data would be there to witness it as part of the lonely watch of an immortal being.
The bitter cycle of life.
"Hey," Tasha said as she tugged on his hand. "Talk to me. Please. I don't like when you get quiet for too long."
Data was usually a fount of information. His mind worked so fast that he had trouble shutting it off. Tasha found his babbling to be adorable.
She loved the way he got excited about different topics.
"Data?" she asked.
Tasha leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"I love you," she said. "You don't have to tell me – but I'm here if you want to talk."
Tasha flashed him a brilliant smile.
As Data stared at her, he couldn't help but feel fortunate enough that in the grand scheme of his long and lonely existence, she was a tree that happened to be growing in his courtyard.
It took hours for the train to return back to the village and the sun had gone down by the time they'd arrived.
Data had even gotten the chance to finally play Sherlock Holmes. The train ride had given him a chance to ponder the death in the village. After considering all the available evidence, Data had pieced together a motive and informed the constable of his theory.
With that out of the way, Data was able to focus all of his attention on Tasha.
The walk back to the cottage was a chilly one. Tasha found herself grateful for all the extra layers.
While it hadn't been the most romantic of evenings, the darkness did offer them the opportunity to do something they'd wanted to do all week.
After a short detour to fetch a blanket and a thermos of tea, Data and Tasha set off for the hill north of the farmhouse.
Data spread out the blanket and they plopped down to get in some stargazing before the end of their leave.
"Finally," Tasha sighed. "Some time alone."
"We were alone most of the time on the train," Data commented.
"Ah, but it's never enough," Tasha replied.
"No, no it is not," Data agreed.
Data was lying on the blanket. Tasha was situated perpendicular to him, her head resting against his abdomen. Their breath was visible in the crisp night-time air.
The night's sky was lovely. The air was cold, but in Tasha's opinion that made viewing the stars better. And it was certainly an improvement over the view in San Francisco. There was so much light pollution in San Francisco that it made stargazing difficult at times.
And although Data's optical receptors permitted him to filter out such light pollution, even he had to admit it was more beautiful in the solitude of the Dales. Additionally, Data knew that the cold air meant that the view was clearer than the hazy, sometimes muggy summer air.
"Orion," Tasha said as she viewed the brilliant belt of the hunter constellation.
It was one of the few constellations that was visible both from Earth and from Turkana – although it looked different from Turkana. The signature blue-white of the supergiant Rigel showed brilliantly in both skies.
"You know this is quite warm," Tasha commented as she glanced down at her dress.
"Are you now enjoying it?" Data inquired.
"Not really. It's still horribly tight. But it's warm at least," Tasha answered.
There was a short pause.
"Why? Do you like it?" Tasha asked.
"I thought we had already covered this," Data responded.
Tasha smiled to herself.
"It's alright to say you do," she said. "You can admit it."
Data's brow wrinkled.
"As I said earlier, it is fetching if you like it," Data answered.
Tasha sat up and glanced down at him.
"You like it," Tasha said slowly as she walked her fingers up his chest.
Data caught her hand.
"You find it aesthetically pleasing," Tasha teased as she leaned down inches from his face.
"That is, as you would say, a tough call," Data replied.
Tasha laughed and sat back upright.
Data sat up too but did not let go of her hand.
"You look attractive in this manner," Data said. "Though I believe you are adorable in suspenders."
"Flatterer," Tasha replied.
"But I like you best in nothing at all," Data whispered.
His breath was warm against her ear. Tasha shivered, but she wasn't sure if it was the weather or his words.
Tasha shifted so that she could face Data and rested her forehead against his.
Before she could say anything, Data spoke.
"Actually, I must retract that statement," he said seriously.
He sat back and frowned.
Tasha shot him a look.
"Oh, let me guess," she mused. "You're going to say something sweet and romantic. Well, I'm not as cultured. I think you look right lush in the buff and it's been far too long since-"
Tasha stopped as Data took hold of her chin, gently guiding her to turn her head.
"No," Data said.
Their eyes met and he was staring at her in the way that made her swoon.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Data reached down and clutched the hem of her skirt.
"I just realised that I have never seen you covered in chocolate, and I might like the idea of it," Data said, maintaining a serious demeanour.
Tasha fell back onto the blanket, clutching her side in a fit of laughter.
Plenty of crew members on the Enterprise believed Data was incapable of humour.
But he was far too funny for Tasha to ever believe that – not when he could make her ribs hurt with laughter.
And she was ever so thankful that she got to see this side of him whenever they were together.
"I fail to see what is so humorous," Data said in mock seriousness. "I cannot possibly formulate an accurate opinion until I have studied all available evidence."
"Hmm. What a pity I gave away all the chocolate," Tasha countered. "Guess you'll just have to use your imagination."
"How fortunate we will be back aboard the Enterprise by this time tomorrow," Data retorted.
Tasha fell back with a dramatic sigh. When Data followed, she rolled away from him.
"I will endeavour to please you until then," Data offered.
Tasha grinned and buried her face against the blanket.
"I could make good on my offer from earlier," Data suggested.
His breath was warm against her ear as his fingers traced the seam at the side of Tasha's corset.
"I believe I would enjoy unlacing this garment," Data went on.
Tasha rolled onto her back so she could look at Data properly. For a moment, they lay like that as he stared down at her.
"There are advantages to this," Tasha said with a smirk.
Data's face lit up.
A second later he buried his face in the swell of Tasha's chest. He'd had a difficult time keeping his eyes off it all day. Tasha had caught him looking more than once during their train ride.
Data adored her breasts. Were it up to him, he would lay his head there and initiate his rest programme from that spot every night for the rest of his existence.
And the sway of the train compartment rocking back and forth wasn't the only thing Data had found hypnotic on the ride home.
Tasha hissed as Data nipped the top of her left breast.
"Data," she said.
He growled against her skin. Tasha whimpered as Data clutched her hip, his fingers digging into the flesh there.
"Data," Tasha said more urgently.
She twisted her fingers into the back of his hair in an effort to get his attention.
Data stopped and lifted his chin, looking up at Tasha. His hair was a mess. He was panting, breathless with desire.
"Softer," Tasha said with a sympathetic look.
He nodded in understanding.
"I'm sorry I just-"
Tasha trailed off as Data captured her lips with a tender kiss. She felt terrible for asking him to slow down. But her breasts in particular were still tender.
When they broke apart, Data remained close. He nuzzled against Tasha's nose while his lips placed a series of slow, sweet kisses along her jaw, across her hairline, and the spot below her ear.
Data slipped behind her. His breath was warm. It tickled the spot just below her ear.
He slipped his fingers under the ribbon at the back of her bodice.
"My baby wants to be loved softer?" Data asked.
Tasha shivered when he kissed the nape of her neck, lingering there as he started to unlace the garment.
"I like this," Data murmured. "And I like taking this off you."
Suddenly, Tasha frantically glanced around. She cast a leery eye at the stone wall. Data gripped her biceps, pulling Tasha flush against him.
"We are alone," he growled before quickly assuring Tasha that he would stop if she wanted.
Tasha relaxed.
"No. No, you're right," Tasha said.
She pressed a kiss against his hand on her arm.
They were miles from anyone and sitting at the highest point. They could see anyone approaching and Data would hear and see anyone long before they were spotted.
Tasha felt a rush of physical relief as her bodice slipped away. The tight garment had left her feeling constricted all day – especially after tea.
Data cupped her breasts.
"It is a crime to cover these," Data said.
Tasha melted back against Data as he gently massaged her breasts. His thumbs ghosted over her nipples, erect from the chilly air.
She grinned to herself, thinking with no small sense of bliss, that this is what it must feel like to be one of those salacious, wanton heroines in Beverly's cheesy romance novels.
"Is this soft enough for you?" Data pressed.
Tasha whined. She ached for more contact.
"Data," she breathed.
"Hmm?" he asked as he nibbled at her exposed neck.
She reached for Data's hands, covering them with her own.
"Please," Tasha urged.
"This is our final night here, my dear," Data said as he laid her down against the blanket on the grass.
Tasha felt like her lungs stopped working as Data's mouth travelled down over her chin, her neck, and the swell of her breasts.
"I intend to take my time with you," Data said.
Data reached for her hands. He gripped Tasha's wrists, pinning them down above her.
"My love wishes to be treated with tenderness?" Data teased.
He captured Tasha's left breast with his mouth, his tongue grazed over her hardened nipple before releasing it with an obscene pop.
Data paused to look up at Tasha. He licked his lips before delivering the same attention to the right side.
"I shall endeavour to do my best," Data said as he sat up.
Data pinched her nipples between his fingers, rolling them just enough to elicit a small whimper. He was teasing her, driving her right to edge of begging him for it.
Tasha reached for Data, but he caught her wrist.
He pressed a soft kiss to the curve of her breast.
"And she will be loved slow and sweet and with all the affection I hold for her," Data promised.
He dove under Tasha's skirt. He peeled back her stockings, nibbling his way up the inside of her thighs before he found his target.
And then Data stopped.
Tasha froze.
Is something wrong?
Data emerged from beneath the layers of skirt and crinoline wearing an unmistakable look of surprise. He blinked slowly.
Tasha panicked.
"These are not era-appropriate," Data remarked as his thumb slipped under the edge of her knickers.
Tasha's face flushed. She averted her eyes.
Victorian undergarments were where Tasha drew the line. She was already wearing so many damn layers she wasn't keen to add the long, frilly-style bloomers on top of all that.
So, she'd forgone those in favour of something more modern. Tasha was sporting a pair of lacy knickers. It was the type of thing she didn't typically wear.
She had packed them for the trip, and it was the first chance she'd had to wear them.
They were hardly scandalous – but certainly cheeky.
"Um-"
Tasha never got the chance to finish her sentence. Data dove back beneath her skirts. He snagged the edge of her knickers with his teeth.
After dragging them down over her bare thigh, Data's tongue ran up the length of her abductor muscle.
Data's nose swiped against her clitoris, eliciting a small gasp from Tasha.
Then his tongue darted out to lap at her cunt. There was no sound save for Tasha's breathing, the wind, and the occasional rustle of her skirt.
Data's tongue felt divine.
He cupped her arse, holding Tasha tight against his mouth as he worked to drive her orgasm.
Tasha blinked as she stared up at the sky above.
She could see her breath, panting rapidly as Data continued his ministrations between her thighs. The night air was cold, and it stung the back of her throat.
Tasha lifted her head ever so slightly and glanced around to check that they were still alone.
She was keenly aware that here, on top of this hill and under the sky, they were exposed.
Very exposed.
Sure, there was nothing for miles.
But she was lying on her back, half naked, coming apart against the world's sweetest mouth. Tasha wasn't just aroused, she felt excited by the thrill of it.
She reached for Data, clutching his hair. Tasha was desperate to ground herself.
In that moment, they were alone.
Completely alone in the universe.
Just us. Tasha thought.
Tasha shivered.
She twisted her fingers into Data's hair. She wanted more contact. She needed more contact.
Data's neural net surged at her touch. Tasha hadn't just reached for him – she was rubbing herself against his mouth. Her hips came up off the blanket as she ground against Data.
Data loved when she took charge. He was leaking precum already. His cock strained against his trousers, eager for any sort of friction.
Tasha held his head firmly against her cunt, wordlessly pleading with Data to finish her.
His lips closed around her clitoris. He pressed his tongue flat against her swollen nub and began to suck. Then he activated the function that made Tasha swoon.
Data's mouth began to vibrate. It radiated out from his tongue and through his lips.
Tasha let go of everything. Her body twitched as she came.
When Data emerged from beneath her skirts, he looked the very picture of debauchery. His hair was askew. His chin glistened, wet with her slick.
Tasha's skin was flushed.
Data slowly crawled up toward her, pausing to kiss her navel before he captured her lips.
Wordlessly, he fumbled for the latch on his trousers. It was a task made difficult by the rather prominent and throbbing organ that was begging for attention.
Data pushed his trousers down over his hips as Tasha lifted her skirts.
Tasha yanked down by the collar. Her lips crashed against his mouth. Her feet dug into his backside, urging Data on.
To her dismay, Data stopped.
"Data?" she panted.
He reached behind Tasha to cup the back of her head as he pulled her close. Data pressed a tender kiss against the side of her face, lingering there for a moment.
"I have a better idea," Data said.
Tasha had initially been sceptical of Data's suggestion that they return to the farmhouse.
She hadn't even realised how cold she was. But Data had felt it. Her skin was chilled, and he didn't want her to be uncomfortable.
Now that they were back at the farmhouse, Tasha was grateful to be out of the wind. It howled against the old house, whipping past and over the limestone hills outside.
The little woodstove in the corner was kicking out enough heat to keep the bedroom warm.
Aside from the wind, there was no sound save for the obscene squeaking noise as the brass bed frame creaked and groaned.
Tasha gripped the frame. She clung to it, needing something to hold onto as Data's bony hips smacked against her backside.
She was on her knees on the bed. Data was behind her, driving into Tasha.
A low, stuttering groan escaped from Data's throat as he spilled himself deep inside her warm cunt.
Data kissed the nape of her neck. He nuzzled against her back before resting his head between her shoulder blades. One of his long arms snaked around Tasha's body.
Then he stilled.
Data was reluctant to move for he knew pulling away meant kissing goodbye to this snug, sweet space where he felt safe.
He took a deep breath. Data's power cell started to regulate itself, slowing until it beat at a normal pace again.
Joined so intimately, Data felt a connection that surpassed just physical closeness.
Tasha's hand came to rest above his own. She gave it a gentle squeeze, wordlessly communicating that she was going to move.
Data kissed her shoulder and then climbed off, immediately missing the sense of closeness.
Tasha slipped out of bed with a promise to return promptly. She threw another log into the woodstove, choosing a big piece to ensure it would burn through the night.
Then she pulled on her ridiculous long underwear pyjamas.
Data thought they were adorable.
Tasha sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on a thick pair of woolly socks.
Before she could climb back under the sheets, Data pulled her flush against him. He buried his head against her shoulder and groaned appreciatively.
Tasha grinned.
She tried to roll over to kiss him properly, but Data wasn't about to let go.
"Stay," he muttered.
His fingers hovered near the flap on the back of her pyjamas. Simultaneously, his hand found the button on the front. They were a universal design (not that Data was complaining).
"May I?" he whispered.
"What has gotten into you tonight?" Tasha asked.
"My dear, it is really more a matter of what I want to get into," Data retorted.
There was a sharp intake of breath as Tasha felt his cock brush against her backside.
"You feel so good. I want to hold you as close as is possible," Data explained.
"I won't say no to that," Tasha replied.
Data opened the flap at the back and gently slipped in, burying himself back inside of her as they spooned together on the bed.
It wasn't necessarily sexual in nature, but Data remained hard.
Eventually, the stillness gave way to slow, languid thrusts. His nimble fingers rubbed the spot that made Tasha swoon.
When she came, Data stilled. He made no move pull away and they started to drift off together.
Data thought she was nearly asleep when Tasha clutched his hand.
"A part of me doesn't want to leave," she confessed.
Data snuggled close to her. His breath tickled at her ear.
"Darling, eventually you will have to get out of this bed. I cannot carry you around on my-"
Tasha snorted with laughter. Then she sighed.
"I mean go back. I… I like this. Being together like this," Tasha said.
Here they could stroll hand in hand without having to find an abandoned deck or breaking apart whenever they ran into another crew member.
They could share a quick peck on the lips (or more) openly. There was no need to pull one another into an abandoned supply closet or sheltered alcove.
Their relationship was hardly a secret anymore – though there were professional expectations they had to maintain.
On occasion, they would attend an event together or get dinner in Ten Forward. But the vast majority of their relationship was relegated behind the walls of their respective quarters.
"I find that I have enjoyed the… freedom we share here to be unparalleled," Data remarked.
Earlier in the week, Data had asked Tasha if it was difficult for her to adapt to the lack of modern conveniences. He was concerned that their present circumstances raised hard memories of her time on Turkana.
But Tasha had seemed to find a sense of relief in being out on the farm. In fact, she had shared with Data that she quite liked it.
Tasha enjoyed fishing and preparing dinner for them, caring for Clopper, and picking pears in the orchard.
Even Data had to admit there was a sense of satisfaction that came from taking the time to prepare real food or fashion a fishhook from iron. Data had felt a sense of accomplishment after harvesting honey.
In fact, he could grow quite accustomed to this life.
"Would you like to have a place like this someday?" Data asked.
They spoke so little about life after Starfleet. Starfleet was their whole world. It seemed like such a foreign concept to think about what came after.
"Would it make you happy? To have a farm?" Data pressed.
Tasha didn't know what to say. Some of the only happy memories she took from Turkana had come from her time on a farm.
"We could do that. We could have a place like this of our own. Spend every night together under these stars," Data said. "You, me… a house full of children."
"Down, Data," Tasha warned.
When Captain Picard picked them up the following morning, there was nothing to indicate the nature of their trip save for the fact Tasha was sporting a healthy glow – certainly not sun, but an ethereal glow that spoke to complete relaxation.
After unpacking and a quick sonic shower, Data and Tasha had a quiet meal in her quarters. It was nice to be home, even if it had meant leaving behind the solitude of their holiday.
"You seem pensive," Data observed.
She'd been picking at her dinner, pushing her food back and forth absentmindedly with her fork for the last eight minutes.
"Just dreading tomorrow," Tasha answered.
"The Command Conference?" Data inquired.
Tasha nodded and then sighed.
"I am quite looking forward to the day," Data shared. "It is a unique opportunity and an important function of our duty."
"You know that Emerging Threats panel I was telling you about?" Tasha asked.
"I recall you shared disappointment with the content," Data replied.
Before jetting off on their shore leave, Tasha had put her time at the Starfleet Academy reunion to good use by attending a Security conference.
Tasha had found the panel on 'Emerging Threats' to be lacking. In fact, Ambassador T'Pel had dismissed Tasha's concerned question as being 'out of the loop' with the current political climate.
Tasha sat back in her chair and looked out the window at the stars.
"You can say that again," she remarked. "I just get this icky feeling like HQ's ignoring the Romulan threat. There's been far too much activity along the Neutral Zone lately. Like they're testing us."
Tasha ran her hand back through her hair and then took a long drink before continuing.
"At the very least, it means they don't take the threat seriously," Tasha began. "And at the worst-"
She trailed off and cocked her head to the side.
"At the worst it's because the Romulans are influencing Starfleet Command," Tasha finished darkly.
Tasha got up from the table and returned her plate to the replicator to be reprocessed.
"And before you ask, no I don't have any proof," she explained. "It's just a hunch."
She sat back down at the table and rested her chin on her fist.
"Do you know Captain Rixx?" Tasha asked seemingly out of nowhere.
"Captain Rixx, Commander of the USS Thomas Paine," Data recited, accessing his neural net to obtain the information. "I have not met him personally, but his service record would indicate he is an exemplary officer."
"He's a good guy," Tasha commented. "Served with Captain Picard on the Stargazer."
Captain Rixx was currently regarded as one of Starfleet's finest Captains. Tasha informed Data that she had worked under Rixx on several occasions. She'd served under him for a time during her stint with Covert Operations and then later with both Captain Picard and Captain Rixx for various assignments and during support missions with the Atraidesbefore joining the Enterprise.
"For the last six years, Rixx has been the senior command officer along the Neutral Zone," Tasha said. "The Thomas Paineis part of our patrol presence along the border."
"Has something changed?" Data asked.
"I don't know," Tasha replied honestly. "He wants to meet tomorrow at the Command Conference. Privately. OffStarfleet property."
Tasha looked up.
"Don't say anything to anyone, alright?" Tasha requested.
After dinner, Tasha had been reluctant to go to bed. Even long after Data was ready to activate his rest programme, Tasha had sat up reading.
Shortly after midnight, Data crawled out of bed to check on her. He stopped in the doorframe to watch her.
Tasha was curled up on the sofa rereading Pet Semetary for the dozenth time.
"Tasha?" Data prompted.
She startled.
"I-I was just uh…"
She stammered, fumbling for an excuse.
As Data approached the sofa, he noticed Tasha was hiding her tablet behind the book. Data was immediately on Red Alert.
"Would you like to talk?" Data offered.
He knew she was bothered about meeting with Captain Rixx tomorrow. Curiosity had always been Tasha's greatest weakness and there was good reason for her to fear poking around at a possible Romulan conspiracy.
Data was too quick for Tasha. And though she tried to swipe to a different screen, Data caught sight of the file that was open on her tablet.
Personnel File: Hobson, Christopher; Lieutenant Commander
Tasha couldn't meet Data's eyes.
"It's nothing," Tasha said quickly.
She flinched when Data reached for her head.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Tasha apologised.
"You have no need to apologise," Data assured her.
Tasha set her tablet down on the coffee table. A heavy sigh slipped from her throat as she massaged her temples.
Tasha was drained.
"I just… I'll sleep better knowing where he's going to be tomorrow so I can avoid him," Tasha shared.
It was safer that way.
Data pulled her into a tight embrace.
"If it disturbs you to attend, I could speak with Captain Picard about-"
"Oh, gods no!" Tasha said quickly.
She sat up and pulled away, shaking her head as if the thought was somehow more frightening.
"I can't… Data I have to go. It's my job. I just don't want to be near him. And I certainly don't want anyone to know," Tasha insisted.
She wasn't sure she could take the shame of anyone else finding out about her relationship with Hobson.
"He's just a jerk, Data. That's all," Tasha lied.
In truth, Hobson was far more than a jerk. After Tasha ended their relationship, he'd made her life a living hell.
She had realised then and there than their friends were really Christopher's friends.
And their life had been Christopher's life.
Christopher Hobson had known exactly what he was doing when he set his sights on that girl from Turkana.
And that's exactly what she had been – a girl.
Looking back, Tasha knew it was ridiculous for her to feel the way she did. It wasn't her fault that Hobson was a manipulative predator.
But Tasha couldn't set aside the shame and guilt that came from that time in her life. She felt like a fool for falling into that trap, for ever believing that someone like Christopher Hobson could ever truly be interested in her for any legitimate sense of affection or love.
Before she knew it, Tasha was crying.
"I mean if you can sit in the same room as Bruce Maddox I can certainly spend the day in a conference with his smug arse," Tasha sobbed.
She paused to wipe away a fresh set of hot tears.
"I m-m-mean it's stupid. I know it's stupid. There's going to be hundreds of people there," Tasha went on.
"The number of people present does not invalidate your feelings," Data said softly.
Tasha hated that he was right.
She knew, she just knew, that Hobson would give her a little smirk before sharing a story with his comrades. Tasha was accustomed to the whispers that followed.
"Do you wish to talk about it?" Data said, repeating his earlier offer.
He knew enough to piece together that their relationship had ended on bad terms. Data had also done the maths while they'd hid from Hobson that night at the reunion and recognised their relationship was not only a violation of Starfleet Academy regulations (staff were prohibited from fraternisation with students), but it was also a violation of Earth law.
Tasha had been a child – orphaned and completely alone on a foreign planet.
Hobson had been an officer, a liaison between the Academy and Starfleet Command. He'd been an officer and pushing thirty when he first set his sights on that fifteen-year-old child from Turkana.
"Perhaps Counsellor Troi would-"
"No," Tasha said, brushing off the idea.
Tasha had regular counselling sessions with Deanna. In spite of this, Tasha had always been reserved in those sessions, sharing only what was absolutely necessary.
In Tasha's opinion, Deanna had already had to endure more than a lifetime's worth of trauma. She didn't need to add to that.
At least not on the eve of the Command Conference.
If she were to be honest with herself, Tasha didn't want anyone to know because she was embarrassed with her own choices during that time in her life.
She didn't need Deanna to affirm it was abuse. Tasha knew that and was perfectly content to simply spare herself the humiliation of having to relive it.
She didn't want to think about his snickering friends or their idea of fun. Only it seemed Tasha was the only one that was ever on the receiving end of these 'pranks.'
It felt like living in an alternate reality when Hobson and his friends would insist it was all in good fun.
Tasha didn't think it was fun being groped at parties. But Christopher liked to grab her in front of his friends. When Tasha protested, Hobson had a way of making her feel bad.
One afternoon at the beach, Hobson had untied her swim top, giving Tasha an excuse about tan lines. She'd begrudgingly allowed it only for him to dump an iced drink on her back.
When Tasha had instinctively reacted, Hobson's friends had been on hand to snap a photo – roaring with laughter when she angrily demanded they return her top and beach towel.
And those had been the lighter pranks.
Tasha had felt humiliated and ashamed by their idea of 'harmless fun.'
The final blow had come after their heated breakup when Tasha discovered Hobson had made a series of recordings.
Recordings she had never consented to.
Recordings Hobson had no qualms about sharing with the express intention of hurting Tasha.
It had taken Tasha years to live that down. It followed her through the Academy and into her early assignments. Even when she'd transferred to the Crazy Horse, there were still whispers that followed.
Crew members that fell into hushed conversations when Tasha walked into the room.
That's the one. They would whisper. Do you know what they called her at the Academy?
"Tasha?" Data asked, pulling Tasha back from her self-spiral.
He reached up to cup her face, brushing away the tears with his thumb.
Tasha dropped her gaze to her lap.
"I just… I don't ever want to see him again," Tasha concluded without elaborating.
Data kissed her forehead, lingering there as he stroked her back.
"He is never going to hurt you again," Data promised.