A/N: It feels so good to be back!

This chapter covers the events of The Complication chapters 47-48.

At this point in the story, the characters are still in the early part of Season 1. Datalore has not yet occurred. In accordance with that timeline and canon, Data is unaware of his origins and connection to Doctor Soong at this point.

All he knows is that he was discovered and activated on Omicron Theta.

The show never really resolved the discrepancy with Data having the colonists' memories but being completely unaware of Soong.

Charlie addresses that in The Complication and we're following the same 'fix' here.

Trigger warning: This chapter includes flashbacks for both Data and Tasha during their time at the Academy. Mentions of physical injury, trauma, abuse, underage, noncon/rape.


Second Officer's Personal Log. Stardate 41711.3. After five days of personal leave, the senior officers of the Enterprise, myself included, are preparing to beam down to Starfleet Headquarters for the annual Command Conference. This will be the fourteenth time attending such a conference, but my first as Second Officer of the Flagship.

While I am looking forward to gaining new insight on the Cardassian Border War and Starfleet's diplomatic efforts, Lieutenant Yar has expressed dismay that the Romulan situation appears to be a topic that has been 'glossed over.'

I find that I am in agreement.

With our recent Romulan encounters, I am left wondering why Starfleet would neglect to include such a growing threat among its conference agenda. Without further information, I am left to merely speculate as to the reasons behind such a decision.


Captain Picard tugged at the collar of his dress uniform.

The air was stuffy.

Nearly a thousand officers from ships, starbases, and outposts dotted throughout the known galaxy were crammed into the Jonathan Archer Memorial Event Hall.

Due to the nature of the conference, attendance was limited.

Captain Picard, Commander Riker, Commander Data, and Tasha were the four members of the Enterprise crew in attendance.

As they found their seats, Picard became increasingly frustrated watching the crowd.

In Picard's opinion, these events strayed further and further from their original purpose. These conferences had once been the single most important Starfleet conference.

Now they were an excuse to mingle and schmooze.

Picard had never been one to enjoy that kind of political inside baseball and he was grateful Commander Riker didn't mind stepping up into that role.

Riker was naturally charismatic and charming. He got on well with the team. He was both perceptive and polite enough to compensate for Jean-Luc's own gruff exterior.

Data could tell Tasha was trying to look around the room without drawing attention to herself. There had been a moment of panic when she spied the table for the team from the USS Leiden and did not spy one Christopher Hobson.

Data leaned in close.

"Transferred to the Sutherland as of this morning," Data said in a low voice.

The night before, Tasha had eventually dozed off in Data's arms. Before she awoke, he had memorised the entire layout and seating arrangement for the event – including the location of Lieutenant Commander Christopher Hobson who was now the new First Officer on the USS Sutherland.

"They are on a different level," Data added.

Tasha visibly relaxed.

There were six levels to the event hall and each one of them was crammed with personnel. It was a relief to know that Hobson was off a completely different level.

And probably so excited about his new job that he'll be schmoozing all day. Tasha thought with a newfound sense of relief.

There was a scuffle of chairs as everyone stood.

"I pledge to uphold, support, and defend the United Federation of Planets against all enemies, interstellar or domestic, and that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same," the crowd recited. "I will do right to all manner of people without fear or favour, affection, or ill will. I will serve to maintain peace, explore the galaxy, advance scientific discovery, defend the Federation, and, above all, abide by the Prime Directive."

As they sat back down, Data noticed a sour look on Tasha's face.

"You are agitated," Data whispered.

"I just don't care for this kind of thing," Tasha replied in a low voice. "It's so-"

She paused as she searched for the right word.

"Militarised," she settled on.

"Hmm," Data replied as he quickly raised and lowered his eyebrows, surprised by her comment.

Starfleet was not a military organisation. But there was no denying that there were aspects to its structure that operated similarly to military organisations in other governments. Planetary defence was a critical component of their mission.

However, at heart, Starfleet existed for exploration.

While Tasha had no protests about the importance of their defensive work, she'd always been put off by the pomp and circumstance that accompanied these formal gatherings. She understood and took her duty seriously – but such public oaths of affirmation struck a nerve.

It was far too much like the brand of rabid nationalism she'd experienced from the factions on Turkana to sit comfortably with Tasha.

A strange notion considering my role is the most militarised of all. She mused to herself.


As Tasha suspected, the theme of the conference seemed to focus on everything but the Romulans.

In fact, Starfleet had brought in a Vulcan Ambassador named T'Pel who claimed the Empire was on the brink of failure. She was certain a thaw would follow, and (in her expert opinion) formal diplomatic relations soon after.

Several hours into the conference, the room was fading fast.

Data listened with rapt attention to everything Ambassador T'Pel said. But he had the advantage over his colleagues.

Data could also study the room at the same time.

He spied Admiral Josiah Walsh and his team from the Shepard. Fortunately, it seemed Walsh had not bothered to look for them.

Captain Rixx from the Thomas Paine was on the same level as the Enterprise delegation and only a few tables away.

Data had never met the Bolian Captain, but his reputation preceded him. He was one of the finest Captains in Starfleet and his service record was littered with decorations.

In particular, Rixx's time on the Neutral Zone had been praised as one of the biggest factors in keeping the tenuous peace with the Romulans.

Data had calculated no less than four hundred and fifteen different scenarios that would lead to peace overtures from the Romulans.

In his opinion, nothing short of a catastrophic extinction event would make the Romulans reach for an olive branch.

Rather than breaking for an hour, lunch was going be beamed directly into the assembly hall.

There was a roar of protest from the crowd at this news.

"We will ensure that all meals provided align with your dietary specifications as outlined in your personnel files," Admiral Ibrahim's senior aide informed the group.

"So much for catching a bite at Henley's," Riker said.

He'd been looking forward to lunch at his favourite local deli all week.

A moment later the familiar shimmering sound of materialisation filled the assembly hall as ration boxes appeared on the tables labelled for each officer.

Commander Riker glanced at the stack and distributed the boxes to the Captain and Tasha.

Data noticed there were only three boxes sent down but said nothing.

While he did not require nutritional intake in the same manner as humans, Data did have a nutrient distribution system that helped to lubricate his biofunctions. He consumed a semi-organic nutrient supplement in silicon regularly that provided for all of his nutritional needs.

However, he was capable of functioning for extended periods of time without ingesting it.

'Skipping meals' would not result in the same kind of sluggish lack of fuel that humans experienced.

But Tasha knew he could meet most of the same nutritional needs through consuming regular food. His system had a distribution method that would process and break down anything consumed into usable sustenance.

Whatever couldn't be absorbed was destroyed by his power core.

Most of all, Tasha understood that Data had gotten used to eating with other officers.

He liked to eat. And Meals were such a common human way of spending time together.

The oversight was another reminder of his synthetic nature.

"I'm not hungry," Tasha said as she pushed her ration box in front of Data.

Data looked down at the box in front of him and then back to Tasha.

He frowned.

"Do not take this the wrong way," Data began. "But you are always hungry."

Tasha laughed softly.

"Truly, I'm not right now," she said. "Just sleepy."

It was the truth.

The entire business of this unknown threat and her upcoming meeting with Captain Rixx had killed her appetite.


The final blow to a long, disappointing day had come with the final presentation.

Starfleet wasn't just disinterested in the Romulan threat – they had officially lowered the threat level along the Neutral Zone and were formally withdrawing defensive structures, personnel, and ships.

Thousands of people were to be reassigned.

Outposts and starbases would be closed and repurposed.

"These changes are a necessary step toward thawing the long, fraught relationship between our peoples," T'Pel advised. "Change will not come overnight. But I believe that with our continued, patient efforts the long arc of history will bend toward peace."

Tasha was aghast.

Data blinked, perplexed as he tried to process this drastic change in Starfleet policy.

A dark look passed between Jean-Luc and Commander Riker.

"Well, that was certainly unexpected," Captain Picard remarked.

"You can say that again," Data replied with an uncharacteristic sense of sarcasm.

Will Riker covered his smile with a cough.

Tasha's signature biting sarcasm seemed to rub off on Data more and more with each passing day.

"I suppose we should make a polite appearance at the reception," Captain Picard said as he motioned to the door.


The group felt a collective sense of relief as people poured out of the reception hall and onto the campus of Starfleet Academy.

There were a number of formal receptions being held across the campus hosted by various departments and campus organisations.

"Sir?" Riker asked.

He could just tell Jean-Luc was feeling pensive.

Picard sighed.

"I was just thinking – the last time I was on this Campus as a young man we were at war with the Klingons. Now I can't help but wonder what's coming next," Picard remarked.

"I feel like I did when I attended the conference in 2342. The one right before hostilities broke out with the Talarians," Picard grumbled.

"Twenty-Fourth Century Collective Security Policy and the Lessons of Khitomer," Data rattled off.

Everyone stopped.

"Bless you," Riker teased, pretending Data had sneezed.

"The primary briefing that year. 2342. The keynote speaker was Admiral Mark Jameson," Data said.

Tasha grinned. Jean-Luc slowly nodded as he came around.

"Right. Right," he said, shaking his finger. "Forgive me, Data. Sometimes I forget you've been in Starfleet as long as you have."

Data was timeless.

Chronologically, he was closer in age to the likes of most of the other senior officers. But when it came to experience and tenure, Data was far closer to the likes of Captain Picard, Doctor Crusher, and Chief O'Brien.

Data had served nearly twice as long as Commander Riker and in far more dangerous situations.

Not for the first time, Picard wondered why Data had never had the ambition to apply for his own command. He was certainly qualified.

The clocktower chimed, signalling that the dinner hour approached.

Riker grinned.

"Number One?" Picard prompted.

"Sorry, sir. Just remembering many a good evening I had under that clocktower," Riker confessed. "And a few bad ones."

Riker threw back his head and laughed.

It was a campus tradition to kiss your sweetheart under the clocktower.

"Ashley Durante," Riker said with a sigh.

"The pilot?" Tasha asked.

She had crossed paths with Durante during her stint on the Dunkirk.

"That's the one. Broke my heart under the clocktower," Riker shared.

"I suppose some things are a shared experience for all cadets," Picard mused.

The Captain did not elaborate though Tasha had a sneaking suspicion this had something to do with a certain Chief Medical Officer.

"What about you, T?" Riker asked.

Tasha shook her head.

"Sorry, I don't have any stories," she lied.

She wasn't about to divulge her own uncomfortable Academy experiences.

There was the awful, manipulative Christopher Hobson.

The swearing off of men followed a string of (mostly) unsuccessful attempts at dating. In true sapphic fashion, Tasha had no problem being direct with men. But she became a sweaty, stammering mess when it came to talking to women.

Unsatisfied and feeling terribly alone, Tasha had fallen into a deep depression which she treated with whisky, training, and casual sex.

All in all, she didn't think it was the kind of thing she wanted to share with Captain Picard.

"What about you, Data?" Riker asked.

Data's eyebrows shot up.

"I would not qualify any of my liaisons while at the Academy as a relationship based on mutual affection. However, I did experience a sense of loss when Serana ended our… friendship," Data said.

Tasha's face lit up.

"Serana?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

Tasha intentionally slowed her speed to put some distance between her and Data and the Captain and Commander Riker.

Riker got the hint and Data and Tasha were allowed to drop back.

"C'mon," Tasha said as she looped her arm through Data's. "You can tell me all about your time at the Academy."

She giggled.

"And Serana," Tasha teased.


Starfleet Academy | 2341

Fourteen months, eight days, three hours, and forty-seven minutes.

That was exactly how long Data had known Serana.

She was a Vulcan Exobiologist, and they shared a mutual preference to spend Saturday mornings in the lab.

And Friday evenings at the symphony.

Sundays in the Arboretum.

Serana wasn't much interested in synthetic life. But she found Data to be far more tolerable than most of her humanoid lab partners.

Serana was part of a growing counterculture among younger Vulcans. They had eschewed the rigid relationship expectations of their parents and were curious to experiment with other people.

To Serana, Data was the perfect partner.

By his own account, he experienced no emotion. He was fully functional and expressed a desire for sexual interaction as he considered it an important subject of study.

Serana found pleasure in their coupling and relished the fact it did not include hollow platitudes.

Now they were preparing to go their separate ways.

Data had always known that moment would come. Serana had made that clear from the start of their arrangement.

Arrangement.

That was what she called it – making it abundantly clear to Data that he should never refer to their arrangement as a relationship.

Data was heading for the Trieste. It was a small science ship specialising in missions with an exobiology, botany, and geology focus.

Serana was headed for a cushy position overseeing the Science Lab on Starbase 18.

News of her assignment had come the day before. In true Vulcan fashion, Serana had merely quirked her eyebrow and stated that the news was welcome.

Data was due to meet Serana that night at the planetarium. It was one of her favourite places.

After the show, Data presented Serana with a gift.

She frowned.

"Explain," she demanded in a smooth voice.

"It is a gift," Data answered, assuming that was obvious.

He had spent hours researching human custom. It was his understanding that such a gift was a kind gesture from one friend to another – especially following graduation, promotion, or other significant life events.

"This is a new breed of orchid. I have named it in your honour and would like you to have," Data explained.

He had gone to great lengths to produce this new hybrid orchid. Professor Vivec, Head of the Botany Department, had been slightly disappointed Data had not wished to gift the orchid to the campus Arboretum.

Serana's face fell.

"Is it not to your liking?" Data asked.

Data panicked.

"I will confess I was uncertain if this would be the correct gift. I also considered a handmade pen, a traditional Vulcan tea set, or a-"

"Data, please. Stop," Serana said as she put her hand up.

Data immediately clammed up.

He had a habit of rambling when he was faced with such situations. Navigating a variety of cultures and customs was enough to make Data's head spin.

"Have I done something wrong?" Data asked. "Please help me understand?"

He was desperate to know.

"Data, we are not in a relationship," Serana clarified.

In recent weeks, she had grown increasingly concerned about the shift in their relationship. Following sex, Data had started to ask if she wished for post-coital intimacy.

He offered to prepare meals and became increasingly interested in her personal wellbeing.

"Data, this is not the arrangement we agreed to," Serana said frankly.

Data could see she was disturbed.

"This is not appropriate," Serana went on.

She passed the orchid back to Data.

"Please," she implored. "I consider you a friend, Mr Data. Do not spoil that by emulating human emotions. I do not appreciate falsehood."

Data was gobsmacked. His brow furrowed. He cocked his head to the side.

"My interactions are not fabricated. These-"

Data paused. He couldn't call them feelings. He wasn't supposed to have emotions.

"My neural pathways have grown accustomed to your presence. I appreciate your honesty and enjoy our friendship. I was merely trying to demonstrate that and celebrate your success through the custom of gift giving," Data explained.

Serana was not convinced.

"It's not the orchid, Data," she assured him.

She straightened her shoulders and eyed Data with suspicion.

"You continue to act like you have an emotional investment on our coupling," Serana pointed out.

"I do not believe I am 'acting,' I was not aware that-"

Serana put her hand up.

"I believe it would be best if we were to end our arrangement," Serana said.

Data had taken the orchid straight to the Arboretum and offered it to Professor Vivec that night.

Serana had hardly been his first intimate partner. But she had been one of the kindest.

Data knew there was a difference between sex and love. He understood that better than most. And in his time at Starfleet Academy, he had engaged in a handful of sexual experiences with fellow cadets.

While he found a degree of physical and what he called 'neural' pleasure in those sexual experiences, most of the time Data found them to be lacking.

There was something missing.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

To some of his partners, Data was nothing more than a curiosity. Others thought he was the perfect sentient sex toy.

Data never complained. He was always ready to satisfy. And he didn't make demands.

There were certain activities Data enjoyed more than others. He had preferences just as anyone did. Data made requests when he felt it was appropriate.

May I kiss you?

May I finish too?

On occasion, those requests were granted.

All in all, Data found himself utterly at a loss to explain the discrepancy between the feelings he had read about and his own experience.

It felt like there was a hole inside of him, a sense of emptiness that he could not explain.

Data longed for intimacy. He wanted to find an emotion and physical connection to another person.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind crept in.

You're an android. You aren't capable of feeling.

The memory of Bruce Maddox echoed in Data's mind. Even years on from his time in captivity, Data found it was difficult to shake such trauma.

But as he settled in to reread Sense and Sensibility for the eighth time, Data told himself that he would find love.

Someday.

He had to believe that.


Present

"She is on Vulcan now working for the Vulcan Science Academy," Data said.

"Are you still friends?" Tasha inquired.

Data spoke very little about some of his older friendships. Nonetheless, Tasha knew that he kept up a rigorous correspondence with a number of fellow officers.

"We have not spoken since that night," Data answered.

Serana had requested they end their arrangement and Data had sought to honour that request.

"I came across her name in a recent article," Data explained.

That was the only reason he'd known she was on Vulcan now.

Tasha stopped and frowned. Her eyes were full of pity.

"I'm so sorry, Data," she said sincerely.

"It is alright," he assured her.

Tasha flashed him a wan smile as she reached up to tuck Data's hair back behind his ear.

"I mean it. You deserved so much better," Tasha said.

Data studied her expression, momentarily allowing his mind to wander as they stood by one of the large trees on the central campus green.

Data glanced over to his left where Cole Hall, a dormitory sat.

"I used to sit up on the roof and play my violin and dream about finding myself," Data confessed. "About finding a home. A place where I belonged."

Data knew nothing of his origins.

He had been discovered on Omicron Theta and activated. And in spite of Bruce Maddox's repeated attempts to torture the information out of him, Data had nothing to offer.

It was like there was a memory block preventing him from accessing necessary engrams.

More than anything, Data had sought home.

It was a terribly lonely feeling not knowing if he was the only one of his kind or perhaps the lost child of a great android nation.

"I used to dream that I would find my way home. That someone would show up to announce they had discovered a planet full of my kind," Data shared.

Data gripped Tasha's hand and pulled it toward his lips.

"I do not have to wonder any longer. I know where I belong," he said.

He pressed a tender kiss to the back of her hand.

"And I have found that home with you, Tasha," Data said.

Tasha wanted to melt.

"Anyone that says you can't feel-"

Tasha stopped as her eyes started to well up.

"They're dead wrong," Tasha concluded.

Tasha knew Data had emotion. He felt in ways that were stronger and deeper than humans did.

And she thought it was beautiful.

They were technically both on duty and still in uniform. For once, Tasha didn't care.

She leaned forward and captured Data's lips in an ardent kiss as she attempted to convey just how much she loved him.

"I suppose her loss is my gain," Tasha said as she pulled away.

"We should get on to the reception," Data advised.

Tasha rested her head against his shoulder as they walked along.

"I'm glad we're going to this together. I hate these things," she said.


When they arrived at the reception, they found Deanna, Beverly, and Worf waiting at a table in the corner.

Deanna gave them a short wave. While the rest of the officers made a beeline for the table, Data headed off in search of the bar.

Weaving his way through the crowd, Data finally located it in the far corner of the room.

He was waiting for his drinks when a familiar hand grabbed his elbow.

"How was the conference?" Geordi asked.

"Truth be told, I would prefer to hear how your day went," Data replied.

"That bad, huh?" Geordi chuckled.

Data nodded.

"Well, I can't say much for the new coolant system regulators. It's like they took the specs from the old Miranda class ships and slapped a new dispersal mechanism on them," Geordi said with a sigh.

Data was disappointed to hear this news. He'd been hoping the new coolant system regulators would enable ships like the Enterprise to maintain higher warp speeds for longer periods of time without as many cooling stops.

As the incident at Starbase 118 had shown, even the Galaxy class ships weren't invulnerable. While they could achieve higher speeds longer than previously constructed ships, the cool down rate remained a problem.

With their drinks in hand, they made their way back to the table where the conversation had quickly turned to the topic of the Romulans.

"In the words of Sun Tzu, If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant," Riker smirked from across the table.

"It's always a game of chess with the Romulans, isn't it?" Picard remarked.

Tasha was unusually quiet.

The whole thing just didn't sit right with her.

Data handed her a glass of amber liquid.

Tasha took a sip and made a face.

"This is synthehol," she said in disappointment as she eyed the substance.

"You have not eaten," Data reminded her.

Tasha hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Even then, she'd really only picked at her plate. But she was more than ready for a stiff drink.

She checked the time – mindful not to do so too often – and then took another swig of her drink.

Tasha was rue to leave when she did.

Worf had excused himself quickly – beating a hasty retreat for an exit that led to a service corridor the moment he spied a gorgeous Klingon woman at the reception.

Tasha recognised her from the picture Worf kept hidden in his desk.

K'Ehleyr. Tasha recalled.

She didn't know the backstory between them, but it was enough to fluster Worf and that made Tasha morbidly curious.

Unfortunately, she was due to leave for her meeting with Captain Rixx.

Just my luck. Tasha lamented.

"I'm meeting a friend for a drink, I'll catch up with you later," Tasha said as she slipped away from the reception.


Tasha made her way off the premises of Starfleet Headquarters, stepping out onto the streets of San Francisco and into the night.

It had been years since she'd wandered around this part of the city – and she didn't much care for the well-to-do establishments that lined the area immediately around the campus. They were full of Starfleet brass and young officer's eager to network their way to their next promotion.

She passed The Captain's Chair– one such establishment. As she passed, she glanced in the large glass window and could see it hadn't changed much in the years since her own time at the Academy.

There had been a time when Tasha had been a part of that group.

At one time, she had been a young cadet desperate to prove she was anything but a scrappy little nobody from a backwater planet.

Tasha chuckled to herself.

For a moment, she watched a table where a group of cadets were mingling with a handful of officers.

It was funny how the men that had warned her to watch out for the non-Starfleet 'riff-raff' that hung around had in fact been the very men she should have been wary of in the first place.

If I only knew then what I know now. She mused.

As she walked along toward Maigret's (the pub where she was meeting Rixx), Tasha briefly wondered if she would have felt the same way a year earlier. It had been a long, tumultuous path learning to be comfortable in her own skin.

And she knew she wasn't entirely there yet.

But she'd never felt the need to hide any part of herself around Data – at least not consciously.

There were still ticks she had picked up over the years that were such an entrenched part of her daily habits that Tasha knew stemmed from the fear of perception - speaking English rather than Turkanan, overworking, and joking that the snacks she hid in her uniform were simply a matter of an insatiable appetite rather than a fear of not having food.

Deep down, she suspected Data understood this – and loved her regardless.

That was the beauty of her relationship with Data.

Sure, he expressed concern for her behaviour at times. Tasha wasn't great about taking care of herself.

But Data had never asked her to compromise who she was or what she believed in.


San Francisco | 2352

"I don't-"

Tasha trailed off and shook her head.

She couldn't bring herself to say no. She didn't want to disappoint Christopher. Yet at the same time, she felt uncomfortable.

Christopher pulled her into a tight embrace. He was sitting on the sofa. Tasha had been standing on the carpet in front of him.

He rested his head on her abdomen and pouting, staring up at her like he was a puppy being denied affection.

"Do it for me?" he asked.

Tasha chewed on the inside of her lip.

"But… I don't think it's very practical," Tasha said meekly.

She was training to be a Security officer. She liked to box and had recently been accepted as part of the Academy Parrises Squares team.

"You know how rough it is. Plus with Beach volleyball and-"

"And you are going to look so great in your little uniform," Christopher said, cutting her off.

He lifted her shirt to kiss her navel.

"I can't wait to nibble," he said.

The other morning while they were lying in bed, Christopher had suggested out of the blue that Tasha pierce her navel.

Tasha was hesitant. With her active lifestyle and frequent contact with conductive materials, any sort of piercing was a safety concern.

Christopher was always making suggestions for Tasha's wardrobe or class schedule. He was the one that had convinced Tasha to forgo her sporty boycut in favour of a sleek bob.

According to Christopher, it was more professional. (As was the skant and dropping her raggy old locket).

He'd also been the one that convinced her to drop her Klingon Language course in favour of an Officer Development Club.

It's all about networking. Christopher had said.

Her favourite buttery soft leggings and Ranger's tee had been replaced with a fashionable tennis dress. The Night Watch poster (one of Tasha's favourite bands) was rolled up and stuffed in the closet back at her dorm.

Christopher had advised that no one would take Tasha seriously if she listened to that sort of music.

Speaking of her dorm, Tasha spent barely any time there anymore.

She was increasingly living full time with Christopher in his penthouse off campus.

In a matter of months, Tasha had gone from having absolutely nothing to living in the nicest place she'd ever seen with someone that doted on her.

Christopher had provided Tasha with a completely new life, new wardrobe, and new social circle.

Even her name had changed. Tasha had always loathed 'Natasha.' It wasn't her real name, and it didn't feel right.

But Christopher insisted it was more professional.

No one wants to take orders from someone who goes by nickname. Hobson had warned.

"I never ask for anything," Christopher said in a slow, playful drawl.

It couldn't be further from the truth.

He asked for things all the time. Hell, he expected complete obedience from Tasha.

"Do it for me, pumpkin?" Christopher asked.

Tasha felt like she couldn't breathe.

"I just-"

She felt icky.

Tasha couldn't put her finger on it, but somehow this felt wrong.

It was a reminder of a time when she hadn't been free to make choices about her own body.

"I'd really rather not," Tasha finally managed to say.

Christopher sighed. He dropped his hands from her waist and looked displeased.

"Alright. It's your choice," he said in a resigned voice.

Tasha's heart sank. She felt like she was the one that had done something wrong.

"I didn't want to say anything before, but I suppose it doesn't matter now," Christopher said.

His voice was dripping with feigned sorrow as he moved toward the kitchen island. Christopher reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a small box.

"I supposed I can see if they'll take this back," he went on.

Tasha recognised the markings on the box. It was from a jeweller in town. Christopher had purchased a gold bracelet for Tasha from them previously.

Tasha didn't know squat about human brands, but some of the other cadets had remarked on its value.

"I-I-I didn't know," Tasha stammered. "I'm sorry."

Hobson picked up the box and ran his fingers over the dangling piece with a small star at the end.

"Oh, it's alright," Hobson said in a voice that made Tasha feel anything but. "It's your choice. You'll still be my little star even if you don't wear it."

"Was it very expensive?" Tasha asked.

She didn't know how she would pay him back. Tasha had no money. But she felt obligated to make an attempt.

Hobson chuckled as he approached her.

"Awww, you pretty little fool," he teased, kissing the top of her head.

Christopher set the box down on the counter. He picked up Tasha and set her on the edge.

"I'll find a way to pay you back," Tasha offered.

"You know I don't want that," Hobson said.

At least, he didn't want financial compensation. He was from an old, wealthy family that had managed to survive the economic changes of the last three-hundred years intact.

Tasha had grown up on a world that still relied on the old economic structure. Everything on Turkana had a cost.

She didn't even blink when Christopher asked her to make it up to him that night.

"I want you to wear this and nothing else tonight, do you understand?" Christopher asked as he closed the clasp on a necklace he'd purchased for Tasha a few weeks earlier.

"Uh huh," she nodded in response.

"That's my girl," Hobson said, kissing the top of her head.


In the end, Tasha had gotten the damned piercing.

It had lasted all of two months before it was jostled and ripped out during a pickup game of beach rugby.

Tasha had cursed her luck and her stupid piercing the stupid bikini she'd worn at Christopher's behest.

Most of all, she cursed herself for refusing to stick to her guns.

Tasha was curled up in Christopher's bed clutching a cold compress against her abdomen. A dermal regenerator had sealed the wound, but there was still pain.

"Are you going to sulk all afternoon, cupcake?" Hobson asked as he traced the line of her thigh.

"I just want to lie here for a while," Tasha responded.

She was angry with herself and half-expecting Christopher to ask when she would get a fresh piercing. Tasha figured it would be best to head it off now.

"I'm not doing it again," she sniffled.

"Of course not," Hobson agreed as if he'd always been opposed to the matter.

He snuggled up against Tasha.

"I was thinking we could stay in tonight," Hobson said.

Tasha relaxed.

Most weekends they were at one party or another as Christopher schmoozed his way through Starfleet brass in an effort to land his own command.

Tasha was in pain. She felt humiliated. She didn't want to go anywhere.

"And I was thinking we could get a pizza and you could wear that little-"

"No," Tasha interjected without hesitation.

She frowned.

"I don't want to play any games tonight. I don't want to have sex. I don't want to slip into the jacuzzi. This really hurt. I'm tired and I just want to rest here," she said.

It was like throwing a bucket of ice water on Christopher's plans for the evening.

"Well, excuse me for trying to give you a good night after a hard day," Hobson said.

He sat up as if he had been burned.

"I'll just leave you alone then," Hobson declared in terse voice. "Maybe you should just go back to your dorm if you don't want to be here?"

Tasha pulled herself into an upright position.

"I think maybe I will tonight," Tasha said.

She rarely ever stayed in her own dorm anymore.

"I won't be able to take you there. I already invited the guys over for pizza," Christopher said.

He had his own private personal shuttle that he used to jet all over the place. He expected Tasha to buckle at this.

"That's alright," Tasha replied coolly. "I can see myself there."

It was a long walk.

She would have to catch three separate public transit shuttles. Even the first one was a long way from Christopher's penthouse.

To his stunned surprise, Hobson watched Tasha walk out of his home that night.

It wasn't he tend of their relationship - but it was the first significant crack in the foundation.


Present

By the time she reached Maigret's, Tasha was more ready than ever for a stiff drink. Everything about being back in San Francisco seemed to ooze memories she'd sooner forget.

"Sorry to pull you away from the reception," Rixx said as she slipped into the seat across from him.

"Are you kidding? I couldn't get away from it fast enough," Tasha quipped in response as she tapped the menu at the end of the table to place her order.

While the circumstances of their meeting weren't exactly exciting, at the very least, there was good company and real whisky.


Tasha listened patiently as Captain Rixx outlined a frightening pattern.

Disappearances.

Strange accidents.

Starfleet officials exhibiting strange behaviour.

Most alarming of all, Rixx had encountered a number of old friends and colleagues that were… off. It was like they weren't themselves. They could not recall shared experiences or memories.

They seemed to be bluffing their way through their duties.

It reeked of conspiracy.

Were this coming from anyone else, Tasha would think they were an Enterprise-C conspiracy theorist.

But she had served with Rixx in covert operations. Years earlier they had liberated a Cardassian forced labour camp.

They had gone to hell and back together and there was an unbreakable bond of mutual trust that came from that.

Like Tasha, Rixx had grown up a child of war. His own people, the Bolians, had been locked in a decades long conflict with the warlike Meropa.

The Federation and Starfleet considered this an 'internal matter' of Bolian affairs. As such, the Bolian had struggled on for decades with no direct assistance.

Sure, Federation worlds traded with the Bolians. They could trade for medical supplies and arms. But large portions of Bolian people remained under occupation.

The Bolian government itself had evacuated and retaken portions of their territory so frequently that it was a running joke 'where's headquarters this week?'

Like Tasha, Rixx knew Starfleet was an imperfect institution.

"Whatever's going on, it's likely going to hit the Flagship sooner or later," Rixx said.

Tasha nodded.

He was right.

If there was some kind of conspiracy, it was only a matter of time before the Enterprisebecame entangled with it.

"Your Second Officer is an android, is he not?" Rixx questioned.

"Yes," Tasha answered.

"Then if this is some kind of psychological control, mental influence, or disease, then he may be the only officer in Starfleet not at risk," Rixx said.

Tasha cocked her head to the side and her eyes glazed over momentarily as she considered this notion.

"I need to know if you think he can be trusted," Rixx said.

Tasha was momentarily taken aback by the question.

"Lieutenant Commander Data would never do anything to harm the Federation," Tasha said after a few seconds.

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Rixx replied. "I know so little about him. I've read through his service record, but what I need to know is if he can be trusted."

Tasha didn't follow.

"Whatever this is, every single one of the Enterprise's senior officers is vulnerable – including you," Rixx explained. "What I'm asking is, if it comes to it, can the android be trusted to think independently? Do you believe he is capable of autonomous decision making? Can he recognise if orders are dangerous or irrational?"

Tasha blinked a few times and had to remind herself that Rixx wasn't intending to be disrespectful.

"If it comes down to it, will the android be able to make command decisions or is he programmed to follow Picard?" Rixx questioned.

Now Tasha understood what Rixx's line of questioning was for.

"Data is fully capable of individual thought and decision-making. His rank is not honorary. He's earned it in his own right," Tasha said. "And if it weren't for the fact that he's not personally ambitious, he'd have his own command by now."

She took a breath and smiled.

"In his dual roles as the head of both Sciences and Operations, Data makes command decisions every day," Tasha continued. "Probably better than you or I could."

Having said her peace, Tasha waited for Rixx to respond.

He nodded slowly as he considered her endorsement of the android.

"Captain," Tasha began slowly. "In full disclosure, you should be aware that I have a personal relationship with the Lieutenant Commander."

"You are friends," Rixx said.

"More than friends," Tasha responded.

It was out in the open now. Tasha relaxed a bit knowing that she had made an effort to clear up any conflict of interest.

"But I meant what I said. Every word. You should know that I say it as a fellow officer that's worked beside him for two years and seen the kind of man he is," Tasha clarified. "And not because he shares my bed."

"I understand," Rixx replied.

She didn't need to justify her reasons to Captain Rixx.


Meanwhile, back at the reception there had been a marked change of pace. The soft jazz and polite cocktail hour crowd had filtered out. The lights were dimmer, the music was louder, and there was a collective attitude of rolled-up sleeves and partially unbuttoned dress uniforms as the best and brightest of Starfleet let loose.

Deanna had opted to skip out early in the evening. She had promised to spend the evening with her mother in the city before returning to the Enterprise.

Beverly had gone home early too – she'd had a long day with Wesley touring the Academy. Worf (desperate to avoid K'Ehleyr) had offered to walk back with Beverly. He wanted to take a long stroll before returning to the reception hall.

Riker was tearing it up on the dance floor with the Second Officer from the USS Yamato.

Data checked his internal chronometer again. It had been hours. Tasha had still not returned from her meeting with Captain Rixx.

And there wasn't much happening at the table to occupy Data's mind.

Miles and Geordi were still arguing over the merits of third nacelle – much to the chagrin of Captain Picard and Data.

"Will the two of you give it a rest already?" Captain Picard asked. "Grab a drink. Take a swing on the dance floor. Eat something! The Berellian confectioneries are quite excellent."

Agreeing to a temporary truce, the two men set off in search of the buffet table.

Data had sat quietly studying the room, happy for the chance to engage in one of his favourite hobbies. People-watching provided Data with a unique opportunity to study humanoid behaviour and with so many targets it was hard to focus.

"Mr Data," Picard said. "If I've never made clear just how deeply I appreciate our friendship and the ability to quietly enjoy the evening together, then let me just say I cannot begin to thank you enough."

"Hmm," Data nodded.

Geordi and Miles returned with a plate of food each.

"You were right, Captain," Miles said as he took a seat. "These Berellian confectionaries are delicious."

"They're not bad, but it's like they're missing something," Geordi said. "Like they need a little salt to balance the sweetness from the chocolate."

Geordi's face scrunched up as he tried to think of the name of the food it reminded him of.

"Ossian cocoa nibs," Geordi said with a snap of his fingers.

Miles stopped. He dropped his fork and shot Geordi a look.

"What?" Geordi shrugged.

"This is the best damn thing I've tasted in ages," Miles said. "And you compare it to an Ossian cocoa nib?"

"Because that's what it tastes like!" Geordi exclaimed.

"This is far better quality than a cocoa nib," Miles countered.

Across the table, Captain Picard set down his saucer of tea. He leaned back and took a heavy breath as he listened to the two men debate the finer points of confectionaries.


"Here. Try the green," Rixx said as he passed Tasha one the sauce offerings.

Their meeting had gone so long that they'd needed to put food in themselves.

"It's like that citrusy stuff they had the border outpost," Rixx said.

"Mmm," Tasha said, keening in approval.

The spicy flavour hit her tongue, stinging in just the right way.

Most of their time during covert missions, food had been nothing more about surviving from one day to the next. They were lucky to get a grain ration and fry it in machine oil most of the time on G'kantal.

Battle rations were a luxury.

But every once in a while they'd had a chance to experience some real culinary delights – including the best of Bajoran cuisine at a little outpost in a far corner of the Alpha Quadrant.

"Do you remember those cinnamon things we had on Starbase 71?" Rixx asked.

Tasha grinned.

"Yeah. And the shots," Tasha replied.

That had been a rough mission.

Blow the Breen power transformer at 11:00.

Extract the Betinian Ambassador at 11:15.

Try not to kill any hostages.

Meet for a beer and a kebab at 14:30.

"Do you know Dexter Remmick?" Rixx inquired.

"From the Inspector General's office?" Tasha asked as she wiped her hands in her napkin.

Rixx nodded.

Remmick shared the suspicions of Captain Rixx. Furthermore, as a member of the Inspector General's office, Remmick had the ability to move about freely without drawing unwanted attention.

"Remmick is concerned about outside influence in the Command Structure. And rightly so," Rixx explained.

"Do you trust him?" Tasha inquired.

"I don't trust anyone," Rixx answered honestly. "And neither should you."

Rixx glanced at the digital time display on the wall.

"I should get back before my absence is noted," Rixx said.

They had been chatting for hours. While it wasn't unexpected for senior officers to sneak off for a meal or private reunion with friends, Rixx was mindful not to raise any suspicion about his movements.

"I can't ask you to help me," Rixx said. "The risk of being involved in something like this-"

"You don't need to say it," Tasha assured him. "I know."

Rixx advised that he would be in touch covertly. He encouraged Tasha to reach out if she noticed anything suspicious on the Enterpriseand instructed her to use secured, private channels only for relaying information.

They agreed on a double codeword system for communications. One code if they were communicating freely and a second to use if they were being forced to relay a communication.

"And Tasha," Rixx warned as he gripped her arm. "Do not trust anyone."

They left separately, Rixx stepping away first to return to the conference and re-join his crew.

Tasha waited fifteen minutes and then slipped back out on the streets of San Francisco. It was a warm night and there was little breeze coming off the bay.

Nevertheless, Tasha shivered.

At fifteen she had wandered these streets free of fear. Now every shadow seemed to give her pause.

If San Francisco itself wasn't safe, nowhere felt safe.

Tasha didn't want to return to the reception. She wanted to be on the Enterprise.


The reception had reached the point of rowdy. Orders for real alcohol now outpaced the synthetic stuff and it was starting to show.

Admiral Jarreau led a conga line across the room. One table over, the senior officers of the USS Kuiper roared with laughter as another person failed to perform a difficult pub trick.

Jean-Luc massaged his temples.

"Sir?" Data prompted, sensing the Captain's frayed nerves.

"This techno music is making my head hurt," Picard replied.

Each thumping beat of the bass seemed to reverberate right through his body.

Data's brow furrowed. He glanced at one of the speakers in the corner and back to the Captain.

"Sir, this style of music is best classified as Risian Deep Club Track and-"

Data cut himself off.

"And it is not important at the moment," Data concluded.

Data found the sound hypnotic – if not a bit repetitive.

"I think I've had my fill for the evening," Picard announced.


Geordi, Miles, Riker, Worf, and Data had all opted to head back with the Captain.

They had a big day tomorrow with their final resupply and retrofit before returning to space for their mission to the Jarada sector.

It would be a full day, and everyone was ready to turn in for the night.

Even Commander Riker was ready for a good night's sleep.

They were on their way out of the reception when Geordi and Miles resumed their earlier debate on the nacelles.

"Data, you still haven't given us an answer," Geordi reminded him.

"Geordi," Data said as he turned back to look at him. "I do not wish to-"

Data collided with something.

Or rather, someone.

Two Lieutenants were helping a tall Lieutenant Commander up off the pavement.

"Watch where you're going, tin can," one of them snapped.

"It's fine," the Lieutenant Commander drawled as he dusted himself off. "I'm sure we can't fault the android for a programming failure."

Data was about to apologise when he recognised the sandy-haired Lieutenant Commander as the same one Tasha had been keen to avoid the night of the reunion.

Lieutenant Commander Christopher Hobson.

For a moment the two stared at one another, saying nothing.

"Is there a problem?" Commander Riker asked.

The Lieutenant Commander looked Riker up and down and then smiled.

"You're from the Enterprise," he remarked in astonishment. "It's the android."

He studied Data carefully. Data recognised the look. He'd experienced it plenty of times before whenever someone viewed him as a spectacle of entertainment. One of the Lieutenants hollered back across the campus to a fellow officer, encouraging them to come check out 'that android from the Enterprise.'

"Yes, we are," Captain Picard said, stepping forward. "As my First Officer asked, is there a problem?"

His tone was polite, yet firm.

"No, no," Hobson assured him.

He seemed amused by the fact they were from the flagship. His voice dripped with the sort of lazy, aristocratic drawl found amongst 'legacy' families.

For a moment, Data was struck by how much it reminded him of Admiral Walsh.

"Then I believe we should be on our way," Captain Picard said in an attempt to urge his officers to keep moving.

Jean-Luc had been in his own fair share of scraps over the years as a young man at these sorts of events. He had no desire to repeat the experience with his crew in tow.

"Do me a favour?" Hobson requested.

He smirked, doing his best to hide just how amused he was by his own luck.

"Tell Natasha Yar that 'tiger says hi buttercup'," Hobson said as the group from the Enterprise began to walk away.

"Yeah sure. Whatever, man," Geordi said, grateful this guy couldn't see him roll his eyes behind his visor.

There was no way Geordi was telling Tasha that.

"No," Data said simply, refusing to move.

Geordi and the rest of the guys stopped.

Data was staring at Lieutenant Commander Hobson. He refused to move or back away.

If Geordi didn't know better, he'd say Data looked angered. A look of curiosity passed between Riker and Picard.

Miles was watching the exchange with concern, ready to step in to back up Data if necessary.

Worf glanced around, mindful of the number of officers present as he evaluated their position.

Hobson scoffed.

"We're old friends," he assured Data, assuming an android was incapable of understanding the social situation.

Hobson grinned and turned to his buddies.

"You remember the one," Hobson said.

The other men snickered with laughter. The inside joke was lost on Data, but the implication of such a comment was not.

Data's neural net surged. His coolant system was working overtime. And in less than 0.00017 seconds, Data had contemplated dozens of possible things he would like to do to put this man in his place.

The rational side of his brain won out and Data settled on words.

"She was a child," Data said in a dangerously low voice.

To Data's disgust, the Lieutenant Commander chuckled in response.

"She stopped being a child longbefore she met me," he said with a wink as he pat Data on the shoulder.

Data gripped Hobson's hand on his shoulder – controlling himself enough not to break it, but hard enough to make clear that he did not appreciate being touched by this man.

He was too furious for words.

Data didn't know the details of what Tasha's relationship with the Lieutenant Commander entailed, but he knew enough.

She had intentionally avoided him – her reaction was one of fear at the prospect of having to face him. It was unlike Tasha to hide from anything.

She had called him an ex-boyfriend.

Tasha had specifically stated their relationship had occurred during her time at the Academy. In particular, she had specified her first year as a cadet.

No, Data did not know the details.

But he knew that Tasha had been a child and this man had taken advantage of her.

And the thought of that made his bio-coolant fluid boil.

Data leaned in close enough and dropped his voice so that no one else present could hear what was said.

"She was a child. You were not. You are-" Data whispered to Hobson.

"Unhand me," Hobson hissed under his breath.

Data released his hand, and the man adjusted his collar in an effort to regain some sense of confidence. It wasn't just an ego-bruise, Data had called out Hobson as an abuser.

Captain Picard could sense something was wrong.

"We should be heading back to McKinley station," Picard said.

It was an attempt to diffuse the situation.

And it wasn't successful.

Seeing no alternative, Captain Picard stepped back to stand beside the two men who were staring at one another in anger.

"I'd appreciate you passing along the message," the man said with feigned politeness. "You see we used to be quite close."

Hobson could tell he'd gotten under Data's skin. He smirked.

"She was, of course, much younger than," Hobson went on, twisting the knife. "But I am sure she'll remember me."

Data clenched his fists. His lips were so thin they had nearly disappeared.

"If you're unwilling to do so, perhaps I'll request to stop by the Enterprise then tomorrow now that I know it's docked at McKinley?" Hobson suggested.

Data's eyes widened ever so slightly. The very nerve of this man seemed to grate on fibre of Data's construction – a fact that Lieutenant Commander Hobson had picked up on.

"Like I said, I'm an old friend," he repeated.

Data gripped the front of Hobson's uniform.

"She does not want to see you," Data declared.

He did not wish to embarrass Tasha in front of her colleagues by airing such a sensitive subject. But he had made a promise to Tasha.

He'd sworn Hobson would never hurt her again. And after seeing his own abuser at the same reunion, Data knew just what sort of feelings of fear it could evoke – particularly if Hobson dropped by the Enterprise.

Into their home.

Hobson scoffed, the corner of his mouth curving upward as if he found the entire situation a sick delight. Suddenly, he was struck by a strange notion.

He gasped softly.

"Are you?"

Hobson trailed off and laughed, amused.

"Are you even capable of-"

Data tightened his grip on Hobson's collar, hoping to send a message that this was anything but entertaining.

That caught the cocky Lieutenant Commander's attention.

Data forcibly dragged Hobson away from the rest of the group. He pinned Christopher up against one of the concrete pillars that lined the front of the Academic Admissions office.

"She's an old girlfriend, alright?" Hobson said, putting up his hands in surrender. "We were at the Academy together… in a manner of speaking."

In truth, Christopher Hobson had been stationed at Starfleet HQ working as an attaché to the Academy.

"She was a child. You took advantage of that," Data countered. "Nota girlfriend."

For once, Hobson was truly terrified.

He looked Data up and down as if trying to determine the best course of action. The other men were rushing over to pull Data off and Hobson felt time was on his side.

"I didn't do anything she wasn't asking for," Hobson remarked.

Data had to fight against the urge to haul Hobson down to the Security Office and demand he be remanded on charges.

He reminded himself that he technically didn't know any details. Such a course of action would likely only upset Tasha and Hobson and would walk away smug as ever.

Captain Picard had heard enough. He didn't want to risk one of his officers (especially Data) winding up in the Brig overnight or the receiving end of a formal disciplinary report.

"We're not permitting any visitors for the remainder of our stay," Picard said with an air of finality. "Our business requires we complete our resupply mission and be on our way. I'm sure you understand."

"Commander," Worf said softly as he put his hand on Data's shoulder.

Data released the front of Hobson's uniform.

"Of course, Captain," Christohper said.

With a short nod, he made to leave. Hobson pushed past Data, hitting his shoulder hard which had only served to injure himself and not the duranium construction of Data's skeletal system.

Data's eyes narrowed as he watched Hobson strut off with his comrades.

Data said nothing and avoided eye contact with the Captain as they walked forward to join the rest of the guys.

"Oh, and Captain?" Hobson called back. "Maybe get that android checked out before he has another programming malfunction?"

Data stopped and turned, overcome with a strange sensation and ready to march back to the arrogant man. Miles and Geordi rushed forward to stop Data.

"Whoa, whoa," Miles said, putting his hand on Data's chest.

"Data, he's not worth it," Geordi assured him as he gripped Data's bicep.

Worf was ready to jump in as well. He took a step forward, but Commander Riker had reluctantly put out an arm to stop him.

"Let him go," Riker urged.

Data took a series of slow, artificial breaths in an effort to regulate his coolant system. He said nothing as he watched Hobson grin and walk off, satisfied with his ability to get the last word in.

Data was simultaneously enraged and anxious.

He was warm – and not in the kind of cosy, delightful way that things like a good piece of music or a soft, post-coital cuddle made him feel.

Data could not recall a time when he had ever felt such a strong sense of uncontrollable anger. It was as if he wanted to smash something with his hands. Truthfully, Data didn't know what he would have done had his friends not stopped him.

And that frightened him.

He said nothing on their way to the transporter station.

Data understood he had experienced a strong emotional reaction. But it hadn't felt good. And the subsequent emotional drop of such a sensation could only be characterised as a blend of pain and shame.

It made him feel sick inside, like a bitter aftertaste from an unpleasant drink.

"Data, who was that man?" Captain Picard asked.

Data hesitated.

"Is that order, sir? Or a request I am permitted to ignore?" Data asked to clarify.

Picard nodded in understanding.

"That guy was a royal creep," Geordi remarked.

"Seemed like a right tosser," Miles said in agreement.

As they waited to transport back to the McKinley station, Data stared off at the dark bay hundreds of metres below.

Picard came to sit by Data (who had chosen a seat some distance from the rest of the team).

"Data, what was that about?" Captain Picard inquired. "Would you like to talk?"

"Please do not mention this to Lieutenant Yar," Data asked without looking away from the window.


Data counted every step to Tasha's door.

With each one came an increased difficultly to hold himself together.

The journey felt like it took twice as long as normal. Data's ability to track time down to the millisecond only amplified that feeling.

A part of Data wanted to run, to rush out and reach Tasha's door as quickly as possible.

But Geordi had snagged his arm on the way off the transporter pad. He could sense something was off.

"Data? Do you want to talk?" Geordi asked.

Only Data didn't want to talk. He wanted to crumple into a ball on the floor.

Is this shame? Data pondered.

He struggled to identify his feelings. There were too many different emotions – strong emotions – coursing through his body.

"Not at this time," Data managed to answer.

Geordi gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Alright. When you're ready you know where to find me," Geordi said.


Data didn't bother with the chime.

He let himself into Tasha's quarters. He knew she would understand.

Data glanced around in a panic. Her quarters were dark, and Data was worried Tasha was still down in San Francisco.

It wasn't very late. She may have gone back to the reception.

Steeling himself for the worst, Data slid open the door that led to Tasha's bedroom.

He felt an instant sense of relief.

Tasha was fast asleep in bed. Her tablet was clutched in one hand, and it was evident she must have drifted off while reading.

Data kicked off his boots and carefully crawled in next to her.

Tasha could sleep through anything – so didn't think she would even stir when he spooned up beside her.

He snaked his arms around her body and pulled Tasha in close, burying his head against her waist.

Before long, Data broke down.

His shoulders shook as he sobbed openly against her body.

"Hey?" Tasha said, stirring awake.

As she set her tablet down on the nightstand, Tasha became aware of her surroundings.

"Data?" she asked, concerned.

He didn't respond.

He couldn't.

Words failed him. His throat was too tight.

Even if he could have spoken in that moment, Data didn't have words to describe his feelings.

"Data?" Tasha tried again.

She made an attempt to roll over, but Data clung to her like he was desperate to hang on.

"Data," Tasha said in a smooth voice.

She reached back to stroke his hair and rub his back – anything she could do at that angle.

Eventually, she managed to pry one of Data's hands off and moved to hold him.

"Data, look at me," Tasha urged.

She cupped his face as hot, thick tears streamed down over his pale bioplast. His face was wet. The front of his uniform was soaked.

"Data? What happened?" Tasha asked.

She had only ever seen him cry twice before – once in a moment of unbridled happiness and again after their experience with Q and his deadly game.

"What do you need?" Tasha inquired as she thumbed away the tears.

Data pulled her into an embrace, shaking as the toll of such a strong emotional experience poured out on her shoulder.

"I-I do n-not w-w-want these em-motions," Data sobbed.

"What happened?" Tasha repeated.

"I d-d-do not want to f-feel like this," Data confessed.

He was terrified. Confused.

Never before had such a powerful emotional response left him feeling so wretched.

Data couldn't stop the tears. He no longer felt like he was in control of himself.

And for an android who was so new to exploring his emotions, such a notion was a terrifying prospect.

His mind had been racing since the interaction with Christopher Hobson. Data's strength and speed meant that he had to carefully control the amount of force exerted for every interaction with other beings.

Even simple things like a handshake or a kiss required careful precision so as not to harm another.

Data could have seriously injured Lieutenant Commander Hobson.

It would have ended his career in Starfleet.

Hell, such an action could have landed him back in the custody of people like Bruce Maddox.

Data's mind spiralled out of control into an uncomfortable stream of consciousness as he theorised all the ways these emotions could lead to him losing everything.

His commission.

His friends.

Tasha.

His rights.

Tasha had no idea what had occurred, but she could see Data was in pain.

She wasn't sure what to say.

In truth, she didn't think there was anything she couldsay to console him.

"I do not want to feel," Data cried.

His whole body trembled. He shook his hands as if to shake away water.

Tasha rubbed his back, hoping to offer some small reassurance while he cried it all out.

"I am n-not capable of handling these feelings," Data snivelled. "I have f-f-failed. I am, I am malfunctioning."

"No, you're not," Tasha replied.

"I am broken," Data sobbed.

"No. You are not," Tasha assured him.

She tightened her embrace, squeezing her eyes shut to fight off her own set of tears. It broke her heart to know Data was in such distress.

"It's not a failure," she assured him. "In fact, it's very human to not want to feel sometimes."

She rested her hand on the back of his head.

"Especially when it hurts," she went on.

Data understood crying was a normal human behaviour.

But this felt different.

The physical and mental reality of experiencing such an emotionally triggering event was greater than anything he'd imagined.

Data felt like he was losing control.

Based on what he witnessed from his human friends, emotional turmoil could last for days, weeks, sometimes even years.

It was a wound with no immediate remedy.

And it stung.

"T-T-Tasha, will you deactivate m-me?" Data wept. "A-a-and reactive me in-n-n a few hours?"

Data didn't want to feel anything. He simply wanted to rest.

Temporary deactivation would enable him to stop this emotional sensation.

And it was Data's hope that when he was to be reactivated, the feeling would have passed.

"No," Tasha refused.

She leaned back, cupping Data's face.

Her face was etched with worry.

"I won't do that," Tasha said adamantly. "I'm sorry. But I will not do that."

"P-please," Data pleaded.

He sniffled, his lip quivering as another wave of tears welled up in his golden eyes.

Tasha's face fell. Her eyes were full of pity, her heart swelled with empathy.

"Whatever happened, the pain isn't going to go away simply because you turn yourself off for a few hours," Tasha said.

It was part of the reason she was reluctant to accommodate his request.

"Data, this won't be the last time something happens to cause you this kind of emotional response. Pain is a part of life," Tasha explained. "You can't get in the habit of shutting yourself off simply because it's hard."

She was concerned that if he were to do so, he would fail to confront whatever the cause was. In Tasha's eyes, activating and deactivating himself was no different than turning to narcotics or a holodeck addiction to escape from the reality of pain.

"You have to find a healthy way to cope," Tasha encouraged.

She pulled him into a tight hug.

"You're going to feel pain again. That's just life," Tasha went on. "But it doesn't make the pain any less valid. It doesn't mean you should run away from it."

Data knew she was right.

After a few seconds, he returned the embrace.

"Oh Data, I'm so sorry you have to go through this," Tasha said.

She placed a tender kiss on the top of his head as he wept in her lap.

"And I will alwaysbe here for you when it happens," Tasha promised.

They stayed like that for some time. Data cried without ceasing as Tasha stroked his hair and rubbed soothing circles in his back.

He clutched her leg and sobbed.

At some point, Data became aware that Tasha was rocking him back and forth. And she was singing.

He had never heard the song before. The melody was unfamiliar, and the words were foreign.

Turkanan.

As he listened to the strange, beautiful words of Tasha's native tongue, Data's tears began to slow.

Eventually, Data reached for Tasha's hand. He gave it a small squeeze, indicating that he had come back to the world.

He could feel her relax underneath him.

Tasha guided Data to lay down properly on the bed. She spooned up behind him and kissed his shoulder.

"I love you, Data," she whispered, tightening her grip. "I love you today. I love you tomorrow. And I love you always."

It was Data that initiated sex that night.

They made love slowly and spoke little during the act.

When they were finished, Tasha let Data cling to her like he had before.

"I am sorry," Data said. "I-"

"Shhh," Tasha said. "I think it's a very healthy coping mechanism… when it's with someone you love."

Data kissed the side of her face, lingering there as if to wordlessly convey his own feelings on the matter.

He hadn't thought about his encounter with Hobson nor his fears during sex. There were no doubts, no feelings of being out of control.

In fact, Data had felt completely at ease.

Being with Tasha felt comfortable.

He wished he could bottle that feeling and hang onto it always.


By the next day, Data had started to put words to his feelings.

Geordi had been patient and encouraging when they spoke in the lab. But just as he had the night before, Data was reluctant to elaborate.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's alright. No pressure," Geordi assured him. "I just want to be sure you're talking to somebody."

"Thank you, Geordi," Data said.

And he meant it.

"I-" Data paused, searching for the right word. "I will admit I was in an uncomfortable emotional position last night. One that I have never experienced before."

Data set the crate he was carrying down and took a deep, synthetic breath.

"It was unsettling," Data admitted.

Geordi turned back to his work and assured Data he was there to listen if he wanted an ear.

"Geordi, what do you do when you get angry?" Data inquired.

It was a question that had weighed heavily on his mind since the night before.

In considering Tasha's advice to find a healthy coping mechanism, Data had drawn on the experience of those around him.

Data knew he would not find the same serotonin boost as Tasha did from a long run. Nor would he find the sense of escape Deanna got at the bottom of a chocolate sundae.

Riker always turned to music.

Date found solace in music. But it wasn't enough to completely distract him.

He needed more. He needed something that overwhelmed his neural net, something to drive away all other thoughts.

Geordi gave Data a number of suggestions. But there were all ideas Data had previously considered and rejected.

"I appreciate your feedback, Geordi," Data began. "However, I find that such activities do not provide sufficient processing capacity requirements to enable me to divert my attention."

Geordi nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip for a moment as he considered Data's statement.

"Yes," Data said. "Perhaps I could find a way to slow down my processing? A manual buffer."

Geordi crossed his arms and leaned back against the crates. He moved his head side to side as he tried to think about how to help Data.

He was reluctant to suggest tinkering with Data's programming to find a solution. He didn't think that was the way to go about fixing this and Geordi was none too keen to play surgeon.

I'm an engineer, not a doctor. Geordi had often quipped.

"Data, wouldn't it be better to try and find something that occupies more of your neural net rather than trying to implement some artificial limit?" Geordi suggested. "Maybe up the ante a little?"

"Up my ante?" Data inquired. "Are you suggesting more poker?"

Geordi chuckled.

"Maybe. What I'm saying is find whatever activity takes the most of your processing and do it," Geordi clarified. "Just focus on it a little more than you usually would."

Data blinked, attempting to comprehend Geordi's idea.

"You like listening to music. Maybe instead of doing ten songs at once, you do twelve?" Geordi proposed. "Or instead of painting on a canvas, head to the holodeck and paint a mural?"

Geordi shrugged.

"Whatever you like to do… do more of it," Geordi suggested. "Throw yourself into it. Completely."

"Hmm," Data replied as he considered this idea.


Across the ship, Tasha was on her way down to conduct a manual inspection of some of the inventory they'd brought onboard.

It was a necessary, but time-consuming part of the job.

Tasha stepped onto the lift and nodded to Captain Picard.

She could tell he was on edge about the upcoming Jarada mission. Tasha was doing everything she could to ensure this inventory went smoothly because of it.

One less thing for the Captain to worry about. Tasha thought.

Tasha didn't blame Picard or think his concern about the upcoming mission was a weakness.

The Jarada mission had them all on edge.

"How is your speech to the Jarada coming along?" Tasha inquired.

"Fine, fine," Picard replied simply.

"I'm sure it will be great," Tasha assured him, hoping to relay her confidence in his abilities.

Even Captain's needed encouragement from time to time.

Captain sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Everything alright, sir?" Tasha inquired, noting that the Captain's posture seemed tense.

"Just a damned headache," Picard replied.

It had started the night before and Jean-Luc suspected he knew why.

"And how was your friend?" Picard asked.

He was eager to change the subject.

"Fine," Tasha replied, flashing him a false smile.

Her response was short and cryptic. She didn't want to reveal the nature of her meeting with Captain Rixx lest it raise suspicion.

"And Mr Data?" Picard inquired.

He'd been worried about his Second Officer ever since the incident.

"Sir? Did something happen last night at the reception when you were with Data?" Tasha asked.

She wanted to get to the bottom of the matter. Tasha had asked Data over breakfast, and he had politely declined to discuss the matter.

"I believe that is a conversation best had between you and Commander Data," Picard responded.

Jean-Luc had no desire to betray Data's trust. It was evident that whatever had occurred had been enough to set Data off.

Picard had only caught a snippet of the conversation. He was aware Tasha's name had come up. And evidently the man involved had known her at some point.

"Sir, please," Tasha pressed.

She wasn't going to let him get away with firing a torpedo like that with no follow up. Between the Captain's strange apology and Data's emotional breakdown, it was clear something had occurred at the reunion.

"Mr Data had a rather terse conversation with another officer," Picard offered.

Tasha's blood ran cold.

"Maddox? A Commander Bruce Maddox?" she demanded. "The Cyberneticist?"

It had to be.

Tasha could fathom no other reason why Data would be so on edge.

Knowing what she did of the man, Tasha wouldn't put it past Maddox to seek Data out just to remind him of his torment.

"No," Jean-Luc said, shaking his head.

The man Data had words with was only a Lieutenant Commander and his uniform had indicated he served in the Command branch rather than Sciences.

"Some Lieutenant Commander. Rather smug."

"You're sure? Commander Bruce Maddox?" Tasha pressed.

She was hoping to jog his memory.

"He's thin. Dark hair. Tall," Tasha described.

Picard shook his head.

"No. This gentleman was tall but had light hair. Name was Christopher, I believe," Picard explained.

It had been his intention to set Tasha at ease.

But an unmistakable look of terror flashed in her eyes before Tasha quickly recovered.

Inside, Tasha was mortified.

Had Data confronted him?

"Thank you, sir," Tasha said, turning her attention back to the doors of the turbolift.

She folded her hands behind her back and straightened her posture.

"I'm sure it was nothing," Tasha lied.


By the time she reached Data's lab, Tasha was practically beside herself.

She knew it was stupid to assume Data thought any less of her. Tasha understood that she shouldn't feel ashamed of herself, or her body.

Her sex life.

And yet it was impossible to drive away such intrusive thoughts.

Geordi didn't question Tasha's request to speak with Data alone. He simply nodded and made himself scarce.

Data frowned as he observed Tasha.

She was pacing and picking at her fingernails. She checked twice to ensure they were truly alone before she whipped around – facing Data but unable to meet his eye.

"Data, I… I want you to know that whatever he said to you last night, whatever he told you about me-"

She paused. Her lower lip started to tremble.

"That was a different time in my life and I didn't know that he-"

Tasha stopped herself again.

In hindsight, Tasha could clearly see the pattern of manipulation and abuse. But at fifteen, she had been desperate to belong.

"I wanted to be anything but a girl from Turkana," Tasha confessed.

She was crying freely now.

"And if I could take it all back, I would," she sobbed.

Her voice cracked.

"I didn't know. I never agreed," she went on, furiously shaking her head. "I was so drunk the night they-"

Tasha broke down against Data as he captured her in a tight embrace.

"You have to know I'm not… I never wanted-"

Data shushed her gently.

"Tasha, whatever he did to you has no bearing on my feelings for you," Data assured her.

He stepped back and cupped her face, forcing Tasha to meet his eyes.

"I do not know what he did to you. And I do not need to know unless you wish to reveal it," Data continued. "That is for you to decide. But know that I love you."

He smiled as he tucked her bangs back behind her ear.

"And should you wish to share it, I will still love you. And if it is your desire to never share it – I will still love you," Data promised.

He pressed a tender kiss against her forehead.

"I am sorry to have caused you distress," Data apologised.

"I'm sorry," Tasha insisted.

As they stood there in a tight embrace, Data figured it might be time to discuss the encounter.

"We ran into one another. We physically bumped into each other. It was unintended," Data said.

Tasha could just envision Hobson's reaction.

"He identified us as the crew from the Enterprise. And made a request that we pass along a greeting to you," Data said.

He did not elaborate on the exact language.

"I refused. And I will confess that I allowed my emotions to get the better of me," Data shared.

Data was still torn between feeling embarrassed about his reaction and a small sense of pride from calling Hobson out.

"He made a number of vague statements regarding your relationship," Data explained. "He did not elaborate – other than to imply he was a former lover."

Data felt Tasha's stiff posture loosen.

For the first time since the lift, Tasha felt like she could breathe.

"I know that you are reluctant to speak with Counsellor Troi on this matter," Data began to say.

Tasha stepped back and smiled.

"No. No, I'm fine," she said.

She gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

"I am so sorry for whatever happened last night. I'm sure he was right arse to you," Tasha said.

Data responded with a bashful smile.

"I may have grabbed his collar in a manner most unbecoming for a Starfleet officer," Data confessed.

Tasha laughed.

"Data, I don't need you to-"

She didn't need or want Data fighting her battles.

"Please know that my anger was not rooted in antiquated notions of chivalry. I cannot explain it other than to say I was so angered that someone, anyone, would seek to harm you," Data clarified.

Tasha clutched the back of his uniform.

"Again, I'm sorry you had to encounter him," Tasha apologised.

"He is most unpleasant," Data said.

They shared a laugh.

"Are you going to be alright?" Tasha asked.

"Are you?" Data asked in response.

Tasha lifted her head to meet Data's gaze.

"I will be tonight. Once we're home," Tasha said.

Home.

"Your place or mine?" Tasha asked.

"I believe I would like the stars tonight," Data said.

Tasha flashed him a brilliant smile.

"Mine it is then," she teased.


Shortly after 19:00 hours, Data stopped by to check on Tasha's progress.

The final inventory and Security check was running behind schedule. There had been a paperwork error in the Chemistry department that triggered a procedural chain of events leading to the delay.

In accordance with standard operating procedure, Tasha's Security team had to run another manual inspection of all the new inventory.

Tasha groaned as she felt a familiar pair of hands work out the tension in her shoulders.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked.

"I wanted to check on you," Data answered.

He had finished his own checklist already.

"So, you thought you'd come down here and sweep me off my feet?" Tasha asked.

"No," Data replied.

He reached around and took hold of the PADD.

"I came down here as your Chief Operations Officer to help you finish this before 20:00 hours as Captain Picard would like to get underway," Data said.

The Captain had wanted to depart 18:00 hours and they were already an hour overdue.

"I believe that the Captain is eager to leave as the sooner we leave the quicker we can drop off Mrs Troi at Starbase 121," Data added.

"I can only imagine," Tasha grinned as she turned around.

Mrs Troi had a soft spot for Jean-Luc (much to his chagrin). She also enjoyed travelling on the Enterprise because it gave her a chance to spend time with Deanna.

Most of the crew enjoyed her presence. In particular, Guinan had struck up quite a friendship with the Betazoid Ambassador.

However, Captain Picard had a sneaky habit of disappearing whenever Mrs Troi was on board.

"She will be with us for several weeks," Data advised.

Tasha bit back a smirk.

"I'm sure the Captain was thrilled to hear that," Tasha said as she knelt down to inspect the code on one of the storage containers.

Data's brow furrowed.

"I would not describe his reaction as thrilled," Data said.

Tasha glanced up and smiled.

"Ah. I see," Data said.

Tasha pulled herself and tapped the screen to check off one of the items on her list.

"What do you say to dinner first and then a hot shower? I could murder a tray of sandwiches right now," Tasha said.

Lunch had been nothing more than a quick wrap – and she'd eaten that on the go between decks.

"If that is your wish," Data said.

Tasha stopped and set down her tablet.

"What do you want to do tonight?" Tasha asked.

Data shrugged.

"Sandwiches and a shower sound nice. And perhaps we could read together?" Data asked.

Tasha nodded. She was beaming.

Ever since the start of their relationship, reading together had become a near nightly ritual. Data loved to listen to Tasha narrate stories.

Occasionally, he was the one to read aloud.

But most of the time it was Tasha. So rarely had Data ever experienced someone that wanted to do something for him.

He also liked to listen to her inflection and emotional change while reading. Tasha never laughed or mocked Data when he had questions about certain phrases or character choices.

And there were plenty of times Tasha asked Data to tap into his vast informational base of knowledge to explain a historical event or unusual word.

They both found so much joy in reading together that they spent most of their nights snuggled down on the sofa with a glass of whisky or wine pouring over the contents of a good book.

"I'm almost done on this level and then I just need to check in with Worf," Tasha said.

Data pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

"Then I shall see you within the hour," Data said before slipping away.


It was nearly midnight when Tasha finally slipped out of her boots. She unclipped her combadge and set it down on the end table by the door.

She was too exhausted to even think.

Tasha punched the top left button on the replicator, shuffling around her quarters on autopilot.

With a whisky in hand, she collapsed onto the sofa and let her head fall back.

She didn't even have the energy to take that first sip.

Astromycology hadn't meantto bring aboard a culture of Crescare Cornu-Damaemushrooms.

They couldn't have known that the unique combination of the Galaxy-class containment field and the Security tricorder scan would interact with the mushroom's cellular structure.

And there was no way to predict that such an interaction would cause the perfect growing conditions for the rapidly expanding and dangerously unique fungi.

It seemed the containment fields used around the Enterpriseprovided an energy signature not unlike the fungi's native habitat. It allowed them to rapidly expand and latch onto the atmospheric air delivery systems. Starting at deck eighteen, they had quickly expanded from there.

Less than an hour after piecing together the problem, the fungi had encompassed the air filtration on six decks.

The fungi was particularly dangerous because it released toxic spores that caused a fast-moving toxin that led to organ failure in a matter of hours.

Doctor Crusher had instituted a quarantine. Tasha, Data, and a whole joint team from Operations and Medical had crawled around every inch of the ship's ventilation in specialised suits to eradicate it.

So much for the evening. Tasha mused.

The door to her quarters slid open. A moment later, Tasha felt Data take the whisky from her hand. He set it down on the table for fear she would fall asleep.

"Shall I prepare a meal for you?" Data offered.

It had been nearly twelve hours since Tasha had last eaten anything.

Tasha groaned and shook her head.

Shea was too tired to eat.

"I don't think I could ahhhhh-"

Tasha keened as Data massaged the bottom of her throbbing feet.

"I'm sorry," Tasha mumbled.

"Why?" Data inquired.

"I don't want to read anything tonight," Tasha explained. "I don't even think I can look at a PADD again until tomorrow."

She'd spent far too many hours staring at a screen. Tasha had no desire to repeat the experience now.

"You know how I said sometimes humans want to not feel?" Tasha asked.

"Yes," Data replied with curiosity.

"This is one of those times," Tasha replied with a soft laugh.

She was utterly drained – emotionally and physically.

Tasha cracked one of her eyes open and studied Data.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

It had been a little over twenty-four hours since Data's emotional breakdown.

"While I am coping, I do find it unnerving that the feelings remain," Data confessed. "They are there. Ever-present. Unrelenting."

Tasha turned to meet his eyes. Her own expression was glazed, her eyes half-lidded.

"And while I am functioning in spite of this, I find myself longing to escape from such mental preoccupation," Data sighed.

Tasha smiled.

Data looked confused by her reaction.

"Sometimes I think you're the most human of all of us," Tasha remarked.

Of that she was certain.

"You just need to find a way to blow off some steam," Tasha said.

She yawned and stretched, feeling a delicious crack in her neck as she did so.

Suddenly, an idea popped into her mind.

"You know, we've got an hour before that briefing tomorrow? We could get lunch together. Take it to the arboretum or one of the viewing windows and catch up on a few chapters," Tasha suggested.

It would be nice to curl up in some quiet corner of the ship with a Data and a campy horror novel.

"I would like that," Data replied.

"Then it's a date," Tasha said.

Tasha collapsed against Data's shoulder. She was simply content to sit side by side as they travelled through the stars.

But the moment couldn't last forever.

"Ugh," Tasha grumbled after a few minutes. "I need to shower and go to bed."

She had zero desire to get up.

Tasha knew her neck and back would not appreciate her sleeping on the sofa. And Data, in his desire for her to get rest, would never dream of moving her once she was out.

"Would you like assistance?" Data inquired.

"No thanks," Tasha replied through a heavy yawn.

With considerable effort, she hauled herself to her feet.

"That doesn't mean you aren't welcome to join," Tasha called back.

He heard her turn on the tap and she emerged a moment later, casually leaning against the doorframe.

"After all, we should probably make sure you don't have spores lingering around your bioplast," she grinned.

Data's internal power cell sparked, and he made a beeline to join her.


Normally, Data was mindful to carefully fold his uniform and return it to the garment reprocessor. Then he usually fashioned a spare uniform for the morning and hung it up before they bathed.

Tonight, he had no such intentions.

Data stripped off his uniform. He wouldn't bother to pick it up until the morning.

He stepped into the loo and found Tasha was already in the shower.

Steam started to form on the protective glass panel. Data didn't even waste time snagging a clean towel – he simply slipped into the shower behind Tasha.

Tasha turned around, brushing her bangs back as she let the water run over her hair. A little hot water and steam did wonders for a sore body.

"Do you want me to pick up lunch at Ten Forward tomorrow?" Tasha asked.

Data didn't respond. His mind was somewhere else entirely and he was grateful for the distraction.

"Data?" Tasha prompted.

She reached for her shampoo while awaiting an answer.

Only Data's mind was so preoccupied that he didn't hear the question.

"Data? Is everything alright?" Tasha asked.

Data hadn't said a word since joining her.

"Yes," he replied strangely.

Tasha quickly rinsed her hair and face and then turned to study his expression. She could read in his face that there was something eating away at his brain, and she suspected he was still preoccupied with the emotions that consumed him the night before.

"What are you thinking about?" Tasha asked.

He'd been staring – she assumed – at nothing. Tasha knew he had a habit of glazing over like that whenever he was lost in thought.

"Geordi," Data replied without breaking his gaze.

Tasha bit back a snort of laughter.

She was certainly used to it.

Data's mind worked so fast that he had a tendency to drift to strange places at the oddest of times. Their relationship was anything but typical and, at times, Tasha simply had to roll with the absurd.

She reached for her body wash. Tasha worked it into a lather, teasing Data as she ran her hands over her body in slow, sensual motion.

"You're staring at my wet, naked body and thinking about Geordi?" Tasha asked.

Her tone was anything but angry.

Tasha bit her lip and took a step toward Data, half-expecting him to jump her then and there. Tasha found his quirks endearing.

In fact, she found them a bit of a turn on.

"Yes," Data admitted.

"Hmmm," Tasha said as she reached for him.

She took hold of his cock, stroking him slowly, and was pleased when he grew hard in her hand.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?" Tasha asked in a low voice.

"I am thinking of something Geordi said," Data informed her.

Tasha's hands roamed over his chest. She settled instead for massaging his shoulders as a way to provide physical intimacy in a nonsexual way.

It was clear that whatever it was, it had completely overtaken his mind.

They were too far gone in the spiral to pull back now. Tasha braced herself for a detailed explanation of propulsion theory or seventeenth century proto industrialisation.

Which was alright by Tasha.

If it kept Data's mind off his emotional turmoil for a while and gave him the escape he needed, she was happy to oblige.

"Geordi suggested I should focus on the activities that occupy a significant portion of my processing capacity and, as he said, do them more," Data continued.

She knew it was hard for him to find ways to shut down and relax. His mind worked faster than anything – even the Enterprisecomputer.

"I know it's hard for you to find ways to do that. Maybe Geordi's on to something?" Tasha suggested, voicing support for the idea.

Data was relieved to hear this.

"I have expended considerable effort on the subject today," Data went on. "You are correct, it is difficult to find things that consume a substantial amount of processing capacity. At least, an amount sufficient enough to provide a distraction."

Tasha's heart went out to him.

She reached up with her left hand and cupped his face.

He shuddered at the touch.

"Data, I'm so sorry," Tasha said. "We'll find a way to-"

She stopped as Data captured her lips with his own.

"I believe I already have," Data confessed.

He looked her up and down, running his eyes over her body in the way that made Tasha shiver with anticipation.

Then he pressed a second, lingering kiss against her lips.

"I apologise. I was testing a theory," Data said.

While the kiss had taken her off guard, she wasn't angered by it.

"It's alright," Tasha assured him.

She smiled and ran her hand back through his hair. It was wet now and hanging in his eyes. Tasha was just happy that for the first time since climbing into the shower, he could make eye contact with her.

"I'm just glad you're onto something. Maybe tomorrow you can show me-"

She stopped, taken aback as Data stepped toward her.

"You," Data said, cutting her off. "It is you."

He leaned in close, inches from her mouth.

"Oh," Tasha replied in an uncharacteristically timid voice.

She didn't quite follow. But the way Data was staring at her made Tasha feel warm.

"Us," Data whispered as he reached up to cup her face.

"Oh," Tasha repeated with a different inflection.

This time it wasn't polite confusion.

Tasha Yar had stared down Orion pirates, black-market arms dealers, and Cardassian foot soldiers without so much as flinching.

Yet, she still couldn't fathom how this awkward, soft-spoken Operations officer could make her feel bashful with nothing more than a look.

Tasha was at a loss for words. She instinctively bit her lip.

For Data, it was exactly the kind of thing he needed.

When Data was alone with Tasha, he could shrug off misconceptions about himself. He could risk exploring his own desires.

She didn't find him dull or mechanical. She didn't see him as naïve. And he'd never been a curiosity.

Tasha cared as much about his own rights and feelings as she did her own.

"Us," Data repeated.

The rest was left unsaid.

Data closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth against hers. Tasha's back hit the wall of the shower.

His hands found the back of her thighs.

Data scooped Tasha up.

A soft, stuttering groan of pleasure escaped from Tasha's throat as Data's mouth travelled down the side of her neck and over her collarbone.

He cupped her arse. His fingers dug into the soft flesh there.

With one hand, Data kneaded her breast – earning a small whimper when she squeezed just the right side of too much.

In a flash, Data flipped her around. Tasha was trapped between Data and the cool tile wall. She closed her eyes as his lips ghosted over her shoulders.

He kissed the nape of her neck before moving down the length of Tasha's spine.

Data pressed himself against her. He rolled his hips, teasing Tasha. She could feel his stiff cock in the small of her back – hot and heavy and aching for attention.

"I want you," Data growled in her ear.

Tasha didn't know what to say.

There was something that felt dark and dangerous in Data that night.

Hot. Tasha realised.

For a moment, she was struck by the memory of their ill-fated holiday on the Edo planet precipitated by a once in a lifetime storm and the hottest sex of Tasha's life.

Data's right arm held Tasha flush against him. His hand cupped her breast as he pinched and rolled her nipples.

With his left hand, Data delicately traced the muscle on her thigh and over the curve of her hip – stopping just shy of where Tasha wanted to feel him.

"I want you," Data repeated.

He was rutting against her now.

"I want to bury myself in your snug little cunt," Data said.

Tasha gasped following that comment.

Rarely did Data use such strong language. But with the late hour, the setting, the tension of the conference, and they day they'd had – it struck just the right chord.

"I want to hear you," Data growled.

He nipped the side of Tasha's neck, drawing a small whimper.

"More," Data said, dropping his voice.

Data's long, agile fingers slipped between her thighs to stroke her clitoris.

"Ah," Tasha shuddered as Data bit down on the shell of her ear.

His cock slid between her legs, teasing her clit as he rubbed against her.

"I want you," Data said again. "And then I want to kiss every spot I've made sore."

"Data."

Tasha rocked back against him, wordlessly pleading for him to get on with it. She was so worked up, tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

She shivered as he kissed the spot below her ear.

Because under all of that raw, sexual energy was her tender-hearted android. The one that made her feel safe and desirable when they made love.

The one that would stop if she asked him to.

"Data, please," Tasha urged.

He reached for her hands. Their fingers intertwined with that first, delicious stretch as he slipped in.

"Ah," she hissed as he thrust into her.

It became rhythmic as Data started to move.

Data let his head empty.

No thoughts of duty or inventories.

No memories of the encounter with Hobson.

The feelings he had experienced in the wake of that night disappeared as he plunged himself into his lover.

Data allowed himself to sink into the moment. He took a deep breath, inhaling as the steam penetrated his nasal cavity.

His senses were flooded with her.

There was the soft lavender scent of her shampoo and the warm, sugary aroma of her body wash.

Data could taste her pheromones and the salty perspiration that clung to Tasha's skin.

Data's pace quickened, spurred on by the noises Tasha was making and the feeling of utter abandon. The unmistakable scent of sex clung to the air, choking the atmosphere in the shower, and amplified by the steam.

Tasha plated her hands on the wall. She arched her back, desperate to feel Data go deeper.

She was making the sort of low, throaty noises she had made the first time they'd made love. The kind Tasha usually held back from for fear of being overheard by her neighbours.

Data felt a surge in his neural net. His bioplast prickled. It was a tingling sensation not unlike putting his hand on a live console.

He needed more.

Data suddenly pulled away.

Tasha's whine of complaint quickly turned to a groan of delight. Data spun her around and scooped her up – pulling her back onto his cock so that he might watch Tasha as she came.

The sight of her in ecstasy made Data's power cell want to melt.

Eyes locked on one another, Data grunted as thrust.

Tasha's brow furrowed – not unpleasantly, but in the way it sometimes did whenever the sex was fervent.

Data held her gaze, almost as if daring Tasha to make the next move.

The tempo may have slowed, but Tasha wouldn't call it soft. Data gripped her hips, his fingers dug into the flesh there as he pulled her body down to meet him thrust for thrust.

Tasha knew her cervix was going to bruise but she didn't care.

Nothing else mattered in that moment save for the way Data was looking at her. His hair was wet, slick from the stream of water. It clung to his bioplast and glistened in the low light.

His mouth hung open, almost curling as he focused on the tens of thousands of sensory receptors located on his bioplast.

And his eyes, his eyes were ablaze with a look that indicated he was about to devour her.

Tasha felt small and safe and completely ready to surrender, fully prepared to fucked senseless. She ached for it.

Data captured her lips.

His tongue skimmed across the bow of her mouth, requesting entrance. In sharp contrast, Data's tongue was soft.

And all too soon, it was gone.

Tasha panted and keened and as Data nibbled at the line of her jaw and down over the pulse point of her neck.

His pace quickened.

He dove down to nip at the swell of her breasts, peppering them with a series of sloppy kisses. He nipped and suckled. His teeth grazed across her soft, tender skin.

She whimpered as they pinched the curve of her breast, biting down with enough pressure to elicit a response without breaking the skin.

Tasha clutched his back. Her legs tightened around his waist.

She was trapped between Data and the cool tile wall as Data lost himself under the water between the steam and the sensation of being together.

She felt warm and wet. Data let himself go as he plunged into Tasha. He shut down his extraneous processing and focused solely on the slick sound of their lovemaking.

Tasha's hands found their way to Data's neck. She worked her fingers into his hair, clinging to him for fear she might fall if he were to let go.

Data felt hot.

Too hot. Tasha realised.

She dropped one hand to the back of his neck. His bioplast was almost painfully hot. Tasha hissed and retracted her hand. She was now hyper aware that his body was flush against her own.

It took Tasha a moment to find her voice.

"Data?" she asked.

Suddenly, Tasha realised just how tightly she was pressed against the wall.

"Data?" she repeated, gripping the back of his hair to try and catch his attention.

Data was vaguely aware that Tasha was calling his name, though it took a moment to register that this was not an afterthought of passion.

"Tasha?"

Her name came out as half question, half groan.

"Data, I-"

A loud crack erupted. Data and Tasha stumbled forward through the broken tile and polymer into the interval that separated the walls of her quarters from the corridor.

Data's quick reflexes caught Tasha and stabilised the both of them before she fell to the floor. Holding her with one hand, he instinctively reached for her back.

"Computer, stop the tap," Tasha ordered.

The last she needed was flood damaged.

"Ah!"

Tasha winced as Data's fingers gently assessed the damage.

"Data, let's get out of the shower? Hmm?" Tasha suggested.

Her voice was smooth, and Data immediately recognised it was the same tone she used to diffuse security situations.

Data didn't move.

"Data, please," Tasha said softly.

Now he felt twice as awful as he had a moment earlier. Data carried her out of the shower and set Tasha down in front of the mirror.

Before she had a chance to inspect the damage, Data's fingers were on her back. He gently ghosted over her wounds to study the depth.

"I have injured you," Data said.

Tasha could hear the panic in his voice.

"I'm fine, Data," she insisted. "I'm sure it looks worse than it really is."

Data's hands were trembling.

He constantly reminded Tasha how fragile she was. He nagged her to take better care of herself. And here he was, the source of her latest injury.

"What have I done?" Data thought aloud.

Tasha caught his hand and held it tight.

"I'm fine," she repeated.


"Not your fault," Tasha assured him.

She was lying face-down on her bed while Data delicately removed another piece of the shattered tile from her back.

"It was never my intention to-" Data began to say.

"I know," Tasha said, cutting him off.

She was doing her best to keep any hint of irritation from her voice.

Tasha knew Data felt horrible. It was torture enough for him already. She knew he didn't need her adding on to it by getting testy.

Data's attempt to take Geordi's advice had worked a little too well.

Things had been going great.

For the first time since the incident at the Command Conference, Data had felt wonderful – right up to the point that the wall in the shower had given way under the pressure.

"Once again, may I say that I would appreciate it if you would let Doctor Crusher check out your injuries," Data said.

"I am notexplaining this to Beverly," Tasha said adamantly.

No amount of creativity was going to sufficiently satiate the Doctor's curiosity in this incident. One look from the Doctor, and Beverly would know precisely what had occurred – and would be insufferable about the matter until she got all the scintillating details.

"I don't want her imagination running wild," Tasha confessed. "I don't think I could live with that."

"We will have to tell Commander Riker," Data said.

"Don't remind me," Tasha whined. "Not tonight. In the morning, OK?"

Requisitions for serious repairs to crew quarters required the First or Second Officer to sign off. They could not sign off on their own repairs.

As embarrassing as it was, they didn't feel right having Data authorise the requisition.

Not only had he been involved, but their personal relationship also presented a moral dilemma. Ethical to a fault, they both agreed they had a moral obligation to have Commander Riker sign off to ensure there was no conflict of interest.

"He's going to know, Data," Tasha said.

Tasha hissed as Data set to work with the dermal regenerator.

"Please," she requested. "Let's wait. I can't face him tonight."

Once completed with the dermal regenerator, Data applied an analgesic cooling gel to help with the pain.

Data didn't think it was possible to feel worse than he had the night before.

But all of that had changed now.

Although he had not voiced his concern, he was starting to have the same thoughts as he had experienced following the Command Conference.

These emotions weren't just making him feel bad – they were dangerous.

He had never intended to injure Tasha, but he had found himself lost in the moment. Data had permitted himself to relax enough to the point that he had been careless.

Just as he had been overcome with anger and keen to break something, his feeling of pleasure had been equally as dangerous.

What if she is afraid of me?Data thought as he was gripped with panic.

Tasha gingerly rolled over to her side so she could look at him properly.

"Stop," Tasha said.

She took hold of his hand and pressed a firm kiss to the back of it.

"This was not your fault," she insisted.

"My actions hurt you," Data said.

Tasha tipped her head to the side, indicating she didn't quite agree with that statement.

"It is unnecessary to feign acceptance for my benefit," Data went on. "Would not feelings of anger, fear, or revulsion be appropriate?"

Data felt like he'd betrayed her trust. She put herself in his hands and in a moment of weakness, he had risked her safety.

Smiling, Tasha shook her head.

"I don't feel that way," Tasha confessed. "Sometimes human emotions are funny like that."

Truly, she wasn't mad. Perhaps, a tiny bit embarrassed.

But there was no anger.

"You broke through a reinforced panel because, if I understand you, being together is enough to distract your trillions of calculations per second," Tasha said.

Data dropped his eyes to the floor in shame.

"It's kind of flattering," Tasha said.

But Data didn't see it that way. For him, the incident was a cruel reminder that he would never - could never - be human.

"I have harmed you," Data said.

His voice was shaky.

"You could never hurt me," Tasha said.

She slipped two fingers under Data's chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"You are the kindest, gentlest person I know. This was an accident, Data. Nothing more," Tasha said. "It could happen to anyone."

Data wanted to believe her. He desperately wanted to believe her.

"I find that highly unlikely," Data said.

Tasha pursed her lips.

"Do you remember when Commander Riker threw his back out for a week after that trip to Risa?" Tasha asked.

The First Officer had taken quite a ribbing for that one. Riker hadn't been shy about confessing the nature of his injury.

"Why do you think I don't want to go to Beverly? Ask her sometime about all the shit she's seen coming into Sickbay," Tasha went on.

Of course, Beverly could never share names. She was a bastion of patient privacy and maintained a strict policy of never discussing stories from her current assignment.

But in all her years in Starfleet medical, Beverly had witnessed some strange and unusual sexual injuries – usually along the lines of sticking things that didn't belong in humanoid bodies in places that could be embarrassing.

Doctor Crusher liked to quip that she'd pulled more sonic toothbrushes from backsides than she had crayons from nostrils.

She hosted a monthly sex talk advising the do's and don'ts of safe sex. Much her to chagrin, Captain Picard refused to make the lecture mandatory.

"Data-"

"Please do not say this is normal," Data requested.

Tasha pulled his hands toward her. She kissed the back of each one.

"Our normal may not be the same as others. But that doesn't make it bad. Or wrong. It's our normal, Data," Tasha said.

She nuzzled against his hands.

"I like our normal. I want our normal," Tasha continued.

She pulled Data onto the bed to sit beside her as she rubbed his back.

"You were enjoying yourself-"

"I should not have allowed such a-"

"Shhhh," Tasha said.

Her breath was warm against his neck.

"You just need to blow off some steam," she said in a low, silky voice.

Her hand travelled under Data's dressing gown and up his thigh until she found her target. He opened his mouth, but Tasha anticipated his protest.

"Relax," she husked.

Tasha stroked his cock, squeezing and loosening her grip in a way that set Data on edge. Her thumb swiped over the sensitive head, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Data.

Tasha grinned against his shoulder.

Data wanted to melt as Tasha started nibbling at his neck.

Tasha increased her speed, coaxing him along to release only to back off. She slowed to an agonising pace, nearly stopping, before picking back up again.

There was no reprieve.

Each time Data drew close, Tasha would drop back down to an easy pace. Sometimes going as far as to use only two fingers along the underside of his cock.

Just as Data started to get comfortable, she would grip him with her hand and stroke the length of him.

Data felt like a puddle of polymer.

"Tasha?" he asked in a trembling voice, so sweet that she took pity on him.

A little.

"What, baby?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Tasha, I am… I am,"

Data's fists clenched the bedsheet. He whimpered.

"What do you want, Data? Tell me?" she murmured.

A tiny, barely perceptible whine escaped from his throat. He was having trouble formulating words.

"Is it too much?" Tasha asked.

She planted a kiss on the left side of his jawline before moving to the opposite side.

"I'm sorry," she said in a tone that indicated she was anything but. "I just love to play with you big, beautiful cock."

Tasha held her hand flat against the underside of his cock. She was giddy with delight to see Data's hips come off the bed as he rubbed himself against her palm.

"Tasha, please," he begged.

He was desperate for more friction.

"Don't be shy. Tell me what you need, Data," Tasha whispered.

"Talk to me," he groaned.

Her kiss was everything. Her touch, divine.

But the smooth tenor of Tasha's voice (especially when she took charge) overwhelmed Data's neural net.

"Close your eyes," Tasha commanded in a soft voice.

Her tongue skimmed against the synthetic musculature on the side of Data's slim neck. She bit down on his earlobe, earning a shudder in response.

"Mmmm, you look so good like this," she purred.

Data was almost frantic as he rutted into her hand.

He groaned as her fist closed around his aching cock.

"Yes," he said.

"You like that, don't you?" Tasha asked.

With her free hand, she stroked his hair – all the while coaxing him along with sweet nothings.

You feel so good.

Your cock is so heavy, baby.

My beautiful, golden boy.

Data was shameless fucking up into her fist now. His attention focused solely on each sweet stroke.

Tasha rested her head on his shoulder while caressing his chest.

"Be a good boy and come for me?" she asked.

When he finally spilled himself in her hand, Tasha nuzzled against his neck.

"Good boy," she cooed.

And he wanted to spill himself again then and there.

It took Data some time to come back to the world after that. Tasha was perfectly content to hold him until he was ready.

Her sweet aftercare was just as delightful as the sex itself and before long, Data felt at ease in a way he hadn't for days.


After they were snuggled together in bed, Data pulled Tasha onto his chest.

"It would be best if you were to sleep like this," Data said. "I will ensure you do not roll onto your back."

Tasha grinned against his chest.

"I may have to sleep like this for some time," she said.

Before Data could apologise again, Tasha cut him off.

"I only say that because I have a few ideas about what I can do with you until then," she said with a cheeky grin.

Tasha tickled his side as she nestled down onto his chest.

"Quite a few actually," she said.

Data's neural net surged. His body tensed in a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Tasha chuckled.

"Awww, don't worry," she assured him. "I'll go easy on you."

She petted his cock through his trousers and Data jumped. He caught Tasha's wrist.

"I am… stimulated enough for tonight," Data confessed.


The next morning, the team were seated around the table on the Observation Lounge for another briefing on the upcoming Jarada mission.

Tasha listened with rapt attention as Deanna outlined the strict protocol.

Across the table, Will Riker was grinning like a cat.

Tasha had seen the requisition approval come through shortly before lunch after Data had agreed to speak with him about the unusual repair requisition.

Wordlessly, Riker got the message and turned his attention back to the briefing.

"We're due at Starbase 121 in seven days," Picard said. "We'll brief again after that."

With their orders in hand, the crew was dismissed to return to their duties.

Riker was headed for his office and Tasha was on her way back to the main Security office.

"How's your back?" Riker asked out of the corner of his mouth on the way out of the briefing room.

"Fine enough to give you another boxing lesson on the holodeck if you want one," Tasha quipped, reminding him of the last time he'd stepped into the ring.

"Shut up, Riker," Riker said aloud. "Noted."

"Thank you for being discreet," Tasha said quietly as they stepped onto the lift together.

She meant it. Tasha knew for all his banter, Riker wouldn't tell a soul.

"Come on, T. I'm a romantic at heart," Riker said. "Besides, I can't let this get out. My reputation would be ruined."