Author's Note: You lot are simply the best! Thank you for all your kind words of support.
A quick note: Some of you that follow me on socials know that I was working on holiday-themed The Complication webtoon story. I've hit 'pause' on that for the time being. It's ballooned into a much bigger project than I currently have time for. So, I am sorry to say I don't think it will be released anytime soon.
I do plan to pick it back up in the future. But for now, my primary focus is on this story.
The next two chapters are formatted in a slightly different manner. Each subsection includes both a time and location. These chapters bounce between different settings, involve considerable action, and have a lot of moving parts.
I hope this format will help establish each new scene and highlight the urgency of the timeline. We're still less than 48 hours from the end of the Lantera mission. No one has had a proper chance to process that.
In essence, they're fresh from the fight, trapped in enemy territory, and facing the possibility of another wave at any time.
I may use this format again in the future — but it will not become the standard formatting going forward.
It is mentioned in Contagion that Varley had to take into account 200,000 years of stellar drift to find Iconia. It is also mentioned in Picard, that the Eightfold star system built by the unknown race was constructed approximately 200,00 years earlier.
But wait, Charlie! I thought you said the Iconians disappeared 10,000 years ago?!
Correct.
In my timeline, the Iconian Empire was officially founded around 200,000 years ago. Like any great Empire, it went through periods of growth and eventual decline before it ended approximately 10,000 years ago.
I was so hoping they would make a connection between them — alas, that did not happen. Once again, you do not need to have seen Picard to understand this arc. I'm inserting my own twist over all of this.
Also, I know Roddenberry had a thing about zippers and fasteners. But I like zippers. They're easy. They make sense. And I don't want to bother with trying to describe some sort of complex self-sealing fabric or alternative stretch and shimmy into a jumpsuit.
We're just gonna roll with zippers/fasteners in this story.
C/W: Pregnancy, grief, whumping/injuring (major character), death (not major character)
04:21 hours | USS Yamato
It had been hours since Donald Varley had last sat down.
He still hadn't changed out of his uniform — not that it mattered anymore. The coffee had long since dried and Varley knew it wouldn't make a difference.
If he was going to die on this ship, stranded in the Neutral Zone, there would be no one dispatched to recover his body.
There would be no funeral service.
History wouldn't care that he died with a coffee stain on the front of his shirt.
Presently, Varley and his Chief Operations officer were having an urgent meeting as they walked through the corridor.
"Are you sure about this?" Varley asked.
"It is completely isolated from the ship's main computer," his Operations Chief advised.
The corridor was eerily silent.
Above, the lights flickered. The power fluctuations that had plagued the Yamato for the last day were still a problem. There had been no word from the Enterprise — and no way to know for sure if their message was even received.
Varley stopped. He gripped the shoulder of his Operations Chief.
The two men glanced overhead, waiting to see if the lights would stop.
"Are you sure about this?" Varley repeated.
He needed to know before he gave the order. And at this point, the Operations Chief was the last person Varley could trust on his ship.
His First Officer had been conspicuously absent most of the crisis. After wasting manpower on an exhaustive search, his body had been discovered in a secondary shuttlebay.
The working theory was that the First Officer had attempted to flee the ship when one of the power fluctuations left him trapped after the environmental systems failed.
Varley couldn't waste time wondering how or why a man he'd served with for years would suddenly make such a choice. He could have been a spy or simply frightened. He might have been cut off and trying to go for help.
The reason didn't matter.
First Officer Pennington was dead, and they would all join him soon enough.
"Are you sure Picard will-"
"He'll be here," Varley insisted.
The Operations Chief nodded in acknowledgement.
"Then, yes. I'm sure," he answered.
Donald Varley straightened his coffee-stained uniform. He cleared his throat and mentally prepared himself to give an order he had never expected.
Varley stepped through the arch.
He was greeted by a line of long faces.
"I know that what I'm asking of you is more than any of you signed on for," Varley acknowledged. "But you are our last, best hope to ensure something survives of the Yamato."
05:09 hours | USS Yamato
"Status update?" Varley prompted.
There was an audible pause. Everyone on the Bridge held their breath as they waited for a report from the team on deck 12.
Ship-wide communications were still down. Varley and his crew had rigged a clever workaround using short-range communicator toys from the school.
They had distributed the limited supply at strategic locations throughout the ship to use as a sort of 'telephone' line in passing messages.
Donald Varley sat back in the command chair and gently rapped his fingers on the arm rest.
Finally, the communicator clicked.
"The last group is aboard. We're sealing now."
The team was just waiting for Varley's order.
"Once you give the order, sir, I'll depressurise with the manual override," the Operations Chief advised.
Varley hesitated.
He briefly wondered if Ernest Shackelton felt much the same mix of trepidation and desperate fatalism as he prepared to launch his open-boat hail Mary after the loss of the Endurance.
And he wondered if history would remember the Yamato and her crew.
If anyone would know what they sacrificed to save billions from the Romulans.
Or if the Yamato would join the long list of ships and names like Franklin and the Erebus, Cabot and the Matthew, or Garrett and the Enterprise-C.
"Sir, your orders?"
Varley clutched the armrest of the command chair.
"Do it," Varley said.
"That was the most important thing on the ship," the Tactical officer said, watching the viewscreen.
Varley couldn't argue with that assessment.
"I hope you are right," the Tactical officer said.
"So do I," Varley replied.
05:37 hours | USS Enterprise
Data hummed softly to himself as he snipped the stems to the appropriate height. He slipped his mix of honeysuckle and lilac into the vase on the table.
Next, he placed a beautiful daffodil in the centre.
Perfect. Data mused.
He adjusted and readjusted the tableware — straightening each piece twice, refolding the napkins, and shifting the place settings so that they would both have a good view of the nebula outside the window.
The kettle was ready and waiting for Guinan's tea.
The porridge was hot and creamy. Data had topped it with a scoop of jam and a handful of fresh berries.
He adjusted the lighting in the room so that it was low level — enough to see and get around without being a shock so early in the morning.
Data wasn't sure what time Tasha would be up. It had been a late evening, and she was long overdue for a good sleep.
Nevertheless, he wanted everything to be ready.
Because this morning, Data had an important announcement.
"Wha-a-a-a-t are you doing?" Tasha asked as she yawned.
Data froze.
He smoothed the front of his uniform and pulled himself up to his full height before turning around.
Tasha flashed him a hazy grin.
"You need not get up yet," Data said.
Tasha threw her hands up overhead and stretched, ruffling her hair, and scratching her neck before she collapsed back onto the sofa.
"Good morning," she said in a froggy voice.
Tasha was typically an early riser. But this morning, she felt as if she had been trampled by a stampede of Klingon Targs.
And she couldn't stop yawning.
"You made breakfast," Tasha observed.
"I thought we could enjoy it together. I… I have something important that I would like to discuss," Data said.
"Hmmm?" Tasha asked.
She disappeared for a moment as she pulled on an oversized jumper. Tasha shivered. She liked to keep her quarters cold and there was something refreshing about that special time between 05:00 and 06:00 where they felt positively crisp.
It made the first sip of a hot tea or Raktajino all the better.
Tasha padded across the carpet while Data poured the tea. She slipped her hand around his arm and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you," Tasha said.
"I have not yet told you what I wish to discuss," Data pointed out.
Tasha grinned.
"I meant for breakfast," she clarified.
Data dropped his gaze to the table. He felt bashful.
"I could prepare something else if you would rather-"
"It's perfect," Tasha replied.
Tasha snaked her arms around Data's torso. She buried her head between his shoulder blades.
"You make everything perfect," she remarked.
Data nearly burst with excitement. He just knew that Tasha was going to be overwhelmed with joy and relief at the news of his decision.
"What do you want to talk about?" Tasha prompted.
Data covered Tasha's hand that was around his waist with his own.
"Would you not prefer to eat first?" Data suggested.
"Oh, don't make me wait!" Tasha pleaded.
Data turned in her arms. He took hold of Tasha's hands. For a moment, he said nothing. Data was simply content to be together.
"Tasha, I want you to know that-"
"Senior officers report to the Bridge. Urgent."
Data closed his eyes. He visibly grimaced.
"Data?" Tasha prompted.
"We need to report to the Bridge."
His eyes were still firmly shut. Such emergencies were a routine part of being a senior officer on a ship like the Enterprise.
"Tell me what's wrong?" Tasha pressed.
Data took a breath. He opened his eyes and smiled. Then he squeezed Tasha's hands.
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong," he said.
He wasn't going to let anything ruin this moment for him.
"What do you want to tell me?" Tasha asked.
"We need to get to the Bridge," Data said as he pulled Tasha toward the bedroom.
They didn't bother with low lighting or easing into the day.
"Computer, lights," Tasha ordered.
The bright change was unwelcome, but neither party stopped to adjust as they dashed to change into their uniforms and throw on their boots.
"Data, did something happen while I was asleep?" Tasha asked as she slipped on her jumpsuit.
She stopped to zip up Data's uniform.
"No," Data answered simply.
Data spun Tasha around so he could zip up the back of her uniform in kind. He paused and let his hands come to rest on her shoulders.
"Data, is this about Lieutenant Castillo?"
They had not spoken of his death nor Tasha's reaction. It was all still so raw. In the wake of their latest crisis, there was no time.
"No," Data replied.
His answer was just as brief as before.
"Data, please just-"
Data kissed her cheek, momentarily silencing Tasha.
She turned and flashed him a pleading look.
Data caught her hand and pulled it toward his lips.
His smile was warm and reassuring. Without words, Tasha understood she had no reason to feel anxious. Whatever Data wanted to discuss was a good thing.
"We will speak tonight. On our date," Data said.
Tasha grinned.
"Our date," she echoed.
The night before, Data and Tasha had agreed they were long overdue for a proper date night.
Assuming they were still alive and not captured by Romulans or taken prisoner by Starfleet, they were going out that night.
"We have to go," Data said.
Only he didn't want to move.
Tasha blinked, looking Data up and down before she stepped in close.
"Tonight," she said.
"Tonight," Data agreed.
He wrapped his arms around Tasha and held her close for a moment, silently conveying just how much he cared.
They were clinging to the hope of 'tonight.' It wasn't about the evening itself, but rather the hope that they would make it out of this crisis alive.
The hope they would live to see tomorrow.
And Føroyar.
The cat.
The next fifty years.
"Don't be late, Mr Data," Tasha whispered.
Before he could open his mouth to promise he would be on time, Data felt Tasha's breath against his ear.
"Because I will be thinking about you until then," Tasha growled.
She bit down on his ear and Data's system surged.
Suddenly, she was too close. Data felt warm. He had a hard time focusing as the lines between need and duty blurred.
Tasha smirked. She knew precisely which buttons to press.
Data took a step back and cleared his throat.
"Well, I suppose we ought to report in," he said stiffly.
Tasha quirked an eyebrow in his direction.
"After you," Tasha said, gesturing to the door. "Unless you'd rather I walk ahead?"
She sauntered toward the door and stopped in the frame. Tasha glanced back over her shoulder.
"Commander?" she asked innocently.
Tasha certainly wasn't going to make things easy for him.
She shrieked as Data chased her toward the door.
By the time Data and Tasha stepped off the lift and onto the Bridge, all traces of their playful were gone.
The nodded to one another, addressing each other by rank in the same consummate professionalism that was a hallmark of their relationship in public.
"Commander," Tasha said, stepping aside so Data could first in accordance with their rank.
"After you, Lieutenant," Data said.
Data moved to his position at the Operations console as Tasha took up her own station at Tactical.
Before they parted, a brief look of understanding passed between them.
Tonight.
06:15 hours | USS Enterprise
The team had assembled in the Observation Lounge.
It was silent around the briefing table. They were waiting for Captain Picard to join them as soon as he wrapped up his conference call with Captain Rixx.
A collective sense of 'what's next' hovered over the team.
Captain Picard swept into the room a moment later. Beverly knew in an instant that he had not slept well.
Picard took up his seat at the front of the table.
"Shall we begin?" Picard asked.
His mood was formal. Terse.
This was not good news.
Over on the Thomas Paine, a similar meeting was taking place. Captain Rixx and Captain Picard preferred to meet with their officers to discuss concerns, ideas, and theories over the briefing table.
For the sake of ease and honesty, they had agreed to brief their respective teams separately. Too many people in one meeting could make it difficult to control the speaking order. In addition, officers tended to be more guarded during joint meetings.
Both Captains agreed their officers would be more likely to provide honest feedback without the pressure of having to impress another ship.
"Approximately ninety minutes ago, the Thomas Paine intercepted a probe," Picard said. "It contained this message."
Picard activated the computer system.
Deanna gasped audibly as she listened to Captain Varley. His demeanour was calm, but it belied just how terrified Varley truly felt.
The probe wasn't just a message — it was an SOS.
And a map.
"I have to believe this information came from the evidence recovered during one of my previous secret missions. It's Iconia, Jean-Luc. I'm certain of it," Varley said.
Varley went on to share that the Yamato had encountered a mysterious orbital probe.
"It scanned us on arrival. We managed to lock on our tractor beam and bring it aboard," Varley shared.
Shortly thereafter, the problems began.
"I don't know if it's caused by this probe, or some sort of orbital defence system, or what. I'm not going to rule out a saboteur either," Varley explained.
Picard felt awful. The Yamato was now stranded, alone, and facing a frightening series of catastrophic system errors.
"I've already lost an engineering team when the computer shut down a forcefield in an open shuttlebay. Eighteen good people, Jean-Luc," Varley continued. "My first officer is dead. With all these power fluctuations and environmental malfunctions, I know there are more casualties out there that we just haven't found yet."
Entire regions of the Yamato were still inaccessible. They had no sensors to check and no ship-wide communications to relay information to those areas.
"Before we lost sensors, we picked up a Romulan on an inbound course."
Varley paused.
"I don't know if we'll still be here by the time you get this message. But if we aren't, it's up to you to stop them," Varley said.
The collective feeling of uncertainty and fear radiated off everyone in the room. There was anger too. They had just come off one of the most trying missions any officer could experience. They had spent months living under the pressure of this conspiracy.
It was enough to make Deanna physically ill.
When does it end? Data thought.
"I've had my Chief Operations Officer remove our primary archive," Varley said.
It was a piece of the main computer core. Each Starfleet vessel was equipped with such a device. The primary archive housed a snapshot of the ship.
It contained a copy of all the logs, critical files, and systems data from the main computer in a compressed version.
The primary archive was heavily protected in the hope that it might survive destruction or efforts by unscrupulous parties to obtain Starfleet information from the wreckage of abandoned or destroyed ships.
"I'm sending you this in the hope that you can learn where we went wrong," Varley said.
The primary archive might hold valuable clues to prevent a similar outcome on the Enterprise.
"Your team may be able to identify how these errors occurred or take additional safety measures if you encounter another probe. And if this was caused by a saboteur, maybe you can stop it before it tears apart the Enterprise," Varley said.
Varley had been rendered powerless by the malfunctions. It was a frustrating position for a Captain. But in sending this message, he could at least do something.
"I hope this isn't goodbye, Jean-Luc. But if it is, it's important that you carry on our work. I don't want my crew to have died for nothing," Varley acknowledged.
The feeling is mutual. Picard thought.
"Oh, and Jean-Luc. About the Corsica. It is very important that you—"
The message cut off.
Worf was the first to find his voice.
"That is it?" he asked.
Captain Picard nodded solemnly.
"This audio file was recorded using an old personal recording device," Picard explained.
They had once been a common device for Starfleet officers and were used to record personal messages for family or friends back home. Some Captains used them to track personal logs for projects that were more hobby than duty.
The practice had fallen out of fashion decades earlier.
Jean-Luc held up the handheld device.
"Captain Varley recorded that message and put it in a probe," he said, shaking the object.
"But how could they launch a probe if the computers are down?" Deanna asked.
"Torpedo tubes," Tasha answered.
She sat forward, resting her arms on the table as she walked Deanna through the process.
"They could load a probe into one of the main torpedo tubes and then launch it using the manual release," Tasha explained.
It was not intended to actually launch weapons. The manual release was an emergency feature in the event unwanted objects became trapped inside. Crews also made use of them during maintenance and cleaning.
"The team on the Yamato likely used an isolated program to manually set the coordinates for the probe," Geordi theorised.
Riker frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Translating engineering for the rest of the team usually fell to Chief O'Brien.
"They could have used a control mechanism from something like an anti-grav unit or even a toy on board," Miles explained. "All they would need is a basic control program for simple functions. It's easy enough to interface with the probe command console."
"Which means we can assume they won't be able to receive any messages from us," Beverly said.
Deanna's shoulders slumped.
"They must be terrified," she commented.
Things were quickly devolving on the Enterprise — but at least they still had lights, temperature controls, and functioning replicators.
"Captain Varley mentions secret missions. And he seems to think you are aware of them," Riker said.
Captain Picard sighed.
He didn't like keeping anything from his senior officers. They were his crew. Once more, he'd been forced to operate in a way that left most of them out of the loop.
"For several months, Captain Varley has undertaken a number of unsanctioned missions to recover Iconian artefacts," Picard announced.
"Unsanctioned?" Tasha asked.
The specific use of that word caught her attention.
"Sir, that term isn't just a description. It's a legal classification. Were these missions truly unsanctioned? Or were they covert? Black flag directive?" Tasha pressed.
"I don't know," Picard said.
He didn't have that much information.
"Captain Varley had a source in Admiral Henry's office," Picard said.
"Who?" Riker inquired.
"I don't know," Picard repeated.
He could pick up on the team's concern at this lack of information.
"Sir, is Admiral Henry aware of these missions?"
This time, the question was from Data.
"I don't know that either," Picard admitted.
The room fell silent.
Geordi scratched the back of his neck. Beverly rapped her fingers atop the surface of the desk. Worf glowered in the corner.
It was a full minute before anyone spoke.
"Then we are trapped in the Neutral Zone. There is a Romulan ship inbound to Varley's position. Our sister ship is adrift," Riker said.
"Combat ineffective," Tasha added.
"If it is still there," Worf grumbled.
He wasn't trying to be smart. It was a real possibility.
"And we have either discovered the Iconian homeworld and a possible cache of information and advanced weaponry even greater than Lantera or this could all be a trap courtesy of the Romulans that infiltrated Starfleet," Picard concluded.
Data cocked his head to the side. His brow furrowed.
"The two are not mutually exclusive, sir," Data said. "This could be the Iconian homeworld and a trap to lure the Enterprise and the Thomas Paine out of hiding."
"The timing sure is suspicious," Miles said.
The Romulans had no doubt communicated the destruction of Lantera and Ekloire as well as been alerted as to the presence of the three Starfleet vessels.
"How do we really know it's just one ship? What if it's an entire armada? We're in no condition to fight, sir," Geordi argued.
They Engineering team had made considerable progress. Though there were still a number of key systems awaiting repair.
"Our hull plating isn't in the best of shape either," Miles added.
"The Enterprise expended considerable resources during our last encounter," Data said.
As the Operations Chief, both the Engineering and Tactical teams reported directly to Data. He was keenly aware of just how dire their situation was.
"We have less than thirty percent of our photo torpedo capacity. Phaser banks two and five took significant damage," Data explained.
One of the hits from the Romulan cruiser had damaged the phaser charging port on bank two.
"It will be at least eighteen hours before we can bring it online for a preliminary test. If it's stable, I'd say we could handle half-charge in that bank. But it won't be able to fire at full capacity again until we put into a starbase," Geordi said.
He needed a proper repair port, isolation chambers, and parts that simply couldn't be replicated on the ship.
"What about the end of the message? Do you know anything about that? The Corsica?" Beverly asked.
Jean-Luc didn't have to answer verbally. Beverly could tell from the thin line of his mouth that Picard had no information.
"I don't know what he was going to say," Picard replied.
"The Corsica is a dart-class support vessel assigned to the Yamato," Data informed the team.
The Captain's Yacht.
They were a fixture on all Galaxy-class ships. Larger and faster than a shuttlecraft, these ships could be used for extended missions, diplomatic functions, or even in emergencies.
"Maybe Captain Varley dispatched a rescue team?" Beverly suggested.
Picard shook his head.
"That ship would have reached us far sooner than this probe."
"Then perhaps they evacuated? Escape pods. Shuttles. The Corsica," Deanna said.
Data's brow wrinkled. He knew Deanna wanted to hold out hope that there was a chance the Yamato crew were safe.
When he spoke, he chose his words carefully.
"The Corsica is not designed to evacuate a large number of personnel. It could support between thirty and forty-five people for seven to fifteen days depending on the composition of the crew. It is impossible to predict without knowing what humanoid species and-"
"Thank you, Mr Data," Picard said, cutting him off.
His thoughts briefly drifted to the eighteen officers Varley had confirmed lost after a shuttlebay was exposed to space.
Jean-Luc didn't want to think about desperate people fleeing right into their deaths. Nor did he want to consider Varley having to pick and choose from among his crew and civilian personnel who escaped and who didn't.
"It could have been commandeered," Tasha said.
Riker shuddered.
"You mean a mutiny," Riker said.
Tasha nodded.
She had included a detailed note about just such a threat in her own planning report. The Captain's Yacht wasn't housed inside a shuttlebay. It was independently connected via deck 12.
With proper planning, it wouldn't take much for someone to get aboard, seal it off, and launch before the Bridge could stop them.
"How long before we're ready to go?" Picard asked the table.
No one wanted to be the first to answer.
"Mr La Forge, what is the status of our engines?" Picard urged.
"We could have primary warp back on board in three hours," Geordi said before adding a caveat, "But I would strongly advise against anything above warp 5 until we can get a proper team in to complete the coolant repairs."
A dark look passed between Geordi and Chief O'Brien.
"We have a temporary patch. But she won't hold if we hit high speeds," O'Brien warned.
Jean-Luc shifted in his chair. He rubbed his chin as he mulled over the situation. Without full warp capabilities, they would not have the speed to outrun any number of possibilities (including a Romulan ship).
"What about our Tactical position?" Picard asked, turning to Tasha.
She rocked her head back and forth.
"We're not entirely without means. But we're in no condition for a sustained fight. If there truly is only one Romulan ship en route, we could hold our own for an hour, maybe two. But we don't have the armament to hold out through another fight like the last one," Tasha advised.
"Sir, this is all assuming we can hold our own ship," Riker chimed in.
Jean-Luc turned to his First Officer.
"What are you saying?" Picard asked.
Riker couldn't hold back any longer.
"You're asking us to lead our ship into another dangerous situation. Red alert. Possible combat," Riker said, shaking his head. "You've got a ship full of frightened people that have been asked to trust us in spite of being given no information, no reason for these emergencies, no explanation for why they've been cut off from the outside world and their loved ones."
Riker pointed at the door.
"It's a tinderbox out there, sir. And we're one crisis away from it all going up," Riker said.
"Commander Riker is right. This could be the breaking point," Deanna cautioned.
Jean-Luc was torn. He desperately wanted to find a middle ground between the recommendations from Tasha and Riker that did not violate basic Federation rights while still upholding the valuable security parameters necessary for the safety of everyone on board.
"I don't want to declare martial law on my own ship," Picard confessed with a heavy sigh.
"Sir, if we don't lock down the corridors and critical access points, I won't have enough officers to suppress a mutiny without heavy casualties," Tasha said.
She had already made a list inside her head of those officers she trusted and of those she suspected would throw in with the mutineers.
It was cold and callous, and Tasha hated herself for having to think that way — but she knew it was necessary. She couldn't be caught off guard.
"A mutiny would be exactly the sort of cover a spy or spies could use to slip off this ship," Tasha said.
"And what of the investigation?" Picard asked.
All eyes fell to Worf. With Tasha occupied by the mutiny threat, Worf was leading the investigation into Romulan infiltration.
"Commander Data and I have managed to rule out an additional twelve suspects," Worf said.
It was a step – but there were still dozens of remaining possible suspects.
"Lieutenant La Forge has said it will be three hours for the engines. That's your deadline, gentlemen. I want a name or names before then," Picard ordered.
Data wasn't one to question the Captain. But he recognised this was a tall order.
"Captain, would it be possible to allocate additional support to our task?"
Even Data was doubtful of their ability to solve the mystery before the looming deadline.
"Lieutenant Yar and Counsellor Troi will assist you," Picard ordered.
Deanna, Commander Riker, and Tasha baulked at this.
"Sir, I have many appointments scheduled today that are vital for the mental health of our crew," Deanna said.
In order to accommodate the heavy caseload, Deanna had cut her appointment times down from an hour to just thirty minutes. She was already relying on the assistance of several other trained professionals aboard.
It was psychological triage.
"This takes priority," Picard said.
"Sir, the security measures for this situation are critical. I need Lieutenant Yar to help me manage this. We are dangerously close to a mutiny," Riker protested.
"I agree with Commander Riker, Captain," Tasha added.
Jean-Luc did not agree.
"I don't want to downplay your expertise. I value your insight. Both of you," he assured them. "But I have to believe that our crew, our team is better than that. I trust that our people will be guided by conscience and logic."
Tasha visibly grimaced.
"Sir, with all due respect — you don't know what people are capable of when they're hungry and scared. It will start with a fight over something stupid. And before you know it, this whole ship will erupt," Tasha said in a dark voice.
She paused, wordlessly pleading Captain Picard to see reason.
"Men with blood on their hands don't care about logic or rank or duty," Tasha said.
"When I was on the Pegasus—" Riker began to say.
"The Pegasus crew had served together less than a month when that ship mutinied," Picard said.
Riker blinked in disbelief at the Captain's dismissal of his concern.
"But, sir—"
Riker couldn't get a word in.
"And you were a helmsman less than seven months out of the Academy. I'm sorry, Number One. But I don't think we can draw conclusions from that incident for our present situation," Picard said.
He firmly believed the Enterprise was different.
Before Tasha could register a protest, Picard whipped around in his seat and turned on her.
"And with all due respect, Lieutenant," Picard said, echoing Tasha's own words. "Your homeworld is hardly an apt comparison to a Starfleet vessel."
Tasha was aghast.
"I know the crew is strained. But I refuse to believe this ship will break down into the chaotic sort of violence one hears about on these backwater colonies," Picard said.
"Captain, when people are scared enough, there is no telling what they might do," Tasha said, keeping her voice even.
Jean-Luc pursed his lips.
"This is a ship with families. The finest officers in Starfleet. Renowned civilian scientists. Diplomats. Enlightened people don't transform into monsters just because your people are capable of the sort of barbaric violence that civilised people would never even think of!"
The words stung the moment they left Captain Picard's mouth.
"Yes, sir," Tasha responded with a stiff nod.
Data didn't need Deanna's empathic abilities to know how deeply the Captain's remarks had cut.
"Three hours," Picard said.
He knocked the table twice.
"And outwardly, your mood in front of the crew is to be upbeat. Jovial," Picard instructed.
06:53 hours | USS Enterprise | Main Engineering
"I'm sorry to bring you all in early," Geordi said.
The Engineering team had put in more hours than any other team aboard in recent weeks. The last few days had been no exception.
"Alvarez, Pimento, Wagner, and Wen, report to the deuterium storage. Check in with Lieutenant Baker."
Geordi read the next list of names off his tablet.
"You'll be working under Lieutenant Bhani. He's already got a team started on the warp plasma conduits in the secondary maintenance hub," Geordi advised.
With each subsequent assignment, the crowd dwindled.
It didn't feel right.
Normally, this sort of meeting would be characterised as a mix of light banter and teasing. It was typical for officers to offer swaps — exchanging carbon scrubbing for a better job if it came with a sweetener like a bottle of contraband ale or first dibs on a new holodeck program.
But today, everyone was silent.
The usual cheeriness that accompanied their work was absent. No one was cracking jokes or suggesting music to work to.
"Bosan, Mareen, O'tevenci, I want you to relieve the team that's been monitoring the work on the phaser bank," Geordi said.
He glanced up from the list names to scan the faces of his colleagues.
"Now, I don't want to sugar coat our situation. I know it's been a hard couple of days," Geordi acknowledged. "I don't want you to think the work you're doing goes by without recognition. Every single person on this ship is grateful for the hours you've put in."
Geordi could tell this message fell woefully short of the inspiration they needed.
"And I'm sure we'll all be home in no time," Geordi lied.
Geordi flashed them a brilliant smile.
Inside, he felt sick to his stomach.
He hated lying to the team.
Data caught Tasha's arm on the way out of the briefing.
"I'm fine," she said quickly.
Too quickly.
"We should start with any of the officers on the list of suspects that worked overnight. We can set up the Security briefing room for questioning," Tasha said. "We'll say it's some sort of routine inquiry. A computer code malfunction — we're just ruling out human error."
The lift doors swung open.
Tasha, Data, and Worf stepped on.
"I concur," Worf said.
It was consistent with the story he had used the night before to question several suspects.
"Tasha—" Data began to say.
"And let's look at the duty roster again and cross reference the schedules of our suspects. If there is more than one Romulan infiltrator, we might be able to spot a pattern if they're working together," Tasha said.
"Tasha," Data tried again.
She completely ignored him.
"I heard there was a disturbance in Ten Forward last night. We should talk with Riker. See if anybody instigated it or was making a lot of noise. It's possible our suspect is trying to stir division," Tasha said.
"Lieutenant."
Tasha whipped around. It wasn't like Data to use such a commanding voice.
"Commander?"
"Tasha, about what Captain Picard said—"
Tasha seethed.
"What about it, sir?" Tasha hissed. "Because as far as I am concerned, the briefing is over."
She paused before adding a cheeky 'sir.'
Data was caught off guard by her brisk tone. He had only used his 'Bridge voice' to get her attention. Data decided to try a different approach.
When he spoke, his voice was soft.
"Tasha, I believe that the Captain's words were uncalled for," Data said.
When he tried to put a hand on her shoulder, Tasha brushed him off.
"Don't," she warned.
Data was at a loss. He truly did feel Captain Picard's comments were unacceptable — and not just because of his relationship to Tasha.
"Tasha, please. I will bring you a Raktajino from the canteen and then speak with the Captain," Data offered.
Tasha scoffed.
"We are on duty, Commander. And I don't need you or anyone else to treat me like a hurt child just because—"
She stopped and scowled before she quickly recovered. Tasha squared her shoulders to regain her composure.
"Captain Picard has always been frank. I don't take it personally. As I said, the briefing is over," Tasha concluded.
The lift ground to a halt and the doors slid open.
"Is there anything else, sir?" Tasha asked.
"No, Lieutenant," Data said.
Without a word, Tasha stalked off to her office.
"Do not blame her," Worf warned in a low voice.
Data blinked in confusion. He frowned.
"I would never," Data assured him.
He knew Tasha was only reacting that way because she was under immense pressure.
"The strain of—"
"Say no more," Worf said.
To Data's surprise, Worf put a hand on his shoulder.
"It is perfectly natural," Worf said as if such an unusual outburst was to be expected.
His voice was full of empathy as he patted Data on the back.
"Hormones."
Data cocked his head to the side and blinked.
Hormones?
07:45 hours | USS Enterprise | Captain's Ready Room
Captain Picard was on his third cup of Earl Grey.
Under normal circumstances, Captain Picard met with Commander Riker and Data at 10:30 hours. It was a daily meeting between the Captain and his First and Second officers.
It was necessary for the three of them to meet alone outside of the senior staff briefing.
Today, that meeting was nearly three hours ahead of schedule — and Jean-Luc expected to meet again before noon.
"Captain Varley mentioned the location of this planet — if it is Iconia — came from evidence discovered during one of his previous missions," Picard said.
Months earlier, Captain Varley had entrusted a copy of that information to Picard. Data had been the only person Jean-Luc had previously disclosed that to.
For months, Data had quietly poured over the find for any relevant information.
"Data, is it possible the location of Iconia was in there?" Picard asked.
"The information recovered did include a number of obscure star charts. But they did not correspond with any known system," Data said.
Riker's dark brow furrowed.
"This may be a stupid question, but weren't the Iconians active something like tens of millennia ago?" Riker asked.
"We believe the Iconian Empire was founded two-hundred thousand years ago and disappeared somewhere around ten thousand years ago," Picard said.
Riker nodded slowly.
"Well, don't the stars change?" Riker asked.
"You are referring to the phenomenon of stellar drift," Data said.
"I won't pretend to understand it the same way you do," Riker acknowledged. "But aren't these systems all moving? And isn't it likely that they look different now than they did when the Iconians were around?"
Riker paused and waited for Data to explain exactly why his train of thought wasn't the answer.
"You are correct," Data said.
Riker's face broke out into a broad grin. He had never expected that.
"But—"
Will's face fell.
"These star charts have no dating. We do not know when they were created. And without a point of origin, we have no frame of reference to even begin a search," Data said.
Data had already considered this.
"I have written a subprogramme to try and determine the location," Data added.
Captain Picard perked up.
"And?" he prompted.
"And it has been running for one hundred and eighteen days. Theoretically, it could take years — decades even — to identify a single star system in the charts," Data explained.
Data lifted his eyebrows in a manner that suggested he had one more snippet of relevant information. He had a knack for coming up with creative workarounds or miracle answers just when everything seemed to be going against them.
It was one of the things Captain Picard most appreciated about Data's unique intelligence.
"It is notable that all the star charts have one thing in common," Data said.
Captain Picard shifted forward in his seat in anticipation.
"They all reference an octonary or eightfold star system," Data said.
"Eightfold," Picard gasped softly.
The pendant.
"Such a star system is not naturally occurring. At least, we are not aware of any system in the known universe," Data explained.
He tilted his head to the side and made a face.
"Though we have only explored a tiny percentage of the universe. It is completely logical to conclude that there are–"
"An eightfold star system," Picard said in awe.
"Yes, sir," Data replied.
He assumed they had covered that already.
Jean-Luc's mind spun with possibilities. He wanted to whip out the pendant and reassign Data to review it.
But he had already transferred the device back to Captain Rixx.
Picard did have the scans he'd taken. There were images and a three-dimensional holographic representation.
Yet, Jean-Luc felt compelled to clear the sharing of any information about the pendant with Rixx first.
After all, it was Rixx's discovery.
"There are several references to an octonary system in several ancient Vulcan texts dating from before the era known as the Time of Awakening," Data continued.
Jean-Luc's curiosity bone resonated so hard he was ready to shake apart.
"How so?" Picard pressed.
Data's expression soured.
"Sir, I do feel it is necessary to point out that this system does not appear on any historical Vulcan star charts and is considered apocryphal," Data said.
A beat passed.
Data could sense the Captain was intrigued. Data was also keenly aware of Captain Picard's interest in Iconian and his archaeological hobby. But when Data fell silent, Picard offered no additional information.
"It is possible Captain Varley's source was able to find the location of Iconia in the information he recovered — but not without some additional key or codex that we are not privy to," Data concluded.
Like a pendant? Picard thought.
This only reinforced Picard's fear that Varley had been set up. There likely was on Iconia.
And yet…
Captain Varley had said he believed he'd found Iconia in his message. It wasn't like Varley to embellish.
His fear about the inbound Romulan ship seemed genuine.
Donald Varley wouldn't risk taking his ship into enemy territory for nothing. Nor would he endanger the Enterprise and the Thomas Paine on a whim.
"Sir, perhaps it would be better to send a probe?" Riker suggested.
That would confirm if the Yamato was still present or not. It was harsh, but there was no use chasing after a destroyed ship.
Jean-Luc shook his head.
"By the time a probe would return data, it would be too late for us to reach them before the Romulans. In any case, we need to be sure the Romulans don't find what's there," Picard said.
Whether it was Iconian technology or simply the derelict Yamato, Jean-Luc wanted to keep both out of Romulan hands.
Castillo's account of Romulan imprisonment was still fresh on Picard's mind. The thought of condemning more than a thousand lives to the same fate haunted him.
"Where are we on the investigation?" Picard asked, moving right into the next order of business.
"Lieutenant Worf and Lieutenant Yar are conducting interviews. I am monitoring the investigation and I remain in contact with Engineering on the status of the repairs," Data advised.
"I'll be meeting with Guinan in an hour to discuss some sort of party for the crew. We're thinking of using the holodecks to set up a few different options," Riker said.
It was an organised way for the crew to blow off some steam.
"We're thinking a family friendly carnival on holodeck one, a Risian beach volleyball tournament on holodeck two," Riker rattled off.
He glanced down at his tablet to check his notes.
"And a quiet room on holodeck three. You know? Massages, sensory chambers, aromatherapy, puppies," Riker said.
"Puppies?" Picard asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
"Many species find pleasure and relaxation in interacting with animal companions. They elicit feelings of joy. Studies have shown it can reduce anxiety and blood pressure," Data chimed in.
"Right," Picard said.
He had nothing against small animals — but Jean-Luc very much doubted even a herd of puppies would be enough to smooth over nerves on the ship.
Picard couldn't fault Riker. Guinan's plan for these distractions was exactly what they needed.
Captain Picard glanced down at the empty teacup in his hand.
"Well then, thank you for the update. I'm sure you both have duties to attend to and I am due for another check-in with Captain Rixx," Picard said.
"Sir, just one more thing," Riker said.
Picard tensed.
"About Rachel Cohn," Riker began.
Jean-Luc put up his hand.
"I sympathise with her. I truly do, Number One. But we cannot allow her to transmit a message. It could give away our position," Picard said.
"But if you were to sit down and talk with her. I think if it came from you, sir—"
"Fine, fine," Picard said.
Jean-Luc really didn't want to meet with Lieutenant Cohn. He had never been great at talking with the family of officers killed in the line of duty.
Only Jean-Luc knew that wasn't quite true.
In fact, Picard was too good.
Too composed.
Too detached.
It was never easy to deliver that sort of news. Warmth did not come easily to a man like Jean-Luc Picard. He had spent the better part of the last five decades denying his own emotional needs and grief.
Picard had no doubt his callous nature would do little to soothe Rachel Cohn.
But he needed to jump onto a call with Captain Rixx.
And then meant Data and Riker needed to leave.
Riker got the hint — Data did not.
"Sir, I also have a matter I would like to discuss," Data said.
"Data, I am very busy," Picard said.
"Then I will make this brief."
Riker had been about to go, leaving the two men alone. But now, he was intrigued.
"Should I uh—"
"I have no issue with you remaining, Commander," Data said.
Jean-Luc was struck by Data's determined tone.
Data hesitated. He knew what he had to say — but he didn't feel entirely comfortable saying it. Picard had seen the same look on dozens of officers over the years.
He had never expected to see it on Data's face.
"Out with it, Data," Picard said.
The Captain's tone wasn't rude. Jean-Luc was merely urgent to get on to his meeting with Rixx.
"We are facing prolonged uncertainty and the likelihood of another intense mission that comes on the heels of an emotionally taxing mission," Data prefaced.
That's an understatement. Riker thought.
"I am not an expert on human behaviour."
Data didn't need to elaborate on his own perceived shortcomings in that respect. In the context of their conversation, Jean-Luc knew what Data was alluding to.
Some of the crew felt Data could be frank to the point of coming across as rude. The Vulcan and Betazoid crew appreciated his honest and open nature.
There were more than a few human crewmembers that felt Data's questions and assessments could do with a softer 'bedside manner.'
Data was a consummate professional. He was also polite to a fault — but some people misinterpreted his mannerisms as cold or unfeeling.
"No, I am not an expert on that subject. But I am capable of perfect recollection of every word you have ever spoken, Captain. And I can analyse speech patterns, intonation, inflection, and body language in ways that humans cannot," Data continued.
At the moment, Data could sense the Captain was uneasy.
"And I can draw inferences from that analysis," Data said.
In spite of the tension in the room, Commander Riker had to fight the urge to smirk. Only Data could chastise the Captain and make it sound so civil.
"The way in which you addressed Lieutenant Yar and Commander Riker this morning was atypical and could be considered harsh," Data went on.
Jean-Luc knew Data was right — and it only added to his frustration.
"Commander Riker may have only served on the Pegasus for a short time prior to her munity and subsequent destruction. But his analysis of that situation comes not only from the experience itself, but also from his years serving in Command," Data pointed out. "He has the advantage to look back on that time from the lens of a Bridge officer."
Riker was so proud of Data that he wanted to kiss him.
"And your comments toward Lieutenant Yar were uncalled for," Data said. "You would never make such prejudicial statements about Lieutenant Worf's heritage nor Counsellor Troi's homeworld."
In comes Data with the haymaker. Riker thought with pride.
"Turkana IV may be considered a failed Federation colony. And it may suffer from ecological and man-made disasters that have fostered an environment where the population has little choice but to resort to violence and crime to combat the abject scarcity," Data said.
Data was on roll now.
"But it is a planet full of people struggling to survive with a rich culture and a fascinating history," Data continued. "And just because we have deemed it unworthy of study or aid does not reduce the value of the people that call it home."
For several seconds, Jean-Luc eyed Data as he debated how to respond.
He had to check his temper. Picard knew Data didn't intend to fuel the already fraught situation. But Jean-Luc was in no mood to be lectured about his conduct.
Picard was upset this conversation had delayed his meeting with Rixx.
He was even more furious that it was Data who had approached him rather than Commander Riker or Tasha herself.
"Thank you, Mr Data. That will be all," Picard said.
The moment Data and Commander Riker were alone on the lift, Riker slapped Data so hard on the back that Data stumbled.
Riker was beaming.
"Steel, Data. Steel," Riker said as he squeezed Data's shoulder.
Steel?
Data didn't follow.
"Fearless," Riker went on.
He was in awe of Data's ability to assert himself so eloquently. Riker was also grateful that Data had stood up for him.
As the First Officer, usually it was Riker that had to push back on the Captain — something Will typically shied away from when it involved himself.
"Absolute steel. But I suppose in your case, solid duranium, eh?" Riker teased.
Will threw his head back and roared with laughter.
Data was perplexed. He glanced around the lift for any exposed steel or duranium elements.
Riker could only laugh and shake his head.
"No, Data. I mean you!" Riker said as he shook Data's shoulders. "That was bold. It was daring. It was—"
Riker trailed off, grinning like an idiot.
"Sir?" Data prompted.
"Don't be modest," Riker said as he playfully elbowed Data.
"Commander, I am afraid that I do not understand," Data confessed.
"You, Data! You're gusty. It took some big cajónes to do what you did back there. It's not easy, believe me," Riker said.
Data cocked his head to the side as he accessed his internal database on human colloquialisms.
"Cajónes. Gutsy. Mettle. Valour. Bollocks—"
Data stopped himself. His eyes went wide with embarrassment.
Riker wiggled his eyebrows.
"Big D energy," Riker said with a wink. "Like I said, solid duranium."
The lift opened.
"Actually, the construction of my sexual anatomy involves a specialised bioplast designed to imitate the size and weight of human sexual organs — though there are differences," Data said as he followed Commander Riker down the corridor.
They turned and headed toward Commander Riker's office.
"Doctor Soong equipped that portion of my anatomy with over sixteen-thousand individual microscopic sensory receptors. That is more than double the amount of nerve fibres found in comparable human construction," Data went on.
"You, my friend, are a modern marvel," Riker replied.
"Hmm," Data said. "I have never thought of it in such terms."
His eyes flit back and forth as he considered the notion.
"I suppose that would be an accurate assessment. The sensory receptors in that portion of my anatomy are only active when my sexual programming is engaged. It means I am otherwise immune to the sort of pain most humanoids experience when impacted in a sensitive region," Data concluded as they approached Commander Riker's door.
Ensign Gomez cleared her throat.
Data and Commander Riker froze.
"Ensign!" Riker said. "Forgive us. Such a topic is not appropriate to discuss in the corridors while on duty."
At that, both Data and Sonya shot Riker a look.
"Oh, I think it's fascinating!" Sonya said in earnest. "The bioplast construction surrounding Data's synthetic musculature has incredible potential for a variety of applications in prosthetics research."
"Thank you, Ensign. I have never fully understood the human compulsion to reject open discussion of their own anatomy," Data replied.
Riker just shook his head.
"Scientists," he remarked.
10:18 hours | USS Enterprise | Main Engineering
"It's a minor setback, sir," Geordi said, stressing just how tiny the issue was.
"I thought you said we could be up and running in three hours?" Picard asked.
Geordi's mouth went dry.
He had promised the Captain three hours.
During his early days as an Engineer, many departmental supervisors had urged Geordi to expand his timeline estimates to give himself wiggle room.
Geordi had felt such a practice was deceptive — especially during emergencies.
He had always been straight with Captain Picard when it came to work estimates because Geordi knew that the Captain relied on his honesty. The length of time it took for Geordi's team to complete work was a key factor when Captain Picard determined any course of action.
"Sir, when we got into the section on Deck 29, we discovered some of the warp plasma conduits were damaged more extensively than previously thought. It's not something the sensors could have picked up during an initial maintenance scan," Miles said.
Jean-Luc was a reasonable man. Miles hoped that putting the situation in perspective would help dissipate the Captain's obvious anger.
"Then why am I just being informed of this now?" Picard asked.
They were supposed to be underway already.
"We've got a team dispatched to replace the damaged portion of the conduit. They're stripping the protective tubing now. Should be thirty, forty-five minutes tops before it's back online," Geordi projected.
Jean-Luc surveyed the room. There were at least a dozen crew members scattered at various stations throughout the command centre of Main Engineering — and a dozen more stationed on the platform above that surrounded the warp core.
All of them kept their heads down and their attention fixated on their work. They could feel the anger radiating off Captain Picard. And no one wanted to be caught in the crossfire.
"I see an awful lot of people standing about," Picard grumbled.
"Sir, the crew has been working hard for days. They're going as fast as they can," Geordi said with a hint of disapproval.
"Not fast enough," Picard snarled.
Miles O'Brien leaned in close.
"Sir, they can hear you. The crew is exhausted. With all due respect, what does it do for morale when the Captain questions those efforts?" Miles asked in his smoothest voice possible.
"And when the crew are forced to watch their friends, their loved ones, their children imprisoned? Tortured? Assaulted? Shipped off for medical experimentation or to serve as Romulan shock troops!" Picard hissed.
He scoffed and shook his head.
"And what, pray tell, Mr O'Brien, do you think that will do for morale?" Picard asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
Miles took a moment before responding.
"Sir, I—"
"You think I'm being too harsh on the crew. That's a perfectly valid opinion, Mr O'Brien. But I'm harsh because I refuse to condemn my crew to a hell where the lucky ones will be the first to die. Mark my words."
Jean-Luc turned to Geordi.
"What?" he demanded.
"Nothing, sir," Geordi replied solemnly.
Captain Picard tugged on the fabric of his uniform to straighten it.
"Good. Then it's time to get back to work, gentlemen," Picard said.
Without another word, Jean-Luc turned on his heel and stormed out of Engineering.
For several agonising seconds, no one spoke. As silence settled on the room, people began to look up from their terminals.
Some of these Engineers had been present on the mission to Lantera. Some had been on duty during the battle. Others had not.
They all had one thing on their minds.
"Did he say Romulans?" Ensign Griffin asked in a hushed whisper.
"I told you that was a Romulan ship," Lieutenant Catawanee replied.
Plenty of officers had caught sight of the D'deridex cruiser and Snakehead attack fighters.
Most of the crew and all civilian personnel had been confined to their quarters or designated safe zones during Red Alert. It was standard procedure.
And while most of the people on the ship did not have access to a viewscreen window within their quarters or at their workstations, far too many people had caught sight of the battle that raged outside against these mysterious ships.
It had only further fuelled the rumours and resentment amongst the crew.
"Alright, alright. Let's get back to work," Geordi said.
"Bridge," Picard barked at the turbolift.
The gentle hum of the lift filled the air. There was a familiar, small lurch as the turbolift carried the Captain up.
Then, Jean-Luc changed his mind.
"Computer, halt."
The lift stopped at Deck 8.
He couldn't stop the inbound Romulan ship or make the Engineers work faster. He had no ability to fix the malfunctions on the Yamato.
He couldn't stop the whispers of the crew.
And he couldn't bring men like Walker Keel and Gregory Quinn back.
He was utterly powerless against a timeline that had sent people — good people like Richard Castillo and Tasha Yar — to their doom.
Picard could count on his hand the number of things he was still in control of.
And that list was dwindling.
But there was one situation Jean-Luc still had the power to sort out. It was a sick feeling that had weaselled its way to the forefront of Picard's mind and had stuck in his craw ever since.
"Deck Fifteen."
10:28 hours | USS Enterprise | Security Office
Tasha was sitting on top of her desk, listening intently as each team leader checked in with an update. Worf was in the corner taking meticulous notes at his own desk.
Tasha had dispatched teams to conduct a general sweep. She had also instructed a few key officers that were aware of the situation to discreetly scan for any foreign communications or surveillance devices.
"The only thing we found on Deck 24 were three bottles of Romulan ale," Ensign Jeffords reported.
Tasha winced.
"Campbell?" Tasha asked.
Jeffords nodded.
"How many times have we warned him?" Tasha asked in disbelief.
Tasha kept a loose security policy when it came to contraband items that were prohibited solely due to political trade embargos.
She did go hunting for it and was keen to look the other way provided people were cautious and no one got hurt.
But if she saw it out in the open or witnessed public exchanges of such items, Tasha was compelled to uphold the law.
Lieutenant Campell had at least a dozen citations for contraband (particularly Romulan ale and Teffikian cigars). Tasha had pleaded with him to at least hide it in a bag when he had to transport it through the corridors.
It was something of a running gag in the Security office.
Only this time, no one was laughing.
The look on Ensign Jefford's face told Tasha that something was very wrong.
"What is it, Ensign?" Tasha prompted.
"It was just out in the open. He wasn't even trying to hide it," Jeffords said.
He was clearly not comfortable discussing the matter.
"Was there something else? Did he become agitated? Or threaten you when you disposed of it?" Tasha pressed.
Jeffords shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He dropped his gaze to the carpet.
"Uh… well, that's the thing. He… he wouldn't," Jeffords said.
He glanced up.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I didn't want to start a fight," Jeffords apologised.
"There's no need to apologise. You assessed the situation and made a judgemental call. You did the right thing, Jeffords," Tasha assured him.
Tasha had warned her teams that the smallest spark could lead to a riot.
"I would have asked him to go back to his quarters, but Campbell's on duty, ma'am," Jeffords explained.
"On duty?"
Tasha had to keep her reaction in check (even if her voice had jumped nearly an octave. Worf looked up from his notes and scowled.
"Yes, Lieutenant. He said—"
Jeffords paused. He didn't like being put on the spot.
"It's not important," Jeffords said quickly.
"What did he say, Ensign?" Worf asked.
Jeffords looked back and forth between the faces of his colleagues.
"When I asked him to save it until he was off duty, Campbell said it didn't matter because we were all going to be dead soon enough anyway," Jeffords shared.
Tasha turned to Worf.
"Relieve Campbell of duty. I'll notify his supervisor. Escort him back to his own quarters and be sure he stays there. No citations," Tasha ordered.
They could deal with a long-overdue talk later. For the moment, Tasha's priority was to minimise the fallout.
Worf was just about to slip out when he nearly bumped into Captain Picard.
Jean-Luc stormed into the Security office. The meeting came to a halt.
"Captain," Tasha said.
It was a rare sight to find the Captain down in the office.
"The next time you take issue with how I run my ship, you come to me directly. You come to me, and we will discuss the matter," Picard said.
His voice shook with anger. The vein on the side of his neck throbbed.
"You—"
He shook his finger at Tasha.
"More than anyone I expect you— of all people— to be frank with me, Tasha," Picard shouted.
Jean-Luc had known Tasha for many years, well before the Enterprise. Their relationship transcended that of Captain and Security Chief.
Jean-Luc saw much of himself in her. She was his protégé.
And because of that relationship, this hurt so much more coming from her.
He felt betrayed and belittled.
Tasha was thoroughly confused. She didn't have a clue what Captain Picard was on about.
"Sir—"
"You stood in my Ready Room and looked me in the eye and gave me your word that duty came first. You swore to me that you could separate your role on this ship from your personal feelings!" Picard roared.
Tasha started to piece together the Captain's ranting.
Data must have said something.
Tasha put her hand up to stop Picard before things went any further.
"Captain, Data—"
"Now is not the time! How do you think it looks to have my senior staff questioning the Captain? Undermining my authority?" Picard went on as a glowered up at Tasha. "It is one thing to disagree around the briefing table, but I expect a united front outside of that room."
It was a necessary part of the command structure.
"Sir, I would never," Tasha insisted.
"ESPECIALLY FROM YOU!" Jean-Luc fumed.
Tasha tried to explain that she had done nothing of the sort. This was all obviously a misunderstanding. She knew what kind of pressure Captain Picard was under and no wish to exacerbate the situation.
But Captain Picard would hear none of it.
"The next time you feel it is necessary to undermine my authority, you come tell me yourself. Don't talk behind my back and don't send your boyfriend to do it for you!" Picard snarled.
Tasha was humiliated.
Her face felt warm. She blinked back hot tears.
She was furious with Captain Picard's behaviour and at being accused of disloyalty and stirring division. She had done all she could to keep the peace.
Tasha was nearly overcome by an uncontrollable hormonal urge to break down.
She tried to maintain her composure for the sake of her team. Jean-Luc could tell she was close to tears. He had once joked there was a new standing order on the Bridge that permitted tears.
Today, he had no such capacity for compassion.
"And if you cannot separate your emotions from your duty, then I will relieve you of your post," Picard threatened.
He didn't wait for a reply.
Picard turned on his heel and marched out of Ten Forward, leaving a stunned room in his wake.
Tasha quickly recovered. She shut down all of her emotions and turned back to the briefing.
"Was there anything else?" Tasha asked.
No one spoke up.
"Right then, back to work," Tasha said with a forced cheeriness that she did not feel.
The team leaders shuffled out of the office to resume their patrol scans. Captain Picard's outburst had done little to reassure the crew.
To Tasha's surprise, Lieutenant Solis lingered.
"Something on your mind, Solis?" Tasha asked.
At this, Worf paused near the door.
"Are you alright Lieutenant?" Solis asked.
Tasha looked just past Lieutenant Solis to where Worf was waiting in silence. A knowing look passed between them, and Worf made himself scarce.
"I'm fine, Lieutenant," Tasha replied.
She stepped behind her desk to fetch her duty log.
As soon as the room was clear, Lieutenant Solis felt safe enough to speak freely.
"I found something," Solis said.
Tasha dropped the duty log and glanced up, her curiosity piqued. Solis was a reliable officer in terms of her duties. She had served on the Enterprise since the beginning.
"You have my attention," Tasha said.
"Forgive me, but I wanted to speak with you alone," Solis said.
Elena Solis had a tendency to run her mouth. She had a reputation for intolerance and had been known to make remarks that were prejudiced toward a number of non-human crew members — especially Worf.
Tasha had issued several warnings to Solis about her behaviour. Things had come to a head during Solis's annual review.
Tasha advised that if things did not change, she would not recommend Solis continue her service aboard the Enterprise.
I'm sorry. It's my father, you see? I was just a girl when he was killed by the Klingons during the war.
Tasha thought it was a hollow excuse.
But Solis had improved (though she'd made a few smarmy remarks about Romulans during the Lantera mission).
So, Tasha prepared herself to take anything Solis said with a grain of salt. Tasha wouldn't put it past Solis to accuse Worf himself of being a Romulan spy.
Lieutenant Solis had noticed some anomalous readings during her patrol on Deck 9.
"When I stepped off the aft lift and through the first arch that leads to the corridor, I noticed my tricorder glitched out. It was only for a second, but when I backtracked—"
Solis paused and took a breath.
"Well, it happened again. Just as before," Solis said.
"Twice in the same place?" Tasha asked.
Solis nodded.
"Yeah. I tried it a third time just to be sure. I scanned the area with my tricorder. Ran my hands over the arch. I even checked behind the lift terminal," Solis said.
She shook her head.
"I didn't find anything."
Solis cupped her hands behind her back.
"It could be nothing — but I didn't want to ignore the possibility," Solis said.
"You did right to bring it to my attention," Tasha said.
She thanked Lieutenant Solis for her diligence (feeling no small sense of relief that Solis hadn't come to point fingers at Worf or any of the Vulcan crew).
But when Tasha turned back to her duty log, she noticed Solis was still hovering near her desk.
"Was there something else, Lieutenant?" Tasha asked.
"Should I go back to investigate?" Solis inquired.
"No. Thank you for informing me. You can take your tea break if you'd like," Tasha replied.
Solis was agitated by Tasha's disinterest in her find.
"But shouldn't we check this out? Shouldn't we be down there? For all we know this could be some sort of weapon!" Solis urged.
"Which is why I want to check it myself after the proper precautions are in place and I've cleared the area," Tasha explained without missing a beat.
She could see Solis's anger deflate.
"Right," the overzealous Lieutenant said with a meek nod.
11:05 hours | USS Enterprise
Tasha hadn't lied to Lieutenant Solis.
She did want to ensure a level-one containment was in place before she started poking around — but she was also grateful for the chance to be alone.
Captain Picard's words had shocked Tasha.
They stung.
Tasha wasn't sure if it was stress or hormones, but she felt utterly incapable of controlling her emotions. First, Worf had questioned Tasha about her weight gain. Then, Data went behind her back.
Now Captain Picard was questioning Tasha's very ability to fulfil the obligations of her post.
Tasha had popped off at Data and nearly wept in the midst of her office.
It all made Tasha feel awful.
Better not be premenstrual! Tasha thought.
The very last thing she needed on top of Romulans and mutiny was her damn period.
At least Tasha was only moments away from solitude.
Tasha was on Deck 9 near the turbolift. True to Lieutenant Solis's word, there was something interfering with tricorder readings near the lift.
It was a residential area of the ship. So, in accordance with the level-one containment perimeter, all of the nearby quarters were temporarily vacated and the people inside were moved to a nearby canteen.
"Lieutenant? Is there some risk? Should I take anything important with me?" asked Doctor Ruan, one of the civilian consultants.
He had his cat in one hand an oversized bag stuffed with personal photos, scrapbooks, and heirlooms.
"No. No risk," Tasha said with a straight face.
This, of course, was a lie.
The very purpose of the containment was to minimise damage in the event Tasha discovered an explosive or lethal agent just lying in wait.
Tasha did not blame Doctor Ruan for his desire to bring along his cat and important belongings.
But she couldn't very well allow him to take the objects — it would only lead to panic.
"Why don't you take Mr Feathertail with you, so he isn't lonely? But you don't need to bring anything else," Tasha said with a smile.
"What's going on, Lieutenant?"
It was Lieutenant Commander Kessler from next door.
"Just a minor issue with the lift computer," Tasha said.
Kessler's eyes narrowed.
"Then why is the Chief of Security involved?" Kessler demanded.
Tasha's eyebrows shot up. She feigned innocence.
"The Engineering team is practically run ragged. This is only a minor repair. My officers and I are pitching in where we can. All hands on deck!"
She winked to really sell it.
"You'd best get a move on. I'm not really mechanically inclined so the sooner I can start, the better for all of us," Tasha said.
Kessler didn't quite buy it but agreed to go on to the designated evacuation point.
Tasha moved along the corridor, knocking on each door individually. She gave everyone a minute or two to wrap up what they were doing or to grab an activity to occupy them for the wait.
Tasha wanted to speak with each person individually rather than using the ship's announcement system. She wanted to try and limit attention to her search — both to avoid a public panic and so as not to tip off the spy.
Tasha clicked the chime to alert the occupants of the next quarters.
She was stunned when the door opened to reveal Rachel Cohn.
Words failed Tasha.
She had not checked the occupants in advance. Now she felt awful for disturbing Rachel during her grieving process.
"I am so very sorry about this," Tasha said.
To her surprise, Rachel responded with a soft smile.
"It's quite alright. Actually, I'm glad you are here," Rachel said.
She moved aside and gestured for Tasha to step into the room. Rachel picked up her tablet from the table.
"I need your help," Rachel said. "If it's not too much trouble?"
"No trouble at all," Tasha replied.
Rachel handed Tasha her tablet and a small metallic object. On further inspection, Tasha realised it was an attachment that allowed for wireless charging.
"I took Counsellor Troi's advice," Rachel said.
She had spent considerable time on and off the night before recording a message for her children. It had helped to work through her grief.
"But I dropped the tablet this morning," Rachel explained.
Tasha reattached the wireless charging attachment. It was a wee bit intricate, but hardly complicated — certainly not something that should have been difficult for someone with Rachel Cohn's background.
"Are you feeling alright?" Tasha asked.
"You're wondering why does an Electrical Engineer need to ask for your help reattaching that device. But you're too polite to ask," Rachel observed.
Tasha's face flushed.
Rachel held up her hand and Tasha took note of the distinctive swollen curves.
"Arthritis," Rachel confessed.
For all the advancements in medical technology, there were some human conditions that couldn't be cured with a fancy device or special treatment.
"Uriah always took care of those things for me. I suppose I'll have to get used to doing them on my own now," Rachel said. "It's part of why we were looking forward to retiring after our stint on the Enterprise was done."
Rachel and Uriah Cohn had hoped to enjoy their final years together. Suddenly, Rachel's smile faded. She looked tired.
And miserable.
Tasha needed to get a move on with her work, though she could not bring herself to rush Rachel along.
"Um… how are you doing?" Tasha asked.
She felt stupid for even asking. On top of all the stress on the ship, Rachel was alone and grieving. Confused. Angry.
Separated from her children.
"Do you really mean it?" Rachel asked.
Tasha didn't understand the question.
"I mean do you really want to know, or did you ask because it's polite?" Rachel inquired.
Rachel's tone was not one of anger.
"Please don't mistake that question for bitterness. It's just that I've been asked so many times in the last day. And I know most people don't really want to know," Rachel said.
Then she chuckled.
"Ensign Marks asked me as the lift was closing," Rachel shared.
Tasha bit her lip. Her eyes were full of pity.
"I know that Captain is doing everything he can to get us… well, he wants you to be able to contact your children just as soon as it's safe to do so," Tasha said.
She reached for Rachel's hand.
"We all do."
Rachel snagged a tissue from the table to dab her eyes.
"You wanted to know how I feel? It's rotten. It's the absolute worst feeling of emptiness in the world," Rachel confessed.
She sniffled. Her shoulders shook as she took a breath.
"To build your whole life with someone. To dedicate your every waking moment to loving them. And for all of that to be gone overnight. Your dreams. Your plans," Rachel sobbed.
Rachel's voice cracked as the tears overwhelmed her.
Tasha wanted to break down too. She had stared down Cardassian Guls, Yars in the fighting pits, and men like Turgon.
But the sight of Rachel Cohn — alone and broken and grieving for her lost love — was not something Tasha was equipped to handle.
Rachel looked up and met Tasha's eyes.
"I hope you never have to know that feeling," Rachel said.
I hope you never have to know that feeling.
Rachel Cohn's words stuck with Tasha.
She had replayed them time and time again as she worked to dismantle the panelling near the lift.
Whatever had caused the disruption to the tricorder had to be small. The disruption was only minimal. And after conducting a sweep of the entire level, Tasha confirmed it was contained specifically to one area — just off the lift.
Tasha had several theories. It was why she had evacuated the area and locked it down before she started poking around.
Tasha heaved one of the panels off and then paused to catch her breath.
As a precaution, she worked in an EV suit. It provided protection from any airborne contaminants and from some forms of dangerous radiation. And if there was any sort of detonation device, Tasha would be shielded from exposure to space. The Bridge crew monitored her work and was on hand in case they needed to beam Tasha back aboard in the event of a hull rupture.
It was hot inside the helmet. Tasha could taste that she was breathing recycled air. Tasha had been in an EV suit more times than she could count. Though she couldn't remember ever feeling so sensitive to it before.
Keep moving. Tasha told herself.
The sooner she cleared this area, the sooner she could get out of the EV suit.
And a maple Raktajino.
Tasha attached a grip clamp to the final panel. She grimaced and pulled as hard as she could.
It did not budge.
Tasha squared her shoulders, took up a strong stance, and prepared to pull again. Work was always difficult in an EV suit — even more so when one was working in a pressurised environment. The suit itself had heavy plating and a rechargeable life support pack.
It weighed more than eight stone.
And Tasha could feel every one of those pounds in her aching shoulders.
With tremendous effort, Tasha managed to rip off the final panel.
She stumbled back into the rear wall. Tasha caught herself on the corner and managed to avoid falling over completely.
Tasha was already feeling inadequate enough when it came to her work. She really didn't want to have to call for someone to help get her upright again.
Tasha scanned the exposed area. There was nothing immediately obvious that stuck out as a foreign device. The built-in tricorder in the EV suit suffered the same glitch as the Tasha's handheld tricorder.
She carefully stepped back over to the wall to investigate further. Each great, clunking step seemed to echo in the abandoned corridor.
Tasha checked the lift computer terminal first. It was the most likely place to conceal a device — but nothing seemed out of place.
The internal bulkhead controls also seemed clear of any foreign devices.
Next, Tasha moved onto a maintenance access terminal that was hidden in the wall. It was the primary merging point for the environmental controls on the aft portion of the deck.
Once again, not a single circuit wire was out of place.
Tasha was steadfast in her resolve that she was going to solve this mystery on her own. She was tired of having her commitment and capabilities called into question.
Tasha was so absorbed in her work that she didn't even notice that she was being observed.
Time to get creative.
Tasha ran her glove along the underside of the arch support.
She gasped softly as her fingers came into contact with a small, inconspicuous device. It was attached to the back of the support beam in a place that likely would have gone unnoticed by an Engineer.
Tasha grinned as she felt a small latch on the side. She clicked it twice, paused, and then clicked it twice again.
As expected, the device detached.
"Well, well, well," Tasha said as she pulled it out.
"Are you sure you should be doing that?"
Tasha jumped at the sound of another voice — smacking her head on the support beam as she was startled. It was a good thing she was wearing a helmet, or she likely would have suffered a mild concussion.
"I'm sorry!" Guinan apologised.
She rushed over to Tasha's side and helped her to the ground.
Tasha was panting hard from both the exertion and the jump scare. She detached her helmet and collapsed back against the wall.
Tasha closed her eyes to savour that first breath of fresh air.
"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to give you a fright," Guinan said as she knelt down.
"It's alright. Needed a break," Tasha replied.
Suddenly, Tasha's eyes flew open. She frowned while studying Guinan with heavy scepticism.
"What are you doing down here? This whole area is under quarantine."
Guinan smiled.
"When you didn't come in for lunch, I grew worried," Guinan said.
She reached behind and produced a takeaway bag along with a drink carrier.
"High protein, whole grains, packed with flavour, extra pickles, and plenty of hot sauce," Guinan promised.
It was Guinan's take on one of Tasha's favourite lunch meals but with a few additions. In Guinan's experience, it was exactly the sort of meal fit for a highly active expectant mother with a heavy workload.
"Today's Raktajino is cinnamon dolce, and we have an uttaberry and lemon milkshake," Guinan said as she identified the contents of two separate thermoses.
Tasha let her head fall back as she laughed.
"Aren't you run ragged from all the people pouring into Ten Forward?" Tasha asked.
Guinan had really stepped up to help boost morale.
"I only came one deck," Guinan replied.
She sat back against the wall and unwrapped her own lunch.
"Besides, I needed to get out of Ten Forward for a bit," Guinan confessed.
She didn't sleep much and typically liked to be in Ten Forward. But Guinan had put in a lot of hours the last few weeks. Just like the rest of the crew, she was exhausted.
"What did you find?" Guinan asked.
Tasha hesitated.
"Look, who am I gonna tell?" Guinan asked.
"And how do I know you're not a Romulan spy?" Tasha threw back. "Tending bar would be the perfect cover. You see everything. You hear everything."
Guinan shrugged.
"Oh, I swore off all espionage after 1967," Guinan said.
"You were a spy?" Tasha asked, stunned.
"It was really more of a hobby."
Tasha blinked. She was at a loss for words.
Guinan often made unusual references to different eras or wild experiences — though each new revelation still managed to surprise her friends. It was hard to think of Guinan as being as old as she truly was.
She had experienced so much more than any of them could ever hope for in a lifetime.
Tasha turned the device over in her hand.
"It's a canary," she announced.
"Doesn't look like any bird I've ever seen," Guinan remarked with a wry grin.
"Well, it's more of a metaphorical canary," Tasha said.
Tasha didn't know what the Romulans called the device. But she was familiar with the design from her stint in Covert Ops.
The 'canary' was not of Romulan design. In fact, they were manufactured by the now-deceased people of Minos.
"Usually, we see these on Breen set-ups," Tasha said. "They put them behind the wall panels or near the arches on derelict ships, abandoned buildings, that sort of thing."
"So, it's a surveillance device?" Guinan asked.
"Sort of. It can be calibrated to respond to certain frequencies," Tasha explained.
She glanced over to the lift.
"With all the traffic in and out of this spot, it's probably not keyed into combadge frequencies. I would suspect it's been attuned to ping whenever a phaser or Security tricorder passes," Tasha said.
Security officers were generally the only personnel to carry a phaser while on duty (outside of training at the phaser range or in select areas while en route to away missions).
"This device sends a signal back to the user anytime someone passes by carrying an object with one of the targeted frequencies. It's a warning," Tasha said.
"Like a canary in a mineshaft," Guinan said.
Tasha nodded.
"And I'll bet—"
Tasha trailed off.
She whipped out her phaser pistol and fired.
Nothing happened.
The device also temporarily scrambled the phaser frequency to render the weapon ineffective.
"But that would only work over a short range," Guinan said — she was something of an expert.
"Yeah," Tasha said in a faraway voice.
Her mind was on the suspect list. She mentally ran through the list of names, cross-checking who lived on Deck 9.
It was one of the primary housing decks for officers and families. There were more than two hundred people housed on Deck 9.
Tasha threw off her heavy EV suit gloves. She tapped the forearm of her suit to activate the comms channel built into the helmet to page Lieutenant Jae.
Jae was one of the officers stationed at the evacuation point.
"Jae? Did you watch that replay of the Sharks game?" Tasha asked.
It was their code.
There was a brief pause before Lieutenant Jae responded.
"Alright, I'm alone," Jae said.
Tasha wanted to know if anyone had asked to leave or demonstrated obvious signs of irritation.
"You just described half the room," Jae quipped.
Tasha might have known.
"Alright, is anyone calm? Too calm? Maybe they've tried to stay out of the way or isolated themselves to a corner?" Tasha inquired.
"Yeah. A few," Jae answered. "Lieutenant, did you want me to keep them in here?"
Tasha had not ordered the evacuated personnel to remain in place.
"No, they're free to come and go. Just keep track of who does. I'll circle back with you this afternoon," Tasha replied.
Tasha then radioed down to the Security office and asked Worf to prepare a stationary covert surveillance device.
The use of such a device required the Captain's approval. Starfleet normally did not have to resort to such drastic measures.
"Would you like me to speak with the Captain instead?" Worf offered.
"No, I'll do it," Tasha replied.
"Very well, I will make the necessary preparations," Worf responded.
Tasha turned and reattached the device to the backside of the support beam.
"You're going to leave it in place," Guinan observed. "You're hoping the person responsible will come back to check on it."
"I'm hoping if they see it's still there, they will assume we found nothing," Tasha said.
She knew from experience that there were ways to trip up a spy. They got sloppy when they were under pressure.
Or when they thought they got away with something.
"What did Worf mean about the Captain?" Guinan pressed.
"It's nothing," Tasha lied.
The Captain had been harsh, but Tasha recognised that he was frustrated over the delay and simply looking for an outlet. She didn't take it personally — even if it had been embarrassing at the time.
Guinan quirked a telling eyebrow in Tasha's direction.
Tasha resigned herself that it was pointless to try and hide anything from Guinan.
"The Captain is just under a lot of pressure right now. He's just doing what he has to do in order to keep us all safe. To get us home," Tasha said.
"And he can be unreasonable. Angry. A downright pompous arse," Guinan said.
"I didn't say that!" Tasha said quickly.
They both laughed.
"Word travels pretty fast when the Captain goes on a rampage. All morning I've had people pouring in with stories from Engineering and the Security office," Guinan shared. "You know, I've never seen Commander Riker so rattled."
"So, that's why you brought me lunch?" Tasha asked.
She was touched.
"It's not the only reason. I'm worried about you. You don't take care of yourself," Guinan said.
There was no use denying it.
"Data isn't the only one that cares, you know?" Guinan went on.
Tasha dove into her takeaway as she and Guinan chatted. Food was exactly what she needed.
"I am glad you did. As of late, I've sort of been eating my feelings," Tasha confessed.
Guinan's face broke out into a broad smile.
"It's perfectly natural," Guinan assured her.
"Natural, sure. But not terribly healthy. Before long, I won't be able to fit into one of these suits anymore," Tasha said.
At that, Guinan made a face.
"Speaking of which, did Doctor Crusher clear you for this sort of duty?" Guinan questioned.
Tasha was shocked. She assumed Guinan was referring to their recent mission to Lantera. Many officers had been injured and were now on reduced or light duty — Tasha was not one of them.
"Of course. I'm not on any restrictions," Tasha replied.
Guinan was sceptical.
"On my honour as a Starfleet officer," Tasha promised.
"Alright," Guinan agreed.
After all, it had been many years since Guinan's last pregnancy. Parenting practices, antenatal care, and expectations were constantly changing.
"Drink your milkshake before it melts," Guinan ordered.
"Aye, aye," Tasha replied.
11:40 hours | USS Enterprise | Ready Room
Captain Picard covered his mouth with his hand. He rubbed his chin and sighed in deep frustration.
Jean-Luc looked up from the surface of his desk at the four long faces that stood before him. Data, Geordi, Commander Riker, and Miles had all been summoned to update the Captain on the readiness of the ship.
"Gentlemen, I am going to ask this question once — and only once — and I expect an honest, accurate answer," Picard prefaced.
His gaze settled on Geordi La Forge.
"How long before my ship is ready to move again, Mr La Forge? I grow tired of playing starbase," Picard asked.
"Thirty, forty-five minutes at the most," Geordi replied confidently.
Jean-Luc raised one eyebrow.
"That is the same answer you gave me ninety minutes ago," Picard reminded him.
"I apologise, sir. The work is taking longer than anticipated," Geordi said.
Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his stomach.
"Another unforeseen delay? Damage we couldn't detect? Tell me, should we put a pin in our mission?" Picard asked.
For a brief moment, Commander Riker hoped that Captain Picard had come to his senses, that he might give them the day to recuperate and repair the ship before rushing off to aid the Yamato.
But his hopes were dashed when the Captain continued.
"Maybe we should just hang around for a week or two while run a complete maintenance cycle, huh? Tell the Yamato to sit tight and ask the Romulans to hold off?" Picard asked.
His voice was full of a bitterness so uncharacteristic of the Captain (even with Picard's reputation as a gruff leader).
Miles cleared his throat.
"Captain, one of the crew was injured while working on the plasma coil repair. The delay is because we needed to get them to Sickbay and dispatch a new team," Miles explained.
Lieutenant Barclay had been injured when Ensign Creighton failed to follow procedure. Creighton had been on hand for the Captain's outburst. She was so worried about failing the Captain and the threat of the Romulans (which at this point was an open secret), that she had left her toolkit in the middle of the corridor.
Reg had tripped and fallen onto an exposed coil.
Geordi had immediately ordered all work to stop. Reg was rushed to Sickbay, Geordi ran through the appropriate safety checklist, and Miles dispatched a new team to take over.
"Doctor Crusher believes he will be fine," Geordi said.
His priority was the safety of the crew.
"Well, by all means. Let's drop everything because Mr Barclay's skinned his knee," Picard scoffed.
Riker had reached his limit — but it was Data who spoke up first.
"Captain, Mr Barclay was injured because a crew member was rushing. She was concerned that any failure to meet the deadline would result in failing you," Data said.
"Sir, the crew are terrified. When was the last time you stepped into the corridor and heard an honest conversation about what's going on out there?" Riker asked.
Jean-Luc seemed almost amused by the question. He certainly couldn't wander the ship on the eve of battle like Henry V. And Jean-Luc wasn't about to don a disguise just to tell him what he already knew.
"I don't have that luxury, Number One," Picard said.
Anytime he walked into a room, the crew jumped to attention. Conversation stopped. People did their best to keep their eyes low and focused on their work.
"Because they're afraid of you. They're afraid of letting you down, of failing their colleagues," Riker said.
"And now Romulan prison camps," Miles added.
Jean-Luc felt a surge of anger. He knew he was responsible for confirming the Romulan rumour given the incident in Main Engineering.
"Good!" Picard snarled.
He leapt up from his chair and turned to the window near Livingston's tank.
"Perhaps now the crew will understand why all these procedures and extra work are necessary," Picard said.
His posture softened. Jean-Luc kept his attention focused on the window.
"You saw the survivors from the Enterprise-C, gentlemen. You spoke with them. I refuse to let that happen to this ship," Picard declared.
No one spoke.
That fear had been on the forefront of their minds for more than a week.
"Now please, get back to work," Picard said.
As soon as the room was clear, Captain Picard relaxed.
He felt positively toxic inside over the way he treated the crew.
Picard turned toward Livingston's tank where the lionfish was swimming lazily along toward the rocks on the bottom.
"I fear by the time this is through, you may be the only friend I have left," Picard said.
Livingston scurried away to seek refuge under his rock.
"I don't blame you," Picard remarked.
Suddenly, the door chimed.
Jean-Luc scowled at the prospect of another delay. He took a breath to steady his nerves and shook his hands out to relieve some tension.
"Come," Picard called out.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Guinan said.
"Guinan, now is really not the time."
She ignored him and stepped in anyways.
"Oh, I'd say it's exactly the time," Guinan countered.
Jean-Luc's face soured.
"This isn't a social call, Jean-Luc," Guinan said.
She plopped a takeaway lunch on his desk. After all, Captains had to eat too.
"You're busy. I know. And I can't reattune phasers or solder hull panelling. But I can do this," Guinan said.
It was the first time Jean-Luc had smiled all day.
"Thank you, Guinan," he said, now feeling small and foolish for being abrupt.
"Think nothing of it," she assured. "I know you've been running around. With all you've got on your plate, I figured this was the least I could do."
"Mmm, thank you," Picard repeated.
He practically tore off the top and dove into the soup she had brought along. Picard paused just long enough to rip off a hunk of crusty homemade bread for dunking.
"I don't remember the last time I saw so much of this ship outside of my nightly strolls," Picard remarked.
It was a well-known fact the Captain liked to stroll alone in the wee hours of the morning.
Guinan nodded slowly.
"I suppose your job doesn't usually afford you much time to get down to Engineering or the Security Office," Guinan said.
Jean-Luc dropped his spoon. He looked up and frowned.
"Don't," he warned.
Between bites, Jean-Luc started to air his grievances.
"I'm trying to keep them safe," Picard grumbled.
"Oh, I know. Word travels fast when the Captain starts to talk about Romulan prison camps," Guinan said.
It was stupid of Jean-Luc to blow up like that in public — but he couldn't help it. He was so emotionally frayed that he didn't think he could shoulder another burden without collapsing under the weight of it all.
"Let me guess, you had a little conversation with Commander Riker? Did Data come to you to ask for advice? Or maybe Lieutenant Yar needed a shoulder to cry on?"
"No," Guinan replied simply.
She slipped into the seat across from the Captain's desk.
"Commander Riker and I met earlier to plan the activities for tonight. I asked how you were doing. He told me that he didn't want to let you down," Guinan shared.
It was the truth.
"And when I dropped off lunch for Lieutenant Yar, she echoed that sentiment. Tasha said you were doing everything you could to keep the ship safe. To get everyone home," Guinan said.
Captain Picard shrank into his chair.
Guinan followed his line of sight to a framed photo on the wall. The young faces in that photo were adventurous and hopeful. Their sense of curiosity practically burst through the seams of their signature red Starfleet uniforms.
Now more than half of them were gone.
"Who are you willing to sacrifice to chase ghosts?" Guinan asked.
"What?" Picard snapped.
"You heard me," Guinan said.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"You're loyal. So are your people," Guinan went on. "And if you don't stop to remember that, if you keep pushing them away, frightening them, sooner or later one of them is going to get hurt."
Picard rolled his eyes.
"You don't understand. This isn't about ego or chasing the past. I'm not hoping to find Iconia," Picard said. "Dammit this about saving lives!"
Picard got up from his desk. He couldn't sit and eat now. There was no way he could finish his meal. The conversation had put him right off it.
"I've known Donald Varley for more than forty years. I'm not about to abandon him and the Yamato."
Picard began to pace.
"Not to that fate," Picard muttered.
"And your team knows what's at stake. They just want to be sure the ship is ready. What's the first rule in an emergency, Picard?"
Jean-Luc stopped.
"I don't have time for games, Guinan."
"You can't save the Yamato if your own ship is taking on water," Guinan urged. "You built this team. You chose these people because you trust their instincts. Now let them work."
"He's out there because I failed to stop him. I thought that diplomacy and conversation would be enough to show Varley that it was a grave mistake to go," Picard said.
Jean-Luc had been unable to shake that feeling since the morning.
"I let him go, Guinan," Picard confessed. "I could have ordered the Bridge to disable one of their nacelles or targeted a power relay."
Picard shook his head. Then he glanced out the window into the nebula.
"I let him go. And now, I need to fix this."
Jean-Luc had always been consumed with responsibility for situations that were outside of his control.
"Once the ship is underway, I'll speak with the crew and make my apologies," Picard promised.
As if on cue, Livingston swam out from behind his rock to float in his usual spot.
12:37 hours | USS Enterprise | Main Engineering
Geordi's face scrunched up as he tried to finagle his hand through a tricky spot. He pushed past one of the heavier wires and managed to slip his sonic driver against the necessary part.
Geordi breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the bolt click into place.
He wiggled his hand back through the labyrinth of wires and coils. Geordi sat back on his knees and glanced over his shoulder to check the time.
He turned to study the panel, then checked the time again.
"Stop worrying. We're almost done," Miles said without looking up from the underside of the plasma coil.
"I should notify Captain Picard. We're already seven minutes behind schedule. I'm surprised he hasn't radioed yet," Geordi said.
"We're almost done," Miles insisted.
There was no sense in bothering the Captain and risking another reprimand when they had just minutes of work remaining.
"I think he'll be more upset if he contacts us first," Geordi said.
Geordi tapped his communicator.
"Engineering to Captain Picard."
There was a brief pause. Geordi counted the seconds. Each one felt like an eternity as Geordi braced himself to take the Captain's anger.
But to Geordi's surprise, Captain Picard did not fly off the handle.
"Thank you for the update, Mr La Forge. Please advise when you're finished," Picard answered.
Picard's tone was still short — but a far cry from the blowback Geordi had anticipated.
A look passed between Geordi and Miles.
"Well, that's a relief," Miles said.
"You can say that again," Geordi replied.
For the first time since he'd woken up that morning, Geordi felt like he had an inch of breathing room.
"Oh damn," Miles cursed.
Geordi grimaced.
What now?
That was the question he wanted to ask. But Geordi stopped himself. Miles didn't deserve any attitude from him. It wasn't the Chief's fault they kept hitting snag after snag.
"Chief?" Geordi asked.
"One of the interlocks is loose. I don't think I can tighten it without replacing the mechanism," Miles said.
It wouldn't take long to swap them out. Geordi and Miles could easily accomplish the task in thirty minutes or less.
It wasn't a task they could accomplish while at warp — nor was it a problem they could ignore.
When loose, the plasma coils leaked radiation. There were protective panels in place to minimise the impact on nearby areas. And the sensors would alert the crew to any problems if levels became hazardous.
But loose plasma coils could cause dangerous fluctuations and power surges to the warp corp. When they occurred, it meant the entire warp core had to be taken offline.
That was a big risk — too big a risk — for a possible showdown with a Romulan ship.
"I'll get the spares if you want to start stripping them," Miles offered. "If we tag-team it, we should have this done in thirty."
"Thirty what?"
It was Data.
He had stepped away from the suspect interviews to check in with Miles and Geordi regarding the delay.
"Thirty minutes," Miles said on his way down the corridor to grab the spares from the maintenance locker.
"Geordi?" Data asked, hoping for an explanation.
Geordi was lying on his back. He wiggled along the carpet to push himself up under the coil.
"We've got a loose coil, Data," Geordi explained.
"May I help?" Data offered.
"Sure, let's get these bearings off," Geordi said.
Data took up a spot on the opposite side and started to remove the parts necessary to access the damaged interlock pieces.
Data was about to start in with a sonic driver when he stopped. He tilted his head to the side to listen carefully.
His audio receptors were sensitive to a gentle hum that resonated through the components.
"Geordi, stop."
"I'm almost… there… just need to—"
There was a spark.
Geordi howled with pain. He dropped his tool and retracted his hand.
"Yowch!" he hissed.
Data was at Geordi's side in a flash.
"You have been electrocuted," Data.
"Yeah. I know," Geordi replied dryly.
He could still feel the tingling sensation in the tips of his fingers.
"The current has not been shut off prior to dismantlement," Data said.
"I know! I know!" Geordi insisted.
He realised it as soon as Data had urged him to stop. But by that point, it was already too late. Geordi was rushing to finish because of the deadline and didn't want to cause another lengthy delay.
"You require medical treatment. Can you see yourself to Sickbay or shall I page a medical team?" Data inquired.
Geordi scowled.
"I'm fine," he insisted.
Data was not pleased with this protest.
"You need medical attention, Geordi."
"It's just a little shock. I'm fine, really. We need to get this done," Geordi said.
Data frowned ever-so-slightly.
"Geordi," he warned.
Only Geordi wasn't going to stand for it. He picked up his sonic driver and moved back into his position. His hand still stung from the shock. He would need to get checked out eventually.
"I will take over. You should go to Sickbay," Data advised.
"It can wait until we get done," Geordi said.
Data turned back to resume his work.
He picked up his sonic driver.
Data detected the power surge 0.0078 seconds before it struck — but it wasn't enough time for him to warn Geordi.
Or move.
Geordi was blown into the far wall. He impacted it hard enough to cause a crack in the reinforced polymer plating.
Geordi's body slipped to the floor.
Data's entire body surged with electricity. It spasmed and twitched. The energy was desperate for a place to discharge.
Data was painfully conscious for seven full agonising seconds before his neural net shut itself down to prevent damage.
He slumped onto the carpet and did not move again.
12:52p | USS Enterprise | Deck 17 — Engineer Supply
Miles O'Brien whistled as he stepped onto the lift.
It was a relief to know Captain Picard had calmed back down to his typical crusty demeanour. They would soon have the repairs complete and be underway.
Miles had promised to make Keiko dinner and was really looking forward to sharing his mum's recipe for baked cod cakes.
The sooner they finished up, the sooner Miles could head back to his quarters and start prepping.
The lift ground to a halt.
Miles stepped off. His arms were full of supplies from the stockroom. He was carrying so many materials that Miles could barely see in front of him. It was a good thing he knew the layout like the back of his hand.
Most of his dreams involved walking the corridors or performing a never-ending list of repairs.
"Alright, ready to wrap this up?"
There was no answer.
"Commander? Lieutenant?"
Miles peeked around his armful of supplies. His eyes fell on Data's lifeless body.
Miles dropped the supplies. That was when he noticed Geordi had been thrown into the back wall.
Violently.
"Jaysus," Miles gasped.
He dropped down to check for a pulse on Geordi. There was a pulse, and Geordi was breathing. But his breath was shallow. Geordi was also unconscious.
Miles glanced over at Data. He wasn't sure what to do or check for. Data's biofunctions were similar but certainly not the same.
The Chief tapped his communicator.
"I need a medical team to junction 718 Baker!" Miles ordered.
13:10 hours | USS Enterprise | The Captain's Ready Room
Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat perfectly motionless at his desk. He was staring out the window in his Ready Room, unable to process anything.
By all accounts, it should have been a peaceful moment.
There was no sound save for the gentle hum of the environmental system. The lights were dim. There was a soothing glow that emanated from Livington's tank.
Guinan's warning echoed in Picard's mind.
Who are you willing to sacrifice to chase ghosts?
Sooner or later one of them is going to get hurt.
Jean-Luc couldn't sit still anymore. He couldn't shake the feeling that Livingston was staring at him — wordlessly reminding Jean-Luc of his own guilt.
Picard leapt from his seat. It was time to face the inevitable.
13:21 | USS Enterprise | Sickbay
Captain Picard stepped through door to Sickbay.
He normally swept into any room full of self-assurance. In a matter of seconds, his natural aura of leadership ensured that Picard would command the attention of the room.
This time, Jean-Luc froze.
Geordi was lying on one of the hospital cots. He was conscious, but heavily sedated.
Beverly was at his side as she checked over his vitals. Geordi's neural interface with his VISOR created a greater risk of injury from electrical shock.
The VISOR was equipped with a safety shutoff — but Geordi still took an awful electrical shock prior to it activating.
Geordi was attached to a device that would temporarily help regulate the rhythm of his heart.
Beverly glanced up from her work and locked eyes with the Captain. It was obvious that she wanted to tell him off but refrained.
"Chief O'Brien is down there working to complete your repairs," Beverly said.
Commander Riker was at Geordi's bedside too. He had dropped everything and rushed down to join the medical team to check on Geordi and Data.
"Captain," Riker said with a stiff nod.
Worf and Deanna were standing in the corner. Worf's lip curved downward as he stared at Captain Picard, Worf eyes belying the fury he felt over the situation.
Tasha was seated next to Data. She started at the wall. One hand was looped through Data's fingers. To make matters worse, Tasha appeared physically ill.
Beverly stepped up behind Captain Picard. She kept her voice low.
"I don't know what's wrong with him," she said. "We suspect his system must have shut down to prevent damage. But the only one that's really qualified to determine that is Geordi — and he won't be in any state to check for some time."
They had already tried to reactivate Data by flipping the switch in the small of his back. Beverly couldn't detect anything with her neural scanner or even a tricorder.
Deanna couldn't sense anything from Data.
Data's body had shut down before — but it had never taken this long to reboot.
All eyes fell on the Captain.
Picard closed his eyes and sighed. He felt awful.
Before Jean-Luc could say a word, Guinan glided into Sickbay bearing tea for everyone. Indeed, word had travelled fast.
Though she was worried about everyone, Guinan was especially disturbed by the news that Data was unresponsive.
Guinan knew Data and Tasha were planning for a long-overdue date night. Tasha had shared that they were planning to discuss something that night.
And Guinan had an inkling that she knew just what that something was.
"I never wanted this," Picard acknowledged.
It did little reassure the team. Tasha looked stunned. Worf glowered. Deanna pursed her lips in disapproval.
She could sense the Captain was distraught over his role in these injuries and his egregious behaviour. But Deanna also knew that it was difficult for Jean-Luc to apologise.
The team waited patiently.
"As soon as we locate the Yamato, once this mission is done — it's over," Picard announced.
He rubbed his chin and shook his head.
"I've made the decision that I will leave our crew and civilians at a safe, neutral location. I will then take the Enterprise to meet Admiral Aaron. Alone," Picard said.
Riker's anger dissipated.
"Captain, you cannot —"
"That's an order, Number One."
Jean-Luc barked that he would take no questions on the matter. His mind was made up.
"It's time to face the music and dance," Picard said.
The team were left reeling.
Worst of all, Deanna knew this was a bad plan but could tell the Captain's mind was set. There would be no talking Jean-Luc down from this one.
"Lieutenant Yar, I'd like to speak with you alone," Picard said.
"I'll stay with him," Worf promised her.
"We all will," Deanna chimed in.
Beverly offered Captain Picard the use of her office.
Tasha said nothing. She opted to forgo sitting so that she might stand in the corner and keep an eye on Data through the glass.
"I'll keep this short," Picard said.
"Yes, sir."
Tasha's voice was devoid of all emotion.
"I want you to remain here with Data. I'll have Commander Riker and Lieutenant Worf take over the investigation," Picard said.
"It's alright, sir. I stood in your Ready Room and promised my relationship would never interfere with my duty," Tasha said.
She did not tear her eyes away from Data.
"It's an order, Lieutenant," Picard said.
He'd been downright nasty to all of them — especially Tasha.
"And once we're back in Federation space, I'm giving you and Mr Data a shuttle. Take it and go to Føroyar," Picard pleaded.
He couldn't promise they would be safe there.
Sooner or later the conspiracy would come for all the senior officers. They knew too much. They had been too close to the investigation.
Jean-Luc feared Data and Tasha would only have a few days before Admiral Aaron caught up to them. But he wanted to give them that at least.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Picard apologised. His voice cracked. "I should have let you go ages ago."
Tasha dropped her gaze to the floor. She started picking at her fingernails as she took a shaky breath. She nodded slowly.
If.
Captain Picard's promise all came down to a very special 'if.'
They could take a shuttle.
They could finally go to Føroyar.
If Data woke up.
Miles O'Brien didn't stop to wipe his brow. He had sweat pouring into his eyes. He hissed as it stung, but he kept moving.
With Data and Geordi lying in Sickbay, it was up to Miles to finish the task.
It was exactly like the nightmares O'Brien had — long hours, working alone, immense pressure.
And the feeling he was drowning under the workload.
O'Brien was typically an easy-going guy. He kept cool in a crisis and could work just as efficiently under pressure as he did when they were on downtime.
Only in this case, Miles wasn't whistling. There was no soft signing. He wasn't cracking jokes. In fact, O'Brien was unusually quiet.
It was only because of this silence that he was able to hear the lift slide open. A moment later, a toolkit dropped on the carpet.
Then a nearby panel detached.
Miles sat up and blinked in astonished silence.
"Start by stripping those damaged portions of the coil. Marks, help me clean up the area. Barclay, do you think you can handle the coupling?"
Sonya Gomez had arrived with backup and was already putting them to work.
She froze at the sight of the Chief.
"I…I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to uh… well, we're here to help. What are your orders?" she stammered.
Miles simply flashed her smile.
"You've got it all under control, Ensign. Thank you," he answered.
13:48 | USS Enterprise | Sickbay
The Enterprise and the Thomas Paine were finally underway to check on the Yamato.
At Tasha's request, the rest of the team had returned to their duties. She wanted a moment alone with Data and had promised to watch over Geordi too.
It was unnerving to see Data in such a state.
Tasha laid her head down on Data's chest. She missed the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each artificial breath and the sound of his power cell as it beat in his chest cavity.
Now it was empty.
Tasha closed her eyes and prayed to any deity that would listen. She was furious with herself for all the time she had wasted before finally admitting her feelings for Data.
She was angry at the universe for all that Data had been forced to endure between Bruce Maddox, the Walsh's, Lore, and the father that abandoned him.
Tasha sat back. She stroked his hair and traced shapes in the palm of Data's hand.
There was no change.
She really didn't want to break down in the middle of Sickbay, but Tasha simply couldn't compartmentalise her emotions anymore.
She leaned in close against Data's face, resting her forehead against his own.
"Please come back to me," Tasha whispered.
She pressed a soft kiss against Data's temple.
14:21 | USS Yamato
Captain Donald Varley had no way to know how many survivors were left on his ship.
Most of the survivors were huddled in isolated pockets where life support systems were still functioning. Varley had confirmed there were teams split between the Bridge, the canteen on Deck 9, the primary Biolab, and Sickbay.
Main Engineering had sealed itself an hour earlier. There had been no contact from inside since.
Varley only hoped the crew in the lower decks had managed to reach the Battle Bridge before the environmental controls there had gone out.
Half an hour earlier, one group trapped inside the transporter bay had succeeded in temporarily recovering transporter function. They beamed down a handful of crew to the surface before a nearby hatch blew — exposing the whole deck to space.
It wasn't the only attempted escape.
Varley wasn't angry. He was impressed his team were trying to find ways to save themselves or retake the ship.
Out on the Bridge, his own Operations Chief had a theory about restoring transporter function within the ship.
It was far less complicated to beam someone within the designated areas of the ship than to beam them to a further distance outside the hull.
"Captain, I think we may have something."
Varley left his Ready Room and emerged on the Bridge to check on their progress.
"Watch," the Operations Chief advised.
He activated an onboard site-to-site transporter. Varley grinned as he heard the familiar shimmering noise of an object materialising.
By the time the crate appeared, Varley's grin had turned to a full-blown smile under his bushy moustache.
"What's next? What does this give us?" Varley pressed.
He wanted options.
"We're limited to the ship. But we could try to reach another area," suggested the Operations Chief.
Varley mulled over his options.
"I've heard Main Engineer is nice this time of year," he teased. "Let's do it."
Varley nodded, gesturing for them to send him down.
"Sir, you can't."
They didn't want to risk sending the Captain as the first test subject. There was no guarantee the plan would work.
"I will go," a tall Vulcan said.
One of Varley's science officers stepped forward to volunteer.
"This is dangerous, Sulor," Varley said.
Varley didn't want to order anyone to their death.
"You could die," Varley warned.
"Captain, it is only logical that if we do not find a solution that we will all die," Sulor responded.
He took up a position in the open space near the centre of the Bridge and nodded to the Operations Chief.
"Please beam me to Engineering."
Varley nodded Sulor, praying it wouldn't be for the final time.
"Take a radio so we can contact you," Varley said.
One of the fellow Bridge officers passed Sulor an old-style radio communicator. It was how the crew was working around the communications outage.
The Operations Chief activated the transporter. Sular dematerialised before their eyes as the rest of the crew on the Bridge waited in anticipation.
The Operations Chief blanched. His hands froze on the controls.
Varley didn't want — he clicked to activate his own radio.
"Sulor? Come in?"
There was no answer.
"Beam him back. Now!" Varley barked.
The Operations Chief shook his head. There was nothing he could do — Sulor's pattern was lost.
16:03 | USS Enterprise | Bridge
"We're receiving initial data back from the probe we dispatched earlier, sir," Lieutenant Jae advised.
"Onscreen," Picard ordered.
He gripped the seat of the Command Chair and braced himself for the worst.
"My, my," Picard said.
He sat forward and chuckled, overcome with relief.
"There she is," Picard breathed.
"Looks like the running lights are still on," Riker added as they studied the image the probe had transmitted back.
The Yamato was intact. She appeared to be in one piece and there were signs to indicate power was on — at least in parts of the ship.
It was a good sign that there were survivors. Whatever virus or malfunctions had overtaken the ship had failed to destroy the Yamato.
Deanna was hit with a warm, welcome sensation as the Captain's anxiety lessened.
There was still a major issue with the Yamato that had rendered her derelict. Communications were out. And a Romulan ship remained on a clear intercept course.
"ETA in less than an hour, sir," Riker advised.
16:43 | USS Enterprise | Bridge
The Enterprise and the Thomas Paine were less than two minutes out from the Yamato.
"Shields up. Yellow alert," Picard ordered.
The ship dropped out of warp. For several tense moments, the team tried to raise the Yamato with no response.
Worf scanned the interior of the Yamato and detected a number of alarming signs.
"I'm picking up life signs in sporadic locations. Communications are offline. Navigation is down."
A number of key areas were without life support and several critical hatches had been blown open. Nearly half the ship was exposed to space.
One good sign was that the shields were down — that meant they could beam out the survivors.
"Sir, the Thomas Paine is hailing," Worf announced.
"On screen."
Captain Rixx appeared.
"I have the Yamato. We're patching them through now," Rixx announced.
A smile broke out on Jean-Luc's face — a first in a day of one disaster after the next.
Captain Rixx had an inkling it might be worth trying to reach them on an old radio communicator. It was a trick used by covert ops when they wanted to avoid known frequencies and was a go-to option in emergencies when communications were down.
The Enterprise was finally in range to pick up on the chatter.
"Well, it's about damn time!" Varley said.
Jean-Luc chuckled.
"You have no idea how sweet your voice sounds, Donald," Picard replied.
Down in Sickbay, Tasha had felt the ship lurch as it dropped out of warp. She had her hand looped through Data's fingers and kept her head low.
Tasha felt exhausted. The weight of conducting a detailed search in an EV suit had really taken its toll.
She just wanted to curl up with Data and fall asleep.
The fact that he wasn't breathing or moving only reinforced how bad things were.
Without warning, Tasha felt Data's grip tightened. His fingers closed around her hand, holding it tight.
Too tight.
Tasha gasped. Her head shot up to look at Data.
His body twitched violently. Tasha hissed and bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Data's grip nearly crushed her hand.
Suddenly, Data's eyes flew open.
They were still empty. His pupils had a tendency to 'retreat' when he was deactivated. It was an eerie sight.
"Rebooting central power cell. Stabilising positronic matrix. Recalibrating neural pathways. Biofunctions coming online," Data said aloud.
Tasha felt like she couldn't breathe.
She had no idea if this process was painful for Data. He grimaced and Tasha feared that it was unpleasant.
"Regulating biofunctions. Coolant processing restarted. Sensory information coming online."
Data sat up. His fingers were still firmly clenched around Tasha's poor hand. Beverly came running out of her office. She stopped at the foot of Data's bed and waited.
Data appeared to scan the room.
"Detecting. Detecting. Detecting," he repeated.
Then Data's entire body went slack. He fell back onto the bed. His fingers loosened around Tasha's hand and dropped.
Tasha felt like she'd been punched in the gut.
"Data?" she asked tentatively.
Tasha watched in horror as Data's body remained unmoving.
16:45 | USS Enterprise | Bridge
"Things are getting worse," Varley warned.
The Yamato had suffered a sharp decline in functionality since first dispatching an SOS to the Enterprise.
"I don't even know how many people are left alive on my ship. My First Officer's dead, Jean-Luc," Varley went on.
Varley was calm. But Jean-Luc could tell just how bothered his old friend was by the prospect of losing anyone under his command.
"We're prepared to start beaming survivors aboard," Jean-Luc answered.
"The Thomas Paine is as well," Rixx added from his bridge.
It wouldn't take long with both ships.
"Prioritise the pockets of survivors on the residential decks," Varley warned.
It was where most of the civilians and families were located.
"Lieutenant, please relay those orders to the Transporter room," Picard ordered.
"Aye, sir."
Worf tapped his console to pass along the Captain's orders.
"We're beaming the first groups out now," Picard said.
Picard got up from his seat and strolled behind the Operations console. He could see the green light flash on the terminal, signalling the first transport had been a success.
It would take approximately eighteen minutes to beam out all of the survivors.
Jean-Luc used the downtime to ask a burning question.
"Donald, when we received your earlier message, you mentioned something important about the Corsica," Picard began.
The Corsica was the Yamato's Captain's yacht.
"The message cut out before we could finish your statement. We initially theorised you had dispatched the ship to get help. But when we did not encounter it—"
Picard trailed off.
He was concerned the Corsica had been stolen by rogue actors — either frightened crew desperate for escape or possibly even Romulan agents.
"It is imperative that we find the Corsica," Varley said.
He opened his mouth to explain but was cut off by an urgent warning from the Thomas Paine.
"Captain, shields on the Yamato are going up," Rixx said, confused.
Varley whipped around.
"Get those shields down!" Varley barked.
With the shields in place, there was no way to beam out survivors. With a Romulan ship closing fast, every minute counted.
The Operations Chief on the Yamato worked furiously to try and override the computer.
"I don't know, sir. It's like whatever's happening is trying to prevent us from escaping the ship," he said.
The Yamato crew couldn't access the shield controls.
"Warp core field integrity on the Yamato is failing," Worf reported.
Jean-Luc closed his eyes and took a breath.
He couldn't see Donald Varley. Their connection was over audio only. Jean-Luc figured that was the best. Because if he could have seen Donald Varley in that moment, if the two old friends had been able to lock eyes, Jean-Luc would have known that look.
It was the same one he shared with Jack Crusher in the final moment before his death.
With his last breath, Donald Varley tried to communicate the most important message he had to Jean-Luc.
"Find the Corsica," Varley urged.
The channel went dead.
"Captain? Donald?" Picard asked.
"There's an energy build-up in the Engineering sections," Worf announced. "The magnetic shields around the antimatter field are decaying."
The sensor readings were off the charts.
Captain Picard turned to ask Worf for more information. Worf glanced up from his console. His eyes went wide with fear.
Commander Riker didn't wait for the Captain's order.
"Shields up!" Riker commanded.
Jean-Luc turned back just in time to see the Yamato blow itself apart. There was an intense flash of light. The Enterprise shook as a large piece of debris impacted the shield.
The saucer section was flung to the right as it tore apart.
Captain Picard stumbled as a second chunk of the hull flew into the Enterprise.
16:52 | USS Enterprise | Sickbay
Beverly didn't know what to say.
She knew there were no words that could adequately provide comfort or reassurance to her friend.
Tasha hadn't taken her eyes off Data.
It appeared that the effort to reboot Data's system had failed. It wasn't able to overcome the damage from the accident in Engineering.
Beverly was powerless to help, and it would be hours — possibly days — before Geordi was in any condition to make an assessment.
All of a sudden, Data opened his eyes and sat up.
He surveyed the room. Geordi was lying next to him on a hospital cot. A quick scan confirmed that Geordi was breathing.
Data's internal chronometer came online. It was always disturbing to know he'd been unconscious.
Next, Data noticed Doctor Crusher standing at the foot of his own cot. She was stunned.
Data turned and met Tasha's eyes.
It was evident that she had been crying from the way her eyes were red and swollen. And Data could not help but feel a sense of role reversal in the fact that she was at his bedside, and that he was the one in Sickbay for a change.
Tasha tentatively reached up to tuck Data's hair back behind her ear. Her hand trembled.
Before Data could say a word, Tasha tackled him.
She clutched Data's shoulders. She was desperate to hold him as close as possible. It took Data a few seconds to process what had occurred before he relaxed into the embrace.
Tasha sat back just enough so as not to suffocate Data. She took hold of his hands and pulled them into her lap. Tasha took a shaky breath.
Their foreheads were pressed against each other.
"You're alive," she breathed.
For a moment, there was nothing but the two of them. They shut out everything else — the rest of the ship, the explosion of the Yamato, the Red Alert siren.
"You're alive," Tasha repeated.
Data nuzzled against Tasha's face.
"Data," she murmured.
He brought Tasha's hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss inside her wrist.
"We have to get to the Bridge," he said.
"I have something to tell you," Tasha announced.
"So do I," Data said.
Tasha squeezed Data's hand.
"Data—"
"We have to get to the Bridge," he repeated softly.
Tasha looked up at Data, wordlessly pleading for more time. She was relieved he was alright. They had a duty, but Tasha couldn't bear to part.
Nevertheless, their moment together would have to wait.
Another piece of debris from the Yamato hit the shield. The whole ship rocked.
"As soon as this is over, we're going to Føroyar. No more travel restrictions. No more delays. I'm going to marry you," Tasha declared.
Data captured her in a kiss that was all too short.
"I am going to marry you," Data said.
Tasha grinned. Data stroked his thumb across her cheek.
"Data? What were you going to tell me?"
He pressed his finger to her lips.
"It will keep," Data said with a smile.
Tasha was not satisfied with this answer.
"I will tell you on our way to Føroyar," Data promised.
"As soon as this is over?" Tasha asked.
"As soon as this mission is done," Data agreed.
16:57 | USS Enterprise | Bridge
The destruction of the Yamato momentarily left the Enterprise without sensor capabilities. All the debris caused too much interference.
It took several minutes for Worf to reestablish communications with the Thomas Paine.
The Bridge was a flurry of activity as the team worked to bring the sensors back online. Data's absence was more present than ever.
Deanna was left reeling from the sudden influx of shock, loss, and fear. She stumbled into the railing and squeezed her eyes shut to try and block out the collective overwhelming emotional trauma.
"How many survivors did we manage to beam aboard before the shield went up?" Picard asked.
"Forty-three," Riker grumbled.
A dark look passed between Riker and Picard.
There had been more than thirteen hundred people on the Yamato. Like the Enterprise, she was a mixed purpose vessel that carried Starfleet personnel, science teams, diplomats, civilians, and families.
Now most of them were gone.
And Varley hadn't even managed to explain why the Corsica was so important before his sudden demise.
It was like the Horatio all over again.
Things could not possibly get worse.
"Sir," Worf said.
Jean-Luc visibly grimaced. He braced himself for the next shoe that would drop.
"There's a Romulan ship dropping out of warp."