A/N: Thank you for sticking with this story.

This chapter focuses on the events of "Questions" and "Family" (Chapters 19 & 20 of "The Complication").

C/W: Workplace harassment and sexual assault. Messy drunk Tasha/nurturing Data.

Thank you to Charlie Fenwick for allowing me to build on her story & to use parts of it to try and seamlessly weave in these missing scenes.

We've got a number of readers that are *only* reading the "Missing Scenes" so in some chapters you will notice longer chunks that are directly from "The Complication." Charlie suggested (and I agree) that the context was necessary.


Tasha rolled onto her back and blinked several times.

She heard them moving off, their footfalls growing more faint with each passing second.

In the distance, there was the steady drip of water as it ran off the stalactites that hung over the underground spring.

Everything hurt.

Tasha could taste blood in her mouth.

She brought her hand up to feel her face and hissed.

Fortunately, it felt like she hadn't lost any teeth, but her jaw was bruised.

Tasha couldn't see out of her left eye – there was too much swelling. And she was certain her hand was fractured.

"We have to get you to Gudrun," Ishara said as she emerged from the shadows.

Gudrun is a wise woman. A healer. She sells herbs and teas, poultices and plasters, and more placebo than medicine in Tasha's opinion.

Tasha shook her head.

"No, we're leaving now," Ishara insisted. "Besides, we can make good time. Not like we've got much left to carry."

She looked around bitterly at their decimated camp.

"I still have it," she added as she thumbed her locket.

It was the only thing of value the two owned anymore as their supplies, Tasha's beloved bow, and most of their tools were now gone. It was worth at least a few months' rations.

But they only have one bargaining chip.

"Told you to get rid of that stupid cat," Ishara said. "Nothing but trouble."

Tasha tries to sit up but falls back to the floor, clutching her ribs in agony.

Tears well up in her eyes, stinging the wounds on her face.

"Tasha, we need to go to Gudrun," Ishara insisted.

Ishara knew it was bad – even worse than when Tasha got shot.

Tasha grabbed Ishara's arm.

"We can't go to Gudrun right now," Tasha said thickly, her broken nose and bloody throat made it hard to speak clearly. "We need to save it. Otherwise, if we have to go back, we won't have anything to pay with."

Gudrun only accepts goods in trade.

The concept of credit doesn't exist on Turkana.

And Tasha refuses to join one of the clans.

The two sisters have been down this road once before when Ishara got into a spot of trouble and the silphiwort had failed.

Gudrun drives a hard bargain, especially when she knows how dearly it will cost one. Tasha understands they will only have one shot at this.

Rape is common on Turkana. But it usually came at the hands of someone the victim knew – like a clan member, one of the factions, or a mercenary. Most often, it was used as means of terror to send a message about a debt owed or to send a message about choosing a side in the civil war.

Tasha has been down this road before.

And she'll sooner throw herself into the ravine than carry a child to term. She knows that pregnancy on Turkana might as well be a death sentence – for many, it is.

"We're not going," Tasha asserts. "Not yet. Please."

As she stares at the rocks above, she briefly wonders if it would have been easier to simply comply. A considerate rapist would never have risked pregnancy.

Only on Turkana would the phrase 'considerate rapist' exist. Tasha thinks bitterly.

Tasha closes her right eye and tried to focus on the cool cave floor beneath her.

Anything but the pain.

"We wait and see," Tasha adds softly. "We have to wait and see."

Tasha understood it would take weeks to know for sure and doesn't want to waste their only chance on her eye.

She instructs her sister that they'll wait an hour and then make for the forest. It's the opposite direction of where they were headed, but she knows she's only got about forty-eight hours to find and consume an adequate amount of silphiwort.

Usually, the sisters are mindful to keep it with them in their medical pack. When they've needed it, they mix it into a tea.

But their medical pack is gone – taken along with the rest of their belongings by the gang that's left her for dead.

And Tasha knows she's about ten days away from bleeding again which means she'll have to wait another month after that. She's learned enough to use the moon to count her cycle.

Tasha curses being a woman on Turkana. It's not a fate she would wish on anyone.

"We need to get moving," Ishara said.

"Give me a moment," Tasha replied.

She's so tired.

"Tasha?" Ishara asked, worried.

She can feel herself starting to drift.

"Tasha?" Ishara repeated.

Tasha let the darkness of the cave floor overcome her.

"Tasha?" Data said firmly.

Tasha sat up, startled.

She looked around in the darkness as she got her bearings.

Data could see she was breathing heavily, and her heart rate was elevated.

"Tasha, are you alright?" he asked as he touched her shoulder.

Tasha froze.

He felt her tense and immediately withdrew his hand.

"You were having a nightmare," Data said.

"I'm fine," Tasha replied as she tried to slow her breathing.

It had felt so real, just like when she had been on the Bridge.

"You are sweating," Data observed.

She took hold of his hand.

"It was just realistic is all," Tasha said in an attempt to help him understand. "Like I was there."

She reached up to touch her eye, confirming that it was, in fact, not swollen shut.

It had all felt so real.

"It is possible that whatever is causing the heightened hallucination effect the crew is experiencing in this place could also amplify the dream experience," Data explained.

Tasha leaned back against the headboard and pulled her knees up to her chest instinctively.

"Perhaps you should go back to sleep?" Data suggested.

Tasha shook her head.

If this strange place was amplifying their dreams, Tasha wanted no part of it.

"I'm going to take a shower and then go for an early morning run," Tasha told him as she got out of bed.

Data looked at her curiously.

"While it is technically morning, is this time not considered unusually early?" Data inquired.

It was shortly after 03:00.

Tasha shot him a look that indicated this was not the time and Data nodded in understanding.


Tasha felt great.

She had reached the moment where the pain transformed into euphoria.

She was in her space, and she didn't want to stop.

With each footfall on the rocks below, she felt it would be easier to keep running than stop.

"Tasha?" Data said.

He had insisted on accompanying her.

She had hardly spoken since she'd woken up.

"Tasha, you have been engaged in physical activity for almost ninety minutes," Data said effortlessly.

Captain Picard had made clear that he did not want to see her with another sports injury during this emergency.

And Data suspected that this was bending the rules.

Tasha was an adept athlete. But according to Data's internal sensors they had run over a half-marathon already and she showed no signs of slowing down.

"Captain Picard ordered you-" Data began to say but was cut off.

"To avoid extreme programmes," Tasha huffed. "This is just running."

Sometimes she was jealous of his ability to not feel the strain of exertion. At the same time, she felt a twinge of sadness knowing he wouldn't be able to experience the endorphin release that came with it.

She sped up, increasing her pace enough to push herself for the final leg of her run.

Data matched her pace and looked over at her, concerned.

"Tasha," he said in a warning voice. "I recommend that you slow down."

She threw her head back in frustration. Regretfully, she took his advice and began to slow her pace to a casual jog.

After a few minutes, they slowed to a walk and eventually she stopped to stretch.

"The briefing will begin in about seventy-four minutes and forty seconds," Data advised.

"Sure," she said as she pulled her leg back to stretch her quad. "I'm just going to take a shower and I'll meet you there."

Data cocked his head to the side.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Thanks for coming with me."


Data wasn't the only to notice that Tasha looked anything but fine when she stepped into the briefing.

She nodded as she slipped into the chair next to Worf.

Deanna couldn't help but pick up on the feelings – or more precisely lack thereof – coming from Tasha.

It was as if she had dissociated entirely.

She was physically there with them in the meeting room.

But mentally, she was a world away.

"As of this morning, Mister Kosinski's assistant remains unconscious," Captain Picard informed them.

"We're monitoring his vitals but there's a lot we don't know about his physiology," Beverly explained.

They still didn't exactly know how they had gotten here.

Or where they were.

Or if they would ever get home.


Following a terse discussion about the gravity of their supply situation, the Captain then turned to the counsellor.

"Counsellor Troi, could you please remain behind? I'd like to discuss where we're at with bringing on those temporary counsellors," Picard said.

Deanna had been overwhelmed the day before with crew members and their families desperate for time with a counsellor. It was much more than one counsellor could handle and she needed some extra hands.

Captain Picard had asked her to select several other crew members with experience to fill a temporary counselling role during the crisis.

"Yes, captain," Deanna said. "I'd like Lieutenant Yar to stay as well."

Tasha looked up from the table as if the mention of her name had pulled her from a deep thought.

"The rest of you are dismissed," Captain Picard ordered.

Once the crew had left the Observation Lounge, Deanna began to explain her plan to Captain Picard.

"With your permission, sir, I would like to ask Lieutenant Becker. He has considerable experience from his time on the Gagarin. I'd also like Lieutenant Chaganti, as you know she served as a counsellor on Starbase twelve before joining Starfleet medical," Deanna explained.

Doctor Crusher had already assured Deanna that she could spare Lieutenant Chaganti and she came highly recommended.

"And Lieutenant Yar," Deanna went on.

Tasha looked between Deanna and the captain.

"Deanna, I have-" Tasha started to say as she shook her head.

"You're perfect," Deanna insisted. "And you're the only other person on this ship with advanced training in trauma response."

Tasha tensed.

She knew Deanna was right. It was an invaluable resource for her job in security.

Internally, she was wrestling with herself.

On one hand, Tasha understood her duty. On the other hand, she was in no mood to think about trauma at the moment.

No, she was already living it.

"Deanna, I have a lot of work with Security," Tasha said, hopeful that she would buy her excuse.

"Why not let Worf take over some of the responsibility today and you can-" Deanna started to suggest but Tasha cut her off sharply.

"No," Tasha said.

"I think it's a good plan," Picard chimed in.

"I don't need help," Tasha insisted. "I can do my job."

Deanna felt a flash of anger come from Tasha.

"Lieutenant, I have no doubt of that," Picard responded.

"Tasha, you seem to be on edge about something," Deanna noted.

"Sorry, just up early," Tasha replied. "I'm fine. Why don't I take appointments this afternoon and evening? I can start at 15:00 hours."

Deanna eyed her sceptically.

"It's fine," Tasha said, hoping to reassure her.

In reality, Tasha felt like nothing was fine. But she saw no use in drawing further attention by sharing. She just wanted the situation with Walsh to go away.

Captain Picard caught her on the way out of the Observation Lounge.

"Lieutenant, has something happened that I should be aware of?" Picard inquired.

"Nothing that needs to be on your radar at this time, sir," Tasha replied.

Tasha knew she would have to address the situation with Walsh at some point. If they made it back home, Tasha knew Admiral Walsh would be hot. At the same time, if they never made it back, they'd have to figure out what to do with Walsh aboard the Enterprise.

"Tasha, what happened?" Picard asked.

"One crisis at a time, sir," Tasha answered with a smile.


An hour later, Beverly was back in Sickbay where Wesley was sitting in the corner next to the exam bed where the Traveller lay unconscious.

Beverly walked up and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Mom, he's my friend," Wesley said. "What's going to happen to him?"

He looked over at the Traveller lying unconscious on the exam table.

Wesley couldn't explain it, but the two had become fast friends since the Traveller had come aboard. They shared an understanding, a connection. And much to Wesley's delight, the Traveller had treated him like a colleague rather than a child.

"There's a lot we don't know about his kind," Beverly explained. "His brain scans are unlike anything I've ever seen."

Unconsciously, she brushed his hair back.

"Mom," Wesley said as he pulled away.

"Sorry, Wes," she said.

"It's OK, mom," he said as he looked back up at her.

She had the same look she got from time to time – usually when they talked about his father or her grandmother Howard.

"How about tonight you and I do family night? It's been a while and I'm sorry," Beverly suggested with a smile. "We can make that Vulcan pok tar you like."

"And Grandma Howard's ginger biscuits?" Wesley asked excitedly.

"Of course," Beverly replied with a smile.

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and told him she'd be back after she completed inventory with Data.

Doctor Crusher escorted Data into her office.

"These are our last inventory counts and projections," Beverly said. "But based on all of the injuries we've seen in the last twenty-four hours, those projections are going to change if this keeps up."

As if on cue, the doors to Sickbay slid open and two ensigns from the archaeology team stepped in – one sporting an arm with serious lacerations.

Before Beverly could step in, Nurse Ogowa and Doctor Selar were on it.

"Whatever this place is, it's a hazard to the crew's health," Doctor Crusher sighed.

Data watched as her eyes fell to Wesley.

"And their families," Beverly added softly.

"Doctor, may I ask you a question?" Data asked.

"What's on your mind, Data?" she replied.

"Doctor, what are your feelings on our current situation?" Data inquired. "Specifically, as your family is aboard the Enterprise, do you feel relieved?"

Data looked down to the floor briefly.

"And is that wrong?" Data asked as he met her eyes.

Beverly sat on the edge of her desk and exhaled.

"Data, I don't know where to begin," she confessed.

It was true that there was a feeling of relief that Wesley was with her. When they had first made the jump to this strange place, Beverly had felt a sense of guilt.

While there were certainly a number of families aboard the Enterprise, most crew members were alone.

Many of them were now separated from their families.

"Data, where is this coming from?" Beverly asked.

He looked uncharacteristically concerned.

"Doctor, please," Data pressed. "It is important to me to understand how you are feeling now as I am struggling to emulate an appropriate emotional response to this crisis."

Beverly nodded.

"Ok, ok," she said.

She paused for a moment while she collected her thoughts.

"A part of me is relieved that Wes is here. It's comforting to know that if we never make it back, he's not millions of lightyears away alone and wondering what happened," Beverly explained.

She turned her gaze out to the main room of Sickbay.

"Lieutenant Selar has two children," Beverly said sadly. "One at Starfleet Academy and the other is still on Vulcan with her wife."

"Then you are pleased Wesley is here with you?" Data asked to clarify.

"Sort of," Beverly said. "It's complicated."

She got up and walked over to the glass wall. Beverly crossed her arms.

"I can't stop thinking about all the things he'll miss out on if we never get home," Beverly admitted. "He wants to join Starfleet and I don't want to deprive him of that opportunity."

"If we are stuck here indefinitely, I have calculated an eighty-nine-point four percent chance that Wesley would be appointed a field commission," Data stated.

Beverly turned back to Data.

"It's more than just that," Beverly said. "There's no future for him here. What if he wants to get married?"

She glanced back to Wes.

"Start a family?" Beverly said with a hint of regret.

A sudden feeling of uncertainty crept into Data's mind and settled in the pit of his stomach.

He had not considered this. He had always considered that he would like to have a family of his own – someday.

It was like something hardwired into his system that he couldn't shake.

It was ingrained into the very building blocks of his synthetic structure.

While he had theorised that someday his systems would possibly reach a point of being irreparably damaged, he knew that would not occur for hundreds of years at the earliest.

In his mind, he had always pushed the desire to procreate off as it was likely he would have centuries to decide.

But the last twenty-four hours had brought it back to the forefront of his mind.

Theoretically, he had all the time in the universe. Yet, he knew that wasn't the case for humans.

Most importantly, he had no idea how Tasha felt about having a family.

He resolved that if it became clear they weren't going to make it home, he would bring it up for discussion.

"Do you regret your decision to have a child?" Data asked.

"Never," Beverly smiled. "Even on the scariest days, I wouldn't change it for the world."

"Even knowing that something bad could happen?" Data queried.

"Data? Are you alright?" Beverly asked as she noticed he was concentrating on something.

"I am functioning within normal parameters," he replied.

"Data," Doctor Crusher said.

She knew there was something bothering him.

"I have been…feeling…guilty," he confessed. "I am a unique life form and I have struggled to formulate close friendships prior to serving on the Enterprise."

"But?" Beverly pressed.

There was something in his voice that indicated the issue was more complex.

"Now I am feeling conflicted. For some time, I have felt a growing sensation. It is as if it were embedded in my programming. A desire to," he paused as if searching for the right word. "Procreate."

Beverly's eyebrows shot up.

"As in..." she trailed off as she waved her hands.

"Procreate. As in to produce or generate offspring," Data stated.

Beverly bit back a smile.

"Yes, Data. I understand what it means," she said awkwardly. "I am just not sure I understand what you mean."

"Because I am an inorganic lifeform?" Data inquired.

"Well, yes," Beverly admitted.

She felt bad for saying it, but she didn't understand where Data was headed.

"An increased amount of my processing capacity has been focused on the idea of family," Data said. "And the last twenty-four hours have given me considerable information to weigh regarding that decision."

He went on to inform her that he had not yet determined whether he wanted to pursue creating an inorganic lifeform like himself or raise a humanoid child.

"There are many considerations," Data said. "And since I began a relationship with Tasha that adds another factor to the equation."

"You've really been thinking about this for a while," Beverly commented.

Data nodded.

"Data, have you and Tasha talked about this?" Beverly asked.

He shook his head.

"Not yet, Doctor," he explained. "It was my intention to discuss this as you would say 'down the road.' But the events of the last twenty-four hours may require I have that conversation sooner than anticipated."

Beverly shared the feeling. She was having her own thoughts about 'what ifs' when it came to her relationship with Jean-Luc.

"We don't know that we're stuck here yet," Beverly said. "Maybe give it a day or so."

"Because you believe Tasha will be opposed to the idea?" Data asked. "I have observed humans often delay conversations when they believe the outcome will be unfavourable."

"No Data," Beverly assured him. "I just mean that we're all adjusting to this new normal. We don't even know where we are yet."

Data considered her statement and nodded in agreement.

"That is most wise, Doctor," he said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied.

Beverly took hold of his hand.

"And Data, always remember that family comes in many forms," she smiled.


Across the ship, Tasha was headed for the auxiliary control centre near shuttle bay two when she heard phaser fire coming from the shuttle bay.

"Yar to security team C. I'm reading weapons fire in shuttle bay two," Tasha said as she tapped her combadge.

Security team C had been guarding the shuttle bay that morning. It was part of the standard beefed up security in light of their current situation.

Tasha raced down the corridor. She tried her combadge again. There was no response.

She opened the door to the shuttle bay to find security team C squaring off against a contingent of Cardassian troopers.

More hallucinations.

They were growing more dangerous by the minute.

She knew this was only their imagination. Captain Picard had warned the crew that this place could turn their thoughts and feelings into reality.

Glancing across the shuttle bay she spotted Ensign Jeffords and Gomez engaged in a firefight. To their left, Lieutenant Harris was sitting against a cargo container. Unlike the other two, Harris had his back to the container, and he was clutching his knees to his chest.

Of course. Tasha thought to herself.

Harris had served in the Border War with the Cardassians.

"Lieutenant Harris," she called out. "This isn't real. It's just a memory."

They weren't going to be able to hold this position indefinitely.

She took a deep breath and raced across the cargo bay to reach her team.

Tasha knelt down next to Harris.

"They came out of nowhere," Gomez cried.

"Harris," Tasha said. "Harris, I need you to focus."

Gomez cried out as a blast hit him in the arm.

"Jeffords, Gomez, get out of here!" she ordered.

"I-I-I can't," Jeffords said.

He was terrified.

Tasha realised this wasn't working. She knew she had to put distance between him and the space that had triggered the memory.

But she had no idea how to physically put distance between Harris and something in his mind.

Harris flinched when Tasha took his hand.

"You're safe," she assured him. "You're on the Enterprise and you're safe."

"I can't stop them," Harris said.

His eyes were squeezed shut as he rocked back and forth.

"Look at me, Elliot," she said.

He opened his eyes.

"You're safe. We're all safe," she said in a soothing voice. "You are not alone."

She instructed him as he breathed, but it wasn't making a difference.

Feeling she was out of options, Tasha decided to take a risk.

She set her phaser to the lightest stun setting and hit Harris.

The weapons fire stopped.

"I'm still shot!" Gomez cried out, his voice full of alarm.

He'd taken a disruptor blast to the arm and Tasha knew they wouldn't have time to rush to Sickbay.

"Yar to transporter room," Tasha said as she tapped her combadge. "Four to beam to Sickbay immediately."


"Is something wrong?" Worf asked as he eyed Tasha.

"No," Tasha lied.

Worf gave her a disbelieving look.

"There was an incident in the cargo bay. Harris thought he was back serving in the Border War. Gomez took a disruptor blast to the arm. Indirect hit. Probably saved his life," Tasha said.

Worf's eyes narrowed. He wasn't buying her excuse.

"There is something else," Worf remarked.

They were seated across from one another in the canteen. They usually met for lunch, and both felt that it was important to continue working as if nothing were unusual.

The two shared the feeling of comfort in routine.

Tasha shook her head.

For the last few minutes, she had been staring at nothing.

Worf was alarmed by the blank look on her face. It wasn't like her to lose concentration.

"Tasha?" Worf prompted a little louder.

Tasha looked at him, down to her plate, and then back to Worf.

"Sorry, Worf," she said. "What did you ask?"

"You are distracted by something," he commented.

"I'm not hungry," she said in a faraway voice.

Worf cocked his eyebrow as he looked at her sceptically.

"Since when?" he asked sarcastically.

She had to admit, it wasn't one of her better excuses. Tasha was always hungry – didn't matter the time, place, or food being offered.

"Just not feeling lunch," she repeated.

Worf's face turned sour.

"You nearly bit off my hand when we were stuck on Quiros II during that sandstorm," Worf commented. "I thought you were going to eat your boots."

Tasha picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of courgette. She popped it in her mouth and shrugged at him.

"Better?" she asked after swallowing it.

She reached for a cup of water and took a long drink.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Ensign Walsh being in the brig, does it?" Worf questioned.

Tasha choked as she drank her water.

"No," she sputtered as she coughed, regaining her breath.

"What did he do this time?" Worf said.

"You know how he is," Tasha said casually, hoping to dismiss the conversation.

Worf was well aware of Walsh's personal record of having numerous infractions involving his treatment of other crew members. He also knew full well that Tasha had been desperate to hold Walsh accountable. Several months earlier, Worf had sat Walsh down for a one-on-one chat and told him to shape up or get out of security.

Walsh had treated the experience as if it were a farce.

"How long do you intend to keep him there? I noticed the report was kept confidential," Worf said.

Tasha was trying to keep her thoughts focused on anything other than Walsh.

She couldn't have another flashback.

Not now.

She dropped her fork as she could taste blood in her mouth.

Looking down, Tasha noticed there was a hastily extinguished firepit where her plate had previously been.

She closed her eyes as she listened to the footfalls behind her.

Tasha jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"T?" Miles O'Brien asked as he slid into the seat next to her. "You alright?"

"Fine," she said as she caught her breath.

"This place has all of us jumpy," Miles said as he observed her reaction.

"Right," Tasha said distantly.

She stood up.

"Worf, can you please let security teams C, G, and K know that we'll have a briefing at 13:00 in the Observation Lounge?" Tasha asked.

"Yes, of course," he replied.

"Thanks," she said strangely. "I'll see you there."


Down in the brig, Ensign Walsh smiled as he saw his best friend Armando Gomez step into the room.

He got up from the bed and stepped over to the shield protecting the cell.

"What the hell happened to you?" Gomez asked as he approached Walsh's cell.

"I could ask you the same thing," Walsh replied as he pointed to Gomez's arm in a healing sleeve.

Gomez shrugged.

"Let's just say it's lucky you get to ride this out down here. Relaxing while the rest of us are out there getting shot at. Harris had some kind of flashback," Gomez informed him. "I don't know what we would have done if Lieutenant Yar hadn't come in."

Walsh's ears perked up.

"Well, she's quite adept with a phaser," Walsh said bitterly. "Plucky little cunt, isn't she?"

Walsh sighed and sat back down on the bed along the wall.

"What did you do this time?" Gomez said with a grin.

"Paid her a compliment and she stunned me," Walsh said innocently.

He looked at the wall and then back to Gomez.

"Sounds about right," Gomez laughed.

"I need your help, Armando. Man to man," Walsh said quietly. "I need you to back me up."

He got up quickly and walked back toward the forcefield.

"All that stuff you heard about her on the Crazy Horse, I need to know you're willing to repeat it. In an inquiry, if necessary," Walsh said. "And your buddy, Lewis. The one that served with her. I need you to talk to him too."

"Maybe?" Gomez shrugged, not following his friend's train of thought. "Why?"

"Because she came on to me, you follow?" Walsh said. "She's always coming on to me. You and Lewis too. Tell Jeffords, Harris. Anyone we trust. And when I turned her down, she shot me."

"Are you sure about this?" Gomez asked, feeling hesitant.

"Think about it," Walsh said. "Why would she ask me to specifically accompany her alone? She put me in that position. She's always trying to split up our shift!"

Gomez nodded.

"She's going to reassign all of us if we don't stop her," Walsh went on. "Do you want to be transferred off the Enterprise?"

Gomez's throat grew tight. It felt wrong, but he really didn't want to be reassigned. The Enterprise was the dream of a lifetime. And it was true – Lieutenant Yar had often tried to break up the group known as the 'beta shift boys.'

To Gomez, it wasn't fair.

"Alright, I'll talk to Jeffords and the others," Gomez agreed. "But it will have to wait. We've got a briefing in an hour."

"I've got an idea, but I need your help," Walsh said darkly.


An hour later, the Security team were seated in the Observation Lounge awaiting the start of their afternoon briefing.

Given the recent rise in Security incidents, Captain Picard and Deanna had opted to join this briefing in person.

"We'll be setting up mobile deflectors at the spaces marked on this image," Tasha explained, indicating to the presentation on the viewscreen.

Tasha tapped to move along to the next slide and laughter rippled through the room.

Captain Picard's eyes grew wide, and Worf cleared his throat.

"Whoa, that's sure not you know who," one of the junior lieutenants sniggered.

"You mean Lieutenant Com-" the man next to him started to say but the junior lieutenant elbowed him in the ribs to silence him.

Tasha turned back to the viewscreen. To her disappointment, the next image of her presentation had been replaced by a picture of a hand holding a piece of intimate and erect male anatomy.

Tasha immediately deactivated the viewscreen.

She wanted to snap. She had a feeling she knew exactly who was responsible.

But she didn't want to give them the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her.

They wanted a reaction.

Deanna watched her carefully as she could sense the mixture of emotions coming from her friend.

"Alright, I know this crisis has been difficult for all of us," Tasha said with a forced calm demeanour. "And I'm sure one of you thought this would lighten the mood. But I want to make perfectly clear this kind of thing is not appropriate and if it happens again, I'll be conducting a full investigation."

In the very back of the room, Ensign Jeffords looked at Ensign Gomez.

Gomez smiled and brought his fingers to his lips to warn Jeffords to be quiet.

'Later' he mouthed to Jeffords.

Their interaction did not go unnoticed by the keen eyes of Captain Picard.

Tasha flipped to the next slide on her PADD and was disgusted to see it was an equally inappropriate image.

She resigned herself that the remainder of the presentation would have to be done verbally.

Once they concluded, she dismissed her team to get geared up and meet back in twenty minutes. Deanna, Captain Picard, and Worf remained behind.

"Sir, I apologise for the incident during the briefing," Tasha said quickly as soon as her team was gone.

"It's quite alright, Lieutenant," Picard assured her. "I know that wasn't your fault. And I trust you will look into it."

"You don't have to," Deanna said, reading Tasha's feelings. "You already know who is responsible."

"Just an inkling," Tasha said with a shrug. "I'm sure it was just an immature attempt to-"

"This also isn't the first time it's happened and you're angry because you feel like you can't do anything about it. You're feeling trapped," Deanna said aloud.

Tasha looked scandalised.

"I'm fine," she said sharply.

"Lieutenant Worf, I'd like you to conduct a full investigation of this incident," Captain Picard ordered.

Tasha grabbed her PADD and began angrily swiping through the presentation. She knew exactly who had hijacked it, she just didn't know how he'd managed to do it from the brig.

Tasha surmised Gomez was somehow involved, but she didn't have any proof.

And she absolutely didn't want Worf or anyone else getting involved in it.

She kept her eyes on the device. She couldn't look at the other officers at the moment. She was too upset – at Walsh and Gomez for their actions, with Deanna for telling the room how she felt, and with Captain Picard for asking Worf to look into the problem.

"I can handle this, sir," Tasha said frustrated.

"Lieutenant, I would like Lieutenant Worf to look into this incident as it involved your device," Captain Picard. "While I have no doubt that this is some foolish prank in which you share no responsibility, it remains that it was your device that was used."

Tasha scowled as she continued to swipe through the images on the screen. Someone – likely Walsh, or Gomez at Walsh's instruction – had uploaded a plethora of lewd images onto her PADD.

As she flipped to the next image, she frowned. She felt like she wanted to vomit. It was a crude drawing of her on her knees with the caption 'please Drew.'

Tasha couldn't stand Drew Walsh.

"No need, they left a signature," Tasha said bitterly.

Worf cocked his head to the side, wordlessly asking for confirmation that it was who he suspected.

"For the time being, I'd like to take care of this on my own, sir," Tasha said.

Captain Picard and Counsellor Troi shared a glance.

He had a feeling the reason she didn't want anyone else privy to the information was because it wasn't a prank – it was part of the ongoing harassment that Ensign Walsh was behind.

Suddenly, Deanna turned her head to Tasha as she sensed a sharp spike in the feeling of sadness.

Tasha stopped scrolling as her eyes settled on the image on the screen of her PADD.

It was evident that whoever had uploaded the images had done so hastily.

Because she was certain this is one image she wasn't supposed to see.

"Tasha, what is it?" Deanna asked. "What's on the screen?"

Tasha's heart sank as she read down the list of names.

It was the betting pool.

The pool she had only heard rumours of for months.

Over a third of her security team were listed as participants.

Do that many of them think I'm nothing more than a joke? She thought cynically.

She felt betrayed.

Tasha had already had her own healthy share of self-doubt regarding her role aboard the Enterprise. It was unheard of for someone her age to hold such a prominent position. In her opinion, it had been sheer dumb luck that Jean-Luc Picard happened upon her in that Carnelian minefield.

The first year of her posting had been difficult – especially when working with some of the older security personnel that had felt passed over.

Tasha had worked twice as hard to prove herself.

Now, she felt uncertain.

If a third of her team didn't respect her, it could cause her fellow officers to lose their confidence in her abilities.

She had already had to try and rebuild her reputation once because of a bitter man's retaliation. Tasha had no desire to repeat the experience.

"It's nothing," Tasha insisted as she felt her eyes start to water.

"Lieutenant," Captain Picard said.

"I can take care of this, sir," Tasha contended. "They're just a little on edge."

Her face felt hot. She felt like she was losing control of everything.

"Tasha, please give me the PADD," Picard ordered.

Tasha looked at his outstretched hand. More than anything she didn't want him to see it.

But she knew she couldn't disobey an order.

She closed her eyes and handed over the device.

"We need to get ready," she said quickly as she stood up and started for the door.

"Captain, the Traveller is awake," Beverly's voice rang out from the communication system.

Everyone froze.

"Lieutenant, I'm going to ask you to delay your next assignment until we know what the Traveller has to say," Picard ordered. "Have your team stand down."

"Yes, sir," Tasha nodded. "Worf, I'll inform the team and let's meet back in the Security Office."

"Lieutenant, why don't you head back to your quarters for the time being. I'll contact you once we know more," Picard said. "Lieutenant Worf can inform your team of the change to the itinerary."

"You're putting me off duty?" Tasha snapped angrily.

"Lieutenant, I'd just like you to take a break for a little while until we know more," Picard said. "Take a nap, read a book, do something for the next hour and-" Captain Picard started to say but Tasha cut him off.

"I am doing my job, sir," Tasha said as she raised her voice.

"Tasha, the Captain is not doubting your abilities," Deanna assured her as she sensed Tasha's fear of loss of control. "He just wants you to take a small break."

"A short break, Lieutenant," Picard said. "That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Tasha said through gritted teeth.

She left without another word and headed straight for her quarters.

"Counsellor?" Picard asked.

"Tasha feels like she isn't in control," Deanna explained. "She's very uncomfortable right now. It's not just the crisis. There's something else."

"Sir, there was an incident yesterday involving Ensign Drew Walsh," Worf offered. "I am unaware of the details. Lieutenant Yar filed the necessary report paperwork. And sealed it."

His thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Tasha earlier that morning.

"Tasha, what happened?" Picard asked.

"One crisis at a time, sir," Tasha answered with a smile.

Captain Picard tapped her PADD to get a look at the last screen.

He frowned.

He swiped back to the previous image and felt a surge of disappointment and anger as he eyed the vulgar drawing.

It was harassment – plain and simple.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Picard replied to Worf. "Hold off on investigating this for now. I'd like to see to this personally."

"Captain! The Traveller is awake but he's very weak," Beverly's voice rang out from his combadge.

"On my way, Doctor," Picard advised as he tapped his communicator to respond.

The minute Tasha stepped into her quarters she set a level one security lock on her door and started crying.

She was so angry with the entire situation.

More than that, she was embarrassed she had acted that way in front of the Captain.

But it wasn't fair.

She could do her job.

And she could do it well.

The Enterprise was in a crisis, and she felt like she had been taken off duty because of her own inability to control her emotions.

Tasha paced back and forth furiously as she ran her hands through her hair.

They were just memories.

When did this become about Turkana? A little voice in her head said.

Tasha stopped pacing and took a deep breath.

This wasn't about her past - this was about Walsh.

She had to keep her mind focused and find a solution. It was vital that she figure out how to deal with the Walsh problem without losing any more face with her security team.

Whatever her course of action, Tasha felt it had to be discreet. She wasn't sure she could live with any more of the officers or her team finding out what had happened.

It was necessary for a security chief to project strength and fortitude.

She couldn't be a victim. It would destroy the confidence her staff had in her.

Suddenly, her chest felt tight. She felt like such a hypocrite. There was no shame in having trauma.

Yet here she was attempting to figure out a way to sweep the situation with Walsh under the rug because she was afraid she would feel ashamed if anyone found out.

Tasha clenched and unclenched her fists.

She groaned aloud. She had to get control of her thoughts, or she'd spiral right back to the floor of that cave.

The cave.

The smell of motor oil.

Tasha squatted down and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to push the thought of that day from her mind.

"Over here!" one of the bandits called out.

She shook her head.

"This isn't real," she said aloud.

She heard her cat Speckle meow and brush up against her leg.

"What do we have here?" one of the men said slowly as he pushed against her shoulder.

She could hear them circling her.

"Looks like a drowned rat," another one said as he kicked her.

"Pretty cute for a drowned rat," the first one stated.

"You know it's dangerous to travel alone," the second one said in a low voice.

She could feel his breath against her ear.

"Maybe that's what she's looking for?" the third man laughed, inches from her face.

Tasha hissed as one of them grabbed the back of her neck.

What can I feel? Tasha asked as she attempted to calm herself down.

She stretched out her hand and felt the cold floor of the cave.

I know that's wrong. I know I'm in my quarters. She reminded herself.

She counted to four, inhaling and exhaling deeply as she felt the hand on her neck forcing her head to the floor.

These are your quarters. The same quarters you've had for two years. You're safe. You woke up here with Data this morning. Tasha tried to keep her thoughts laser focused. Just think about Data.

Without warning, the hand on her neck disappeared.

Tasha released the breath she'd been holding and opened her eyes.

She was lying face down on the carpet in the main room of her quarters. From this angle she could see her door and the base of the replicator.

She was covered in a cold sweat. Tasha wiped her face with her sleeve and crawled up to her feet.

She needed a shower.

Yeah. That's perfect. She said to soothe herself – wash away the sweat and grime and memories.

A moment later, she stepped into her shower and felt a wave of relief as the water hit her skin.

Tasha let her back hit the cool tile of the wall and closed her eyes.

She slid down along the wall until she hit the floor.

Tasha pulled her knees up to her chest, rested her chin on them, and let herself dissociate from the universe.


Captain Picard left Sickbay in disbelief.

In his short conversation with the Traveller, the mysterious alien had revealed there was a way home. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was their only chance.

And it would require all of the goodwill and positive energy they could muster.

Unfortunately, that was a commodity in short supply.

Deanna had been overwhelmed with people seeking counselling services the last few days.

The Engineering team was exhausted. Riker had been pulling double-duty since the start of the crisis. Sickbay was full.

And then there was Tasha.

It scared him sometimes how much that woman was so like a young Jean-Luc.

He'd pulled heavy strings to get her on his crew.

In time, she'd proven that his instincts were correct.

She wasn't just a protégé, she was probably the closest thing he would ever have to a daughter.

An unsettling feeling took root in the pit of his stomach. They would have to confront the situation with Walsh sooner or later.

Following the sage advice of his protégé, Jean-Luc decided to focus on one crisis at a time.

Jean-Luc tapped his combadge.

"Lieutenant Yar, please report to the Bridge," he ordered. "We're going home."


The turbolift doors opened and Data caught sight of Tasha as she stepped onto the Bridge.

He noted that her face and hands appeared unusually red and puffy.

Data cocked his head to the side as he looked at her.

Tasha caught his eyes briefly and gave him a short nod.

"All decks, battle stations," Picard ordered. "I must have your full attention. In a few moments we will attempt to warp back home. It is vital, absolutely vital, that you concentrate all your thoughts on your duty and on returning home."

Captain Picard ordered Geordi to set in a course at warp one point five.

"Warp one point five, retroactive to six one mark three one, sir," Geordi replied as he punched in the appropriate heading and speed.

"Engage," Picard ordered as he pointed to the viewscreen.

They all held their breath as the Enterprise lurched forward and they began to move.

The images on the viewscreen began to move faster and faster. The colours and objects blurred as they reached the extreme speed that had brought them to the mysterious edge of the universe.

And then it stopped.

"Warp one point five, sir. Which is what my instruments have read all along," Data advised.

"And our position reads exactly what it was before this sleigh ride began!" Geordi said brightly.

Captain Picard breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lieutenant Yar, cease Red Alert," he ordered.

With great relief, Tasha deactivated the Red Alert.

To everyone's amusement, the use of Geordi's colloquialism had been lost on Data.

"Sleigh ride?" he asked as he attempted to understand the reference.


At 15:00, the alpha shift was relieved by the next incoming shift.

Data and Tasha caught a turbolift together off the Bridge.

Data headed off to Main Engineering to study all the available information they had on the situation with the Traveller.

Tasha grudgingly made her way to deck nine where she would be assisting Deanna with counselling sessions. She had been dreading it all day.

Although they had managed to return home, counselling sessions remained in high demand. The entire experience had left many of the crew in need of speaking with a trained professional.

"You showered again," Data commented as he looked at her skin.

"And?" she asked.

"Is that not unusual?" he responded as he attempted to understand.

"Just been running around a lot today," she said. "Was feeling grimy."

It was partially true.

Data took hold of her hand and examined it.

"Your skin is irritated," he observed.

Without warning, he pushed her sleeve up her forearm. He frowned as he saw how red her skin was.

Tasha pulled her arm back sharply and quickly replaced her sleeve, cursing her pale skin.

"Computer halt," Data ordered.

"Data," she sighed, frustrated.

"I am concerned for your wellbeing," he explained.

"I snapped at Captain Picard, and I am so embarrassed with myself," she admitted. "I had another flashback. I just needed to do this, Data. I'm sorry you can't understand."

He could see she was deeply bothered.

"I'm so ashamed of myself," she described. "I never should let him get the upper hand. And now everyone thinks I'm inept. I've lost the confidence of my team. A third of my security staff thinks I'm a joke."

She pinched the Bridge of her nose in annoyance.

"Tasha?" Data asked softly. "May I hug you?"

She nodded slowly and stepped into the embrace.

"You wouldn't have let this happen. Commander Riker never would have found himself in that position," she scoffed. "And Worf sure as hell wouldn't have walked into that. Gods Captain Picard must be so disappointed in me."

"The captain has often expressed his confidence in your job performance," Data said in an attempt to reassure her. "Were you not the one he requested specifically for this assignment?"

Tasha took a deep breath. She knew Data was right.

"I just thought I left all that behind, you know?" she asked rhetorically. "Sometimes I wish I could be as strong as you are."

"You are," he said simply.


Meanwhile, Jean-Luc retired to his ready room.

After pouring a cuppa Earl Grey, he sat down at his desk.

His eyes fell on the PADD he had taken from Lieutenant Yar earlier. Jean-Luc now understood completely why she had been unenthusiastic to share it with him.

It was a betting pool – an obscene betting pool involving Lieutenant Yar and Lieutenant Commander Data.

Worse than that, it was evident that an alarming number of her security staff were involved.

Jean-Luc felt himself growing flustered as he considered that so many of the members of his crew would readily engage in such indecent behaviour.

It was unbecoming of an officer.

He swiped to the next page to see if there was more information.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" he said aloud.

It was a video personal log file.

Curious, Jean-Luc pressed play.

"Tell Tristan what happened!" a voice said that Captain Picard recognised as Ensign Armando Gomez.

"Alright, alright," Ensign Walsh said. "So, we're at this Edo lodge before everything went to hell. And there was that big storm. About three hours after it starts, they show up. Just the two of them. Alone."

There was a low whistle in the background.

"About twenty minutes later, I decide I'm going to take advantage of these fantastic steam baths they've got. I walk in and can't believe my eyes. She's there," Walsh explains.

"Shut up!" Ensign Tristan Lewis said. "No way."

"True story," Walsh insists. "Not only is she there. She isn't alone."

"So, you walk in on them? Big deal," Lewis shrugged. "Is the phrase 'smooth as an android's bottom' really accurate?"

Jean-Luc didn't like where this conversation was heading.

He could see in the video file the young Ensigns were drinking. He watched as they passed around a bottle of what appeared to be contraband Romulan ale.

Add that to the list of charges. He thought as he made a mental note of it.

It was evident from the context they were talking about the Enterprise's trip to the Edo planet. Even though Jean-Luc was aware of a number of instances with Ensign Walsh and Lieutenant Yar, he was not aware that anything had taken place during their shore leave.

This was new information.

Reluctantly, Jean-Luc kept watching.

"It wasn't him," Walsh said scandalously. "It was one of those Edo chicks. Lip-locked. Naked as the day she was born. Tried to cover herself up too but God she's stacked."

"Speaking of which, you still owe me," Harris said as he nudged Gomez. "Told you she had a sapphic side."

"No, you didn't," Gomez said, not comprehending. "You said she was into chicks."

"Sometimes I wonder how the hell you passed the academy," Harris replied.

Jean-Luc's mouth grew thin. He wondered how any of them had managed to pass the Academy when it was obvious they were so ill-suited to serve.

"I could have had a nice show if the android hadn't shown up," Walsh went on. "He rolled in all hot and heavy. Threw me into a wall."

"We ran into him the next morning and he was pretty irked when we mentioned it," Gomez added. "Told him he was a machine with the ladies, and he got real funny about it."

"Machine is right. Was there three days. Never saw her once," Harris said. "As angry as he was with us, bet he fucked her so hard she couldn't walk."

"I'm telling you, more than once she's come into the security office after spending the night in his quarters and her steps are tender if you know what I mean," Walsh sniggered.

Captain Picard was disgusted. He knew that young Ensigns were prone to inappropriate pranks and occasional unprofessional behaviour.

But this wasn't a joke.

It was harassment.

"I'm not surprised," Lewis commented. "Served with her six months on the Crazy Horse. You wouldn't believe the stories I heard. Gagging for it. My buddy Paxton hooked up with her. Said she liked it rough. Real transactional. No cuddling. Just down and dirty and then get out."

"Makes sense," Gomez said as he took a swig of the blue liquid. "She's about as soft as a duranium hull."

"That's probably why she likes him," Lewis commented. "Her own sentient sex toy. No emotions. No feelings. He's the perfect companion."

"Can you imagine it? It's probably like when the blades of the gravity generator fall out of alignment," Harris laughed. "Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk."

He proceeded to make the rude noise accompanied by an obscene gesture.

"Alright, alright. So, you kind of saw her once," Lewis scoffed. "That's hardly the same as getting up close and personal."

Walsh grinned mischievously.

"Oh c'mon! Now you're just making things up!" Lewis sneered.

"It's the truth!" Gomez said vouching for Walsh. "She fought back. Got him good, too."

"It was worth it," Walsh said as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Jean-Luc pursed his lips. If this were true, it was also news to him.

Tasha had kept him in the loop regarding Walsh's numerous infractions against various other crew members – and what he thought was nothing more than occasional insubordinate behaviour.

She had never mentioned the details of this physical harassment.

"We were having a drink at Ten Forward," Harris explained. "And she comes in alone."

"Wearing this tight little jumpsuit," Gomez went on. "Sits at the bar by herself all night."

"So, I caught her in the lift on her way out," Walsh said. "Pretended I was a little too tipsy to stand up. Drop my combadge and when she bent over to get it – BAM!"

Walsh slapped his hands together.

"Got her up against the wall of the lift. Told her we both knew why she was really there. Why she wore that little number. Only one thing she was after and I was happy to help her with it," Walsh said in a predatory voice. "She was dazed. Took her a minute to realise what was happening. And you can bet I used that full minute to my advantage."

"No way that happened," Lewis said in disbelief.

"True story!" Harris claimed. "She threw him in the brig for public drunkenness."

"Check the brig records. And I've never seen her out of uniform since," Gomez finished for him.

Appalled, Jean-Luc stopped the video log replay.

He'd seen more than enough.

Jean-Luc recalled Worf's comment regarding a sealed report filed the day before.

Security logs could be sealed from public consumption, but the Captain always retained access.

"Computer, please access the sealed security report for Walsh, Ensign Drew," Picard asked aloud.

"Please specify which sealed security report for Walsh, Ensign Drew J. by stardate," the computer responded.

There's more than one. Picard's eyes grew wide as he sat back in his chair.

He needed to speak with Lieutenant Yar.

But first, he had something he needed to attend to.

"Computer," Picard commanded. "I would like you to begin audio recording all audio within cell 1A of the brig where Ensign Walsh is being held."

It was obvious Walsh had been behind the incident in the security briefing. Clearly, he was also in league with at least one other co-conspirator in order to orchestrate his latest act. Furthermore, it was evident that they weren't terribly bright, or they wouldn't have left evidence of themselves on the PADD.

Now, he just needed to wait for them to expose themselves.

Hopefully, it would be the last nail in the coffin of the career of Ensign Drew Walsh.


Down in the brig, Ensigns Jeffords and Gomez were standing outside of Ensign Walsh's cell.

Walsh had requested Gomez bring Jeffords down to see him.

"How'd she like it?" Walsh grinned as he approached the forefield.

"You shouldn't have done that," Jeffords said angrily.

"It's a joke, Jeffords," Walsh hissed. "Relax."

"I don't think it's funny," Jeffords snapped. "And I don't think I want to be a part of this anymore."

This had gone too far, and he was suddenly very uncomfortable.

"I don't want any part of this anymore," he repeated as he shook his hands.

"My grandfather can get you any assignment you want," Walsh warned. "And if you cross me. I can make sure your service in Starfleet is a living hell."

Jeffords shook his head.

"I'm sorry I ever thought you guys were my friends," he said sadly.

"Don't walk out that door!" Walsh shouted as Jeffords exited the brig.

Gomez and Walsh exchanged a glance.

Walsh nodded.

Gomez tapped his combadge.

"Harris, looks like we'll be one short at poker," Gomez said.

It was a coded signal they had worked out in anticipation of Jeffords's refusal to join their plan.

Walsh knew he was the weak link in the group, and he was ready to teach him a lesson.


Fifteen minutes later, Ensign Tobey Jeffords reached his quarters.

He felt terrible.

It had hurt to turn his back on the guys that had readily welcomed him when he had first joined the ship.

But there had been too many instances in which he felt uneasy with the things they did – especially when it came to their treatment of other crew members.

It wasn't just Lieutenant Yar and Commander Data. Walsh and his gang had been awful to many of the crew. They harassed women, mocked Lieutenant Worf, had pulled a series of cruel pranks on a fellow Bolian security officer, relentlessly bullied a Bajoran engineer, and physically assaulted an Andorian waiter during their shore leave to Risa.

When the doors slid open to his quarters, Jeffords stopped in his tracks.

He gasped as he looked around.

Every inch of the space had been ruined.

The glass table was smashed in. His mattress was slashed. The drawers were tossed.

Like most Starfleet officers, he had few personal belongings. but the ones he did have were quite valuable to him.

Jeffords sat down on the floor.

He'd gotten their message.

He'd heard it loud and clear.

At 19:00, Deanna concluded her last session for the day. She got up and knocked softly at the adjacent office.

"Come in," Tasha called out.

"How did it go?" Deanna asked as she took a seat across from Tasha.

"Fine," Tasha nodded. "Same time tomorrow?"

She had conducted twelve counselling sessions. They were making a dent in the backlog, but she knew they had a long way to go.

"Yes," Deanna smiled.

A part of her wanted to tell Tasha that she only wanted her back if she felt up to it. But Deanna could sense Tasha was desperate to pour herself into work. Tasha needed it.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" Deanna asked.

Tasha sat back against the chair as she considered Deanna's offer.

She did want to talk about it.

Tasha understood how important therapy was.

But she also knew just how overwhelmed Deanna was – it wasn't just the hours, it was the entire emotional toll of her empath abilities surrounded by so much fear and anxiety.

Tasha took Deanna's hand.

"At some point we will," Tasha assured her. "But not right now."

The door chimed. Tasha and Deanna looked at one another.

"Come in," Deanna called out.

Ensign Tobey Jeffords stepped in shyly, stopping just inside the door.

"I was wondering if I could speak to Lieutenant Yar," he said nervously as shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Alone."


"Come to gloat?" Walsh said.

He was laying on his back on the bed in his cell. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lieutenant Yar standing at the edge of his cell in front of the forcefield.

"I came to inform you that the incident that happened earlier today will be added to the report I've filed," Tasha stated.

She had an obligation to inform him of his charges.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about, sir," Walsh said innocently. "I have been locked in the brig for over twenty-four hours."

"Ensign, the next time you ask one of your friends to commit a crime for you, you should probably make sure they don't leave your signature all over it," Tasha said in a calm, steady voice. "He uploaded the entire folder, not just the file I believe you intended to plant."

Walsh's face went pale.

Gomez, you idiot! Walsh said himself.

He was seething.

Walsh closed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

"Goodnight, Ensign," Lieutenant Yar said.

"Oh, Lieutenant?" Walsh said.

Tasha stopped.

"I wanted to let you know that I received a response from my grandfather. You know, Admiral Walsh," Ensign Walsh said.

Tasha didn't turn around.

"I managed to get a subspace communication to him once we returned. And wouldn't you know? Luck would have it that he's in the area," Walsh said.

Tasha took a sharp breath.

She knew that she would have to deal with Admiral Josiah Walsh at some point.

She just hadn't expected it to be so soon.

Tasha turned around slowly, working to maintain her poise.

"Ensign, as I said, you will be held responsible for your actions," she stated simply. "Your behaviour has demonstrated conduct unbecoming a Starfleet officer. It is not only unprofessional, but your distraction and inability to focus also presents a danger to the crew."

"See, he was quite upset to learn that his grandson had been attacked," Walsh said as he sat up. "After all that is what happened, Lieutenant."

Tasha scoffed.

"You came after me. You've had a thing for me for months," Walsh said cruelly as he walked toward the forefield. "And I've begged you to stop. To leave me alone. It's not right. And it's against regulations."

She wasn't going to listen to this fantasy.

"Everyone knows. The other members of the security team have seen it. They're afraid too," he went on. "You've got quite the reputation for abusing the power of your position. Assigning Gomez to scrub carbon for a month because he wouldn't sleep with you. Putting Harris on report because he asked you to stop groping him."

"That's a lie," Tasha said darkly.

"Is it?" Walsh asked rhetorically. "I'm the victim here, Lieutenant. You have no idea how many people I can get to say you're a problem, Lieutenant. A predator. Behaviour unbecoming of an officer."

He reached the edge of the forefield and smirked.

"And the best part is, you can't even defend yourself," Walsh snickered. "What would you say? It's all a lie because you're shagging the Second Officer? In and of itself a violation of Regulation 1138. Who do you think they're going to believe?"

Tasha's chest grew tight.

"My grandfather and what I promise will be an extensive investigation?" Walsh cautioned. "Or a Security Chief that's too young for her job who's only excuse is that she couldn't have been harassing her officers because she was too busy bending over for her commanding officer?"

Tasha felt like she'd been knocked back by a punch to the gut.

"A commanding officer, I might add, that isn't even a real person," Walsh grinned, twisting the metaphorical knife.

Instinctively, Tasha took a step back.

"You're not going to win this, Lieutenant," he warned her. "But I tell you what? Drop the charges. Drop the shield to this cell. And then drop on your knees, open your mouth, and I'm sure we can come to an equitable agreement."

Tasha didn't know what else to say.

She just wanted to get away from him.

She turned and made for the door to the brig.

"If you don't drop these charges, you can bet your cute little arse you'll be assigned to some lonely outpost on the edge of the neutral zone," Walsh shouted after her. "And your boyfriend won't be there to help you."

Tasha stepped out into the corridor and took off toward the left.

She had no particular direction in mind, she just needed to get away from the brig.

She hadn't made it three steps when her combadge went off.

"Lieutenant Yar, please report to my ready room," Captain Picard ordered.

"Right away, sir," she responded.

She had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what his request was regarding.


Later that evening, Data stepped into Tasha's quarters and was greeted by the sound of music coming from the computer audio system.

He could hear the shower was running.

His android auditory receptors also allowed him to pick up on the faint sound of a voice.

Tasha was singing.

He looked around the main room of her quarters.

Her boots had been tossed carelessly as if she had kicked them off.

Data picked them up and set them next to the door.

The lights were off, but the door to the lavvy was open and there was a soft light spilling out from it.

As he stepped over to the door, his informational bank identified the tune.

Jazz Swing. Earth.

Early twentieth century.

Billie Holiday.

"No, no. They can't take that away from me," she sang softly.

It was evident from the sound of her voice that she had been drinking.

Data opened the door to the shower and found Tasha sitting against the wall. She had one leg pulled up against her chest and was resting her chin on her knee as she swirled a glass of tawny liquid.

On the tile floor of the shower there was a bottle of whisky with a significant dent in it.

"Tasha?" Data asked gently.

She looked up and smiled.

Tasha sat up and let her head fall back against the tile wall. She raised her glass, sloshing the contents out as she did so.

"They can't take that away from me," she sang louder.

Her meeting with Captain Picard hadn't gone well. As she had predicted, there was hell to pay for taking action against Ensign Walsh.

Retaliation in the form of charges against both Tasha and Data had already been filed courtesy of one Admiral Josiah Walsh – grandfather of the Ensign in the Brig.

While Captain Picard had ample evidence to counter his claims of being victimised by Tasha, the more troubling fact was that Tasha and Data were facing charges for violating Regulation 1138 – AKA the anti-fraternisation policy.

On Tasha's request, Captain Picard had left it to her to notify Data.

Tasha tried to stand up but lost her footing.

Data caught her and she giggled.

He helped her find her footing as she turned to look at him.

"The way your smile just beams," she sang in a hazy voice. "The way you sing off key."

She buried her face against his chest.

"You never sing off key," she said as she swayed.

Data tightened his grip to keep her upright.

"You're all wet," Tasha said. "Baby, you're supposed to put your uniform on after you shower."

She chuckled against his torso, amused by the thought.

Data opened his mouth to respond, to explain that this was not a matter of him failing to understand human behaviour but thought better of it.

"You are correct," he replied simply as he tried to take the glass from her hand.

She tried to pull it out of his reach, but his android reflexes were too quick.

They were at a standoff – Tasha holding the glass and Data holding her hand around it.

"Please give me the glass," he requested.

"Fine," she grumbled.

He released her hand. To his dissatisfaction, she tried to slam the drink before handing it back to him.

"Ah, ah. No," he said as he tried to pull it away from her.

He let out a small sound of disapproval as the whisky spilled out of the tumbler and all over her.

"Can you stand on your own for a moment?" he inquired.

"Obviously," she said as she narrowed her eyes and poked his chest.

Data took the glass from her hand and set it on the counter behind him.

When he turned back, she had taken a flannel off the hook in the shower and was furiously scrubbing at her chest.

Data put out a hand and caught her wrist to stop her.

He pulled her arm away to get a better look.

Tasha turned her head away and sighed, frustrated.

For a moment, he stared as he assessed the evidence of what he had feared.

Her skin was red, inflamed and marred from where she had already scrubbed it raw.

Wordlessly, Data took the flannel from her and very gently washed away the whisky that had spilled, mindful of her tender skin.

"The next time you feel compelled to shower, I would please like you to tell me," he said. "As I intend to join you."

He lightly traced the flannel down the length of her left arm and quietly cleaned each of her fingers before turning his attention to her other arm.

Suddenly, she felt very small.

Tasha had felt so great only a moment before – enjoying not just the music, but also the dreamy feeling of her drunken state.

"What then? So, you wash me like I'm some helpless-" she said bitterly before trailing off.

"That is my intention," he admitted.

"Am I that pathetic?" she asked.

"Not at all," he replied as he cleaned the back of her neck. "Perhaps I find this enjoyable."

"Don't lie to me," she replied idly.

He stopped. Data cupped her face and looked at her seriously.

"Tasha, you either do not fully grasp that you are not indestructible, or, as I suspect is more likely the case, you do not care," Data confessed. "And that terrifies me."

Despite her intoxication, she could see in his body language that he was struggling to put words to what he was feeling. Although he had made great strides, the idea of naming and exploring his emotions was still a new step.

"The thought of not having your presence if something were to happen to you is one that I can only describe as emptiness," Data said in a low voice, barely above a whisper.

He pulled her against him as he collected his thoughts.

They stayed like that for a moment, motionless and silent aside from the sound of the water.

"Therefore, yes," he told her. "It is my intention to do this until you can learn to be gentle with yourself."

He brushed the top of her head with a kiss.

"Data, that's not practical," she protested. "Between your schedule and mine, how long do you really think you can keep that up?"

"As long as it takes," he said sincerely.


Once he was satisfied with his work, Data shut off the tap and scooped her up.

She pouted when she heard his water-logged boots make contact with the floor.

"Your poor boots," she said sadly. "We have to hang them over the fire to dry."

Data cocked his head and looked at her curiously.

"And you'll need to be careful tomorrow," she went on. "I can wrap your feet in the morning and then we'll take a look after a few hours."

She realised Data was looking at her funny.

"What?" she asked. "I don't want you to get trench foot."

He sat her down on the edge of her bed.

"I will put them in the garment reprocessor and replicate a new pair of boots in the morning," Data explained.

He watched as her face lit up.

"Oh, that's right," she grinned as she brought her hand to her forehead.

"You are not back there," Data said.

He knew full well that between the alcohol and the Traveller crisis she was struggling to separate Turkana and the Enterprise.

"Besides, I am an android," he reminded her.

"I still don't want you to get trench foot," she slurred.

It made him feel inexplicably warm to know that regardless of his synthetic nature, she cared for him no differently than if he were human.

She'd treated him as a person from the first time they'd met.

And she did so without hesitation or prompting - in a way that (aside from Geordi) no one else ever had.

Data stripped off his wet uniform.

He froze as he felt Tasha's hands cup his arse.

"I'll never get tired of this," Tasha said appreciatively.

Data wasn't capable of blushing, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling shyly in light of her comment.

It never ceased to make him feel good to know that she genuinely adored him.

"Tasha-" Data began.

"Has anybody ever told you that you've got a cute bum?" Tasha asked.

"You have. Frequently," Data responded.

Tasha pinched him, giggling as she nuzzled his neck.

Data gasped softly as she reached around to take hold of his soft cock.

"Tasha, I do not believe we should engage in coupling right now," Data advised.

"You ever think about how we fit so well together?" Tasha asked.

She kissed the nape of his neck.

"They can't take that away," she repeated, resting her head against his back.

Data relaxed as they stood there cuddling one another.

"Whoa," Data warned as she resumed stroking him. "Not tonight."

He gripped her hand, forcing her to stop.

She was drunk and emotionally vulnerable and Data had no desire to exploit that.

"Tasha, please stop. I have no desire to restrain you," Data warned.

"You might like that," Tasha murmured as she nibbled at his neck. "I might like it too."

Data paused, closing his eyes as he attempted to prevent his sexuality programme from engaging.

Tasha made a small noise of protest when the expected function did not occur.

Data turned around and pulled her into an embrace.

"Not tonight, Tasha," Data said simply.

Tasha looked up at him, her eyes were starting to water.

She was already struggling with feeling inadequate with her job and the emotional labour of her trauma. Tasha knew it was completely unfounded to think Data didn't desire her. She understood the sense of feeling dirty and her self-blame were trauma reactions.

But they were amplified by the alcohol and by the disciplinary charges she was facing.

Data's lack of arousal only reinforced Tasha's conclusion that she was damaged and unwanted.

"I'm sorry," Tasha apologised.

She felt foolish. Her cheeks burned with humiliation at Data seeing her like this.

Tasha stepped back and stumbled for her wardrobe.

"I, um, here," she said as she handed Data the sleep trousers and shirt that he kept in her quarters.

She quickly threw on her dressing gown. She paused, catching sight of just how swollen and red her skin was. Tasha realised she needed to cover it up – fast. Data didn't need to see that.

Data watched as she struggled with tie.

"I can get you a uniform if you would rather," Tasha offered.

She was doing her best not to sway.

Data cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"I'll see you tomorrow on the Bridge," Tasha managed to get out.

"You wish for me to leave?" Data asked in disbelief.

Tasha bit her lip.

She didn't want him to go. But she was worried he felt obligated to stay – and a burden was the last thing she wanted to be.

"You probably have a lot of work to do," Tasha responded, unable to make eye contact.

"No," Data shook his head.

"Look, I don't need your pity," Tasha snapped.

It took Data 0.074 seconds to scan through his information databank on human trauma response and theorise where her mind was at.

Data was at her two paces, his hands gently cupping her face, his kiss an attempt to convey just how strongly he wanted to be there for her.

When they broke apart, Tasha swayed a little. Data was still holding her head.

She blinked a few times in confusion.

"My request that we stop was not because I find you undesirable," Data assured her.

Tasha closed her eyes, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"I cannot begin to properly describe how madly in love with you I find myself," Data confessed. "And I would love nothing more than to demonstrate that affection."

But he couldn't. Not tonight.

Tasha's judgement was compromised. Data recognised she was initiating sex for all the wrong the reasons.

He kissed the top of her head.

"And tonight I will give you any reassurance you need," Data promised.

He relaxed as he felt Tasha wrap her arms around him.

"Other than sex," Data added.

Tasha's shoulders slumped ever so slightly. It was such a minor response that it likely would have gone unnoticed were it not for the fact her partner was an incredibly perceptive android.

"Tomorrow," Data said.

Data's head twitched to the side as he was struck with an idea.

Starting with her left hand, Data brought it to his lips and kissed the tip of each finger, followed by the inside of her wrist, and then up the length of Tasha's arm.

He pulled the collar of her dressing gown back so that he could continue his way over her shoulder and across her collarbone.

Data gave the same attention to the other arm.

Once he finished he gently nuzzled his nose against her own.

"Please. Never doubt your worth," Data whispered. "Not when you are so lovely. And not when I love you so."


Data and Tasha had stood together in silence against one another for some time. Data shut down most of his processing capacity so that he could focus on the sound of her breathing.

Part way through their silent, mutual meditation, Data detected a subtle change in her breathing. It was followed a moment later by a fresh wave of tears.

It had been so long since Tasha had felt comfortable enough to completely break down in front of another person.

But Data's arms were a safe place.

There was no judgment. No unsolicited advice.

Only support.

After long after the tears had turned to hiccups, Tasha was finally comfortable enough to settle down for sleep.

There was just one last thing Data had to do before bed. He slipped out to the replicator.

He returned a moment later with something in his hand.

Tasha hissed when his fingers made contact with the raw skin on her chest.

"This will aid in healing," he explained as he smeared a cool, thick serum on her over-exfoliated flesh.

It stung at first, but after a few seconds it had a cooling and numbing effect.

Minutes later they were nestled beneath the covers.

Tasha was humming the same song she had been singing earlier.

"May I ask why you have a sudden fascination in early twentieth century jazz?" Data inquired.

"Celebrating," she said as she traced lazy circles on the sheet.

"Celebrating that we have returned to the alpha quadrant?" he asked.

Tasha shook her head.

"My first disciplinary report," she giggled.

She was still completely minced – but she was back to being an amused drunk.

"A Starfleet disciplinary report?" Data asked in disbelief. "Tasha, you have written numerous disciplinary reports."

"I didn't write it," she said vaguely.

"I do not understand," Data said as he struggled to decipher her meaning. "Who is the subject of the report?"

Tasha, humming softly, pointed at herself.

Data sat up.

Tasha had never been the subject of a disciplinary report.

It was something she took great pride in.

"Don't feel left out," she said slurred. "You get one too, honey."

She giggled.

"I fail to see how this is amusing," Data said gravely.

"Ohhhh," Tasha said boisterously as her eyes grew wide.

She sat up, hiccupped, and turned to Data.

"Violating Regulation 1138. Admiral Josiah Walsh is holding a hearing," she said.

Data was at a loss for words.

He had suspected the incident with Ensign Walsh would eventually lead to confrontation with Admiral Walsh, but he had not anticipated it would take this form.

She looked up at the ceiling.

"How did he say it? Who are they going to believe? A security chief that's too young for her job," Tasha said with a shrug.

She leaned in close against his ear.

"That's me," she whispered as she pointed to herself.

She sat back against the headboard again before resuming.

"Who's only excuse," she gestured wildly, "is that she was too busy bending over for her commanding oss-uh-fer."

Tasha rested her forehead against his.

"That's you," she whispered as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

Data looked at her, concern etched in his features.

"Ensign Walsh said this to you?" Data inquired.

Tasha sat back and nodded.

"It's all recorded," she replied casually.

Data knew it was late and that she was in no state to give him detailed answers.

But he needed to know.

He had many questions and, eventually, through her half-coherent responses he was able to obtain a satisfactory understanding of the situation.

"Therefore, one must conclude this disciplinary report is an act of retaliation," Data said.

"Figure that out on your own, Sherlock?" Tasha teased.

She didn't wait for his response.

"Of course, you did. You're so clever," she said.

He stiffened when she leaned in to kiss him.

She tried to deepen the kiss, but Data put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

After a few seconds, she surmised it was a battle she wasn't going to win.

Tasha flopped back onto her pillow.

"You're so good to me, Data," she said with a small smile. "And they can't take that away."

Data relaxed a little and slipped back down into bed.

She rolled over and snuggled up against him.

"I won't let them," she promised, followed by a hiccup a few seconds later.

"I am only aware of two instances in which disciplinary action has been taken against officers accused of violating Regulation 1138. It is highly unlikely that Admiral Walsh's attempt at retaliation will be found to have merit," Data advised.

"Data, if it comes to it – if I do get reassigned – would you still," she paused, uncertain of how to ask.

She didn't want him to feel pressured to stay involved in a relationship if it wasn't meeting his needs.

"Data, I want you to answer me honestly. If we wind up on different ships or if I get assigned to some station on the opposite side of the galaxy, would you still want this? Would you still want us?" she asked truthfully.

Data's mind began to spin.

Tasha took his momentary silence as a signal that he was debating the question.

"Because I know that being together, physically together, is an important part of your dream," she went on. "Reading together, the routine of sleeping, all of it. It wouldn't be the same."

Data understood the meaning behind her statement.

There were so many human activities that Data engaged in on a new level because of their relationship.

When she narrated stories for him, it gave him a whole new depth of comprehension to idiom, inflection, and the nuances of the human equation. She offered context and clarity to both humorous and dramatic situations.

He had come to find that he operated better after activating a rest programme designed to emulate human sleep and he 'slept' better when they were together.

Most of all, her presence had so enriched his life that he found he longed for her presence when they were apart.

It didn't matter if they were sitting apart in his quarters focused on their own separate tasks in comfortable silence – he wanted her there.

"Tasha, while I appreciate the opportunity that our relationship offers in furthering my desire to become human, you are much more to me than a just factor in that equation," Data advised.

Tasha grinned against him.

She knew to most humans that would seem like an indifferent statement, but she fully understood the weight his words carried.

For a moment, Data considered this might be the correct time to test the waters regarding a conversation he had been simultaneously eager for and terrified of.

She was certainly in a state that left her unfiltered.

He knew she was guarded with her feelings – and with good reason.

But perhaps, just maybe, this was a safe space in which he could gauge her feelings.

Even under the influence, Tasha could recognise he was deep in thought. His body was tense, and his artificial breathing pattern was elevated.

"Spill it," she said bluntly.

At times, Data found himself frustrated with her ability to correctly interpret the minute changes in his physicality.

Data decided to get straight to the point.

"A significant portion of my neural net is occupied with thoughts of things I would like to undertake with you," Data confessed. "Experiences I would like us to share."

Tasha regretted that her brain was foggy because this seemed like too important a conversation to be disengaged from.

"Hmmm?" she asked.

"I would like to preface this statement that I am not propositioning that we engage in such an activity at this moment in time," Data replied. "But I am curious as to your thoughts on the subject of proliferation."

"Well, I said in my report requesting the new 30 isoton yield photon torpedoes that they are crucial if we're going to send a message to the Romulans," Tasha explained. "They've been proliferating along the neutral zone for the last decade with those high-powered plasma torpedo arrays."

She hiccupped again.

"If they get to have big honkin' space guns, then I want a bigger one," Tasha giggled.

Data was about to resign himself that this conversation would have to wait when she spoke again.

"But I know that's not what you asked," she said as she squeezed him.

Data's cooling system skipped a beat.

"The answer is yes," she went on. "Someday. Not right now, but in the future."

She could feel Data hold her a little tighter.

"Down the road," Tasha said with a yawn.

Data closed his eyes and started to shut down his processes.

"Besides, I imagine we would have a tough time arguing we didn't violate Regulation 1138 with a baby," she giggled.


Despite their impending disciplinary hearing, Data and Tasha were feeling a renewed sense of joy.

To their surprise, Will Riker had opted to host a spontaneous evidence-gathering night.

Rather that poker, Riker had put the word out to the other senior staff about the upcoming hearing. Word had travelled fast that Data and Tasha were facing disciplinary action – and the crew had rallied.

The senior officers had all shown. Keiko was there. Ensign Sonya Gomez, Nurse Ogowa and her boyfriend, and even Ensign Jeffords had stepped up to comb through Starfleet records and previous hearings in order to find evidence to help Data and Tasha.

In fact, Riker didn't have enough space for everyone that wanted to help.

Every available inch of Riker's personal quarters was covered with boxes of isolinear chips.

"Tasha, can you help me take these back to the library?" Riker asked.

He motioned to two boxes on the floor by the door.

Tasha picked one of them up and they made their way down to the nearest lift.

"What's this all about?" Tasha inquired as they stepped onto the lift.

"Publicly? Captain Picard informed me that we're due for a review at Starbase 118 where some disciplinary charges against Ensign Drew Walsh are to be evaluated," Riker stated. "But I suspect you already knew that."

He gave her a knowing look.

Tasha froze.

Had Captain Picard told him?

Did they all know?

Will Riker could sense he had treaded into a sensitive topic.

"The Captain said you've been tracking a series of instances with Walsh including several harassment charges against a number of crew members. The records are all sealed, but the Captain said you would know what to do with the information we've been asked to gather," Riker said.

Tasha wasn't the only one that had been a victim of Walsh and his gang. In fact, once word got out, people all over the ship had come forward with stories of abuse and harassment.

Tasha breathed a sigh of relief.

Riker explained they had been tasked with mapping a timeline of Walsh's behavioural issues starting with his service on the Enterprise and going back to his time at Starfleet Academy.

"Off the record, I know that Admiral Josiah Walsh is retaliating against you for bringing these charges against his grandson. It's ridiculous! You're just doing your job," Riker said.

Tasha smiled.

"Thank you, sir," she replied.

It seemed Riker was blissfully unaware of the details as to why the Walsh's were keen to come after her.

It was a relief.

She would rather have them assume it was simply because of her security role rather than know the sordid facts of her various horrible encounters.

"Data told Geordi about the charges," he went on. "And when word got around about it, well, the rest just kind of fell into place."

They stepped off the lift and into the library.

"Geordi caught Worf this morning and he suggested we use poker night to get it all sorted," Riker explained as he dumped the isolinear chip files into the sorter. "Beverly found out when he escorted the Chief to Sickbay this afternoon and before you know it, we had people cropping up all over that wanted to help."

Tasha was dumbstruck.

"I'm not sure if that's a testament to the number of folks Walsh has managed to irk or the number of friends you've got," he said. "But I think it's the latter. Truth be told, I didn't have enough room for everyone that wanted to come."

Will Riker flashed her a broad smile.

"It's none of my business, but just so you know, we're all rooting for you," Riker told her.

"Thank you, but let's keep that on the downlow," Tasha replied awkwardly.

"Look, I know you like to keep things discreet," he assured her. "But I'm really glad you two got together. The universe needs a little more love."

He meant every word.

Will Riker was a romantic at heart. He'd seen the way they looked at each other. Even before they got together, he'd heard the way Tasha would defend Data even when he wasn't around. Furthermore, it was nice to know Tasha had found someone she could trust.

It made him feel good knowing the two of them had each other.


The crowd had wound down to the just senior officers and Keiko as they were seated around Commander Riker's table.

"I cannot thank you enough for your help," Data stated.

"Don't mention it," Keiko said as she squeezed his shoulder.

"When I heard we had a chance to fix this Walsh problem, I jumped at the chance," Geordi said.

"That guy has caused more problems with my team than anyone I've ever served with," Miles told them.

Walsh had been more than just an annoyance to the transporter team. A Bajoran member of the crew that served under Miles had been subjected to routine harassment from Walsh and his gang.

"And when I found he thought they could come after you two, no," Miles said fiercely. "Not gonna happen."

Tasha and Worf exchanged a dark look.

Tasha took a deep breath and leaned forward.

"I really do appreciate all the work you've done. But after tonight, you need to distance yourselves from this," Tasha cautioned. "This situation with Walsh has gone on for months and we've struggled to hold him accountable because of interference from his grandfather."

She didn't want to see her friends drug into the mud along with her and Data.

"We know the risk, T," Geordi assured her.

"We're a team," Beverly added.

"If Walsh thinks he's going to try to bring down you and Data, he's going to have to come after all of us," Worf said defiantly.

"You guys don't need to get involved with this," Tasha warned. "It's too risky."

Geordi shook his head.

"Who saved my butt when that plasma fire broke out in the Jefferies tube?" Geordi asked as he looked to Data. "You two are my best friends."

"You kept us safe when that shuttle went down on Ysirdrel VI," Miles added as he met Tasha's eyes. "Never would have made it out of there without you, Tasha."

"You kept my son safe," Beverly said, referencing their recent trip to the Edo planet as she took Tasha's hand.

She turned and looked at Data.

"And you risked your own life to help bring him home," the doctor said as she looked to Data.

"We're all grateful for what the two of you have done for us and this ship," Deanna explained.

"You have put yourself on the line for all of us at one point or another," Worf said stoically. "It is only right that you allow us to step into battle with you this time."

"We're ready for this fight and we've got your back," Riker said as he clapped Data on the back.

Data caught Tasha's gaze.

Wordlessly, she communicated that everything was going to be alright.

After a few seconds, Data glanced around the table at his circle of friends.

His thoughts drifted back to Beverly's words from earlier.

'Remember, family comes in many forms.'

"Alright, now who's up for poker?" Riker said with a giddy smirk.