Author's Note: Thank you all for your ongoing support on this story!

Long chapter alert! I simply could not break this into four. I'm trying to be strict with myself about keeping to the outline in order to preserve the chapter count/plan.

A few notes:

The Conspiracy

You're probably thinking what?! I thought the conspiracy was about brain slugs!

And you would be right.

Our heroes have no idea what awaits them.

Jack Crusher

Between the various Trek media there are conflicting accounts of the details of Jack Crusher's death – which is why I decided to write my own.

(We don't go too far into the details here, but just know I'm not going with what's presented in the likes of the Stargazer series or the novelisation of Encounter At Farpoint or Reunion.)

Cameos

You will notice some particular names dropped in this chapter (hint hint).

These choices are intentional, and we will see a story arc focused on the team at G'kantal come out later in The Course We Set. It may seem like an odd team and I'm taking some liberties with their backstories.

But what can I say? I adore misfits.

"Mmmm," Tasha said as she nuzzled against Data.

He pulled the sheet up over to cover the both of them.

"I should get up," Tasha said.

Data rolled them together so that she was pinned beneath him.

"Not yet," Data said.

"Data, if I don't get out of bed then I won't be able to put in the request for our shore leave," Tasha reminded him.

She wanted to catch Captain Picard before it was too late in the day. It was always best to catch the Captain early.

Tasha giggled as Data nibbled her shoulder.

"Not yet," Data repeated. "In any case, I do not believe you want to leave. Not when you are so warm under these covers."

"I don't want to get up," Tasha explained.

Data stopped.

"If it were up to me, I would keep you like this always," Data said before he dove back in.

Tasha made a small noise of protest, clutching the bottom of her shirt as Data's hand made its way up under the hem.

"Don't start that or we'll be here all day," Tasha said.

"Mmmm, I do not have a problem with that," Data countered.

He pressed his lips against the spot just below her ear.

"I will bring you breakfast in bed," Data offered.

"Shall I brush my teeth in here too?" Tasha teased.

"If it bothers you I can kiss the rest of your body," Data said.

As much as she longed to stay in bed, Tasha knew it was time to get up. She didn't want anything spoiling their plans – not now that they had finally made the decision to take that leap together.

"Data, you do remember I'm asking for shore leave so we can get married, right?" Tasha said.

Data stopped.

For a few seconds, he said nothing as he stared down at her.

Data reached down to tuck her bangs back behind her ear.

Married.

Together.

"Then go," Data said as he hovered over her – teasing her by almost capturing her lips.

He took no small sense of satisfaction in the sharp intake of breath and obvious signs of arousal that were radiating from her body.

"And hurry back," Data whispered.

Tasha grinned.

She scrambled out of bed and Data let her go. Just before she was out of arm's reach – his hand shot out and closed around her forearm, pulling Tasha back against him.

"I love you," Data said against her hip.

"I love you too," Tasha replied, stroking his hair.

"And I do mean hurry back," Data said. "That is an order, Lieutenant."

Tasha yelped as Data brought his hand down to smack her backside.

"You are so in for it later, mister!" she called back as she rushed out of the room.

Geordi arrived at the lab precisely at 08:00 hours. He was looking forward to another day of productive work.

In spite of the disappointment at not spending their time on Relva VII with Sonya, Geordi was grateful they got the opportunity to get some real work done on their ever-expanding list of projects.

So he was surprised when he arrived and found Data already waiting for him.

"Data?" Geordi asked.

"Please come in and seal the door behind you," Data instructed. "I have a matter of importance I wish to discuss."

"Hold the door," Tasha called out, slipping onto the lift just as it closed.

For the better part of twenty minutes she'd been tracking the Captain.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Captain Picard said.

He had just completed his morning walk around the ship and was on his way to his Ready Room.

"Sir," Tasha nodded as she caught her breath.

She had quite literally run to catch the lift.

"I was hoping to catch you, sir," Tasha said.

"Oh?" Picard asked, quirking an eyebrow in her direction.

"Yes. I need to talk to you," Tasha explained.

"Well I've got a minute or two," Picard advised.

Tasha's heart sank.

"I fear it may take a bit longer than that," Tasha said.

"Walk with me," Picard said as he waved for her to follow.

Tasha followed the Captain off the lift, through the Bridge, and onto his Ready Room.

"Now then, what did you need to see me about?" Picard asked.

Tasha watched in surprise as he bustled about his Ready Room, grabbing his riding kit.

"Tasha, I don't wish to seem rude, but I am in rather a hurry," Picard said.

He had just one final day to enjoy the riding trails down on Relva VII and didn't want to miss out.

"I'd like your permission to take some leave," Tasha began. "I'll submit a formal request, of course. But I wanted to talk to you about it before sending that in. You see, given everything, well, I know the timing isn't great."

Jean-Luc stopped and turned back to her.

"No, it most certainly is not," he agreed.

He could see from the way she was picking at her fingernails that the request was urgent.

"This is rather important to you," Picard realised.

Tasha nodded.

"You could say that," Tasha said.

"Grab a kit and meet in the Transporter Room. Fifteen minutes," Picard ordered.

"Geordi," Data said.

Geordi did not answer.

"Geordi," Data repeated.

Data was exceedingly patient – but even he had limits.

"Geordi," Data said for a third time.

Geordi finally released him after a stifling three-minute embrace.

"I'm sorry," Geordi sniffled.

He detached his VISOR so he could wipe his eyes on the back of his sleeve.

"I'm just so happy," Geordi confessed.

He reached up to fan his face. Data had expected Geordi would be emotional at the news though he had underestimated how moved Geordi actually felt.

"We have to throw you a stag party before you go," Geordi said. "There's so much to plan and not a lot of time."

Geordi began to pace back and forth.

"I've got to get a cake and music. I'm sure Commander Riker will have some ideas and Miles has been to dozens of them," Geordi said, rambling on. "We're going to need games. Ooo! And those little shrimp things they had Lieutenant Yelchin's stag do."

Geordi stopped.

"Do you want fancy dress?" Geordi stopped and snapped his fingers. "The holodeck! Why didn't I think of that sooner. We could really do it proper. New Las Vegas. Risa. Monte Carlo. All in one night!"

"Geordi, you cannot tell anyone," Data advised.

Geordi froze.

"What do you mean I can't tell anyone?" Geordi asked. "I love you, buddy. But it's not much of a stag party if it's just you and me."

"Please, we do not wish to share this news until we return," Data explained.

Data and Tasha were in agreement in that respect. There was something terribly romantic and exhilarating about running off together to elope.

It was a promise, a secret between the two of them – for them alone.

The secrets we keep. Data mused.

Geordi exhaled and put his hands on his hips.

"Data, I can't very well throw you a stag party after you're hitched," Geordi said. "The whole point is one last wild night of freedom before, well, you know."

Data shrugged.

"It would seem rather a moot point," Data said. "Such a tradition stems from ancient Earth customs where it was viewed as the final night in a single man's life. But I am neither single nor from Earth."

Geordi frowned.

"It's not like I'm taking you to the Cherry Orchard on Risa," Geordi said.

It was a gentleman's club renowned for its offerings.

"In any case, you'd probably offer a history of dance. We'd be broke by the end of the night paying girls to listen to you talk," Geordi teased.

Data smirked.

"I have never needed to pay for it," Data said with a wry smile.

Precisely at 09:00, Data reported as ordered to Lieutenant Commander Remmick. On his way into the Observation Lounge, Data ran into Commander Riker who was on his way out.

Riker looked rattled.

"Sir?" Data prompted.

Riker simply replied with a small nod.

"Take a seat, Mr Data," Remmick ordered as soon as Data entered.

There was no time for pleasantries.

Data sat down at the end of the table and waited for Mr Remmick to begin.

"Your report," Remmick said.

Data cocked his head to the side, signalling he was awaiting further clarification.

"You said you needed time to review your memory engrams. I ordered you to report back today and this time. What is your report?" Remmick said in a rather terse voice.

"Yes, sir," Data replied simply.

Remmick looked up from his tablet.

"Well then?" Remmick prompted.

Data sat upright and rested his hands atop the smooth surface of the Observation Lounge's long, oversized table.

"You ordered me to analyse eighteen months of engrams focused on the list of suspects provided," Data recapped.

Data had anticipated that he would spend most of the hours of the night wrestling with the moral dilemma he faced.

He had observed unusual behaviour on Tasha's part. She had been so guarded with her tablet at times. And following the Romulan incident, there had been a night when she'd spoken with fear in her voice, pleading for physical reassurance and rambling about the cruelty of how short a human lifespan was.

So much has happened. So much could happen.

Tasha had seemed uncharacteristically frightened.

And with you, I feel like even forever wouldn't be enough time.

It had struck Data as odd – even more so looking back on that night.

But such memories were not evidence.

And Data felt that there was something more that outweighed all of that.

He was hesitant to call it love, though love was certainly an aspect of such a feeling. Data trusted Tasha implicitly. She had proven time and again that her loyalty was to a set of values that Data shared – integrity, egalitarianism, inclusion, and curiosity.

Everything that made Tasha who she was stood in stark contrast to Romulan values.

And knowing her as well as he did, Data could not envision Tasha ever willingly cooperating with the Romulans.

It was simply out of the question.

In the end, it had taken Data less than three minutes to determine how he would answer Remmick.

"And?" Remmick pressed.

"And I have observed no one engaging in behaviour that would put the Enterprise at risk," Data answered.

Data had chosen his words carefully. He did not lie, nor did he break his promise that he would never allow his relationship with Tasha to interfere with his duty to Starfleet.

Remmick eyed him carefully.

"That's it?" Remmick scoffed.

Data wordlessly indicated he wasn't sure what else Remmick was expecting.

"I asked you because your record indicates you have perfect memory recall, excellent observational skills, and are trained to identify such behaviours," Remmick said. "I must say I was rather expecting more."

It seemed Mr Remmick had been through Data's record and specifications several times. Based on his behaviour and the way he responded, Data surmised that Remmick saw him the same as most Starfleet brass – a tool.

So Data decided to lean into it.

"If you would rather, I could prepare a written report summarising my engrams. I could have it complete by the end of the week," Data offered. "I estimate it would be around forty-eight million words."

Data was counting on Remmick baulking at the idea.

And it was a gamble well played.

"No, that won't be necessary," Remmick replied.

It took all of Data's self-control to keep a neutral face.

"I'm glad you found me," Picard said. "I was meaning to speak with you today. This is far more pleasant than my office."

Tasha and Captain Picard had procured two horses from Equestrian Lab at the Relva VII base and were currently enjoying one of the trails in the large arboretum.

Tasha had to admire just how brilliant the facility was – it even had simulated weather that aided in watering the crops.

They had slowed to a walk as it began to drizzle.

"Sir?" Tasha prompted.

"All this business with Commander Remmick," Picard began.

He'd been authorised by Admiral Quinn to share some information with his crew – including Tasha.

"You were right," Picard said.

"Sir?" Tasha asked.

She didn't follow.

"There is Romulan deception at work from within Starfleet itself," Picard said.

Tasha blinked several times in stunned silence.

She desperately wanted to offer him the explanation she had come up with regarding the blood sample. But she was under orders from Commander Remmick not to discuss his questions with anyone – including Captain Picard himself.

"Lieutenant Commander Remmick and Admiral Quinn will meet with you later today as part of a Security briefing on the matter," Picard said.

They turned their horses north to head up near a manmade pond that featured some of the special orchids the team on Relva VII had cultivated.

Jean-Luc had been most keen to lay his eyes on them.

"I don't know what the coming weeks will bring," Picard said. "Or months for that matter."

They rode in silence for a few seconds. Tasha said nothing as Jean-Luc's comment hung in the air.

"I'll be counting on you," Picard said. "To keep our ship safe. And to keep me apprised."

He pulled on the reins to slow his pace as they approached the pond.

"I know that I ordered you off this. And I was wrong to do so," Picard confessed. "It seems your concerns were right. This goes deeper than either of us could imagine."

His words triggered a chill in Tasha, and she visibly shivered.

"As much as I wish this wasn't where we are – it is. And burying my head in the sand will not force the situation to go away," Picard acknowledged. "Though I loathe to admit it, it's time for me to confront this."

Jean-Luc squared his shoulders.

"I want you to find the spy or spies on our ship. And I want you to do it quietly," Picard said. "And once you've identified them, come to me. We may be able to use them."

Tasha nodded in agreement. There was knowledge in such power.

"Feed them false information or perhaps out the conspirators at the top," Picard mused.

"Aye, sir," Tasha agreed.

"It goes without saying, this stays out of the logs," Picard went on. "Strictly off the books. But it is a convenient time for us to resume my fencing training – under your tutelage of course."

"An uphill battle," Tasha quipped before quickly adding, "Sir."

Jean-Luc flashed her a rare smile.

"I don't say it often enough, but I'm grateful for your presence on my team," Picard said. "And your loyalty over the years."

"You have it, sir. Always," Tasha replied.

"Can I ask you a question?" Picard inquired.

Tasha nodded.

"I don't have any suspects off the top of my head, if that's what you're wondering," Tasha replied.

Jean-Luc chuckled.

"No, rather something of the opposite nature," Picard said.

Ever since Quinn's warning about how deep this conspiracy ran, Jean-Luc had mulled over the possibility that a day may come when he would be forced to rally against his superiors in Starfleet Command.

It was an unsettling notion.

And Jean-Luc had no desire to reach that point.

But if things did run wider and deeper than ever before, then it meant they went higher too.

"Tasha, if it came down to it," Picard began. "And Starfleet Command itself was compromised, who would you trust?"

"Our team, sir," Tasha replied without hesitation.

"I mean outside of the Enterprise," Picard said.

Tasha fell silent and she chewed on the question.

"Tasha, I'm asking for your advice because you've been in situations where you know what it means to be-"

"Captain Rixx," Tasha said. "Captain Lee Davies."

"Of Starbase 118?" Picard inquired.

"Aye, the same," Tasha said.

Tasha had served under Davies during her stint on the Dunkirk.

"Some of the team from G'kantal," Tasha added.

Years earlier, Tasha, Captain Picard, and Captain Rixx had been part of covert team sent in to liberate the Bajoran work camp at G'kantal.

It had been a joint mission with some of Captain Rixx's covert operations team with support help from Picard.

"Like who?" Picard asked.

As memory would have it, Jean-Luc recalled some of the team at G'kantal had been rather rough around the edges.

"Eddington," Tasha offered.

"Michael Eddington?" Picard asked to clarify.

Tasha nodded.

"I seem to recall he's rather… enthusiastic," Picard said.

"No need to be diplomatic around me, sir. He's a self-righteous bastard," Tasha said. "But I think that's why we can trust him. He's not the type of man that can be bought or persuaded. He's driven only by his values."

Jean-Luc certainly couldn't argue with that assessment.

"Delphine Lisette," Tasha said.

Jean-Luc nodded in agreement.

"She was good. I believe she's on the Venture now," Picard said. "Second officer if I'm not mistaken."

"Lon Suder," Tasha added.

Jean-Luc frowned.

"He was never really the same after G'kantal, was he?" Picard asked.

"Were any of us?" Tasha asked in response. "In any case, I'd trust him with my life."

"Hmm," Picard agreed.

"Eibnar," Tasha said, rounding out her list.

Jean-Luc turned and eyed Tasha sceptically.

"I don't recall them from the mission," Picard confessed.

Tasha laughed to herself.

"Because he's a sleezy arms dealer that runs a salvage yard in the Forlat cluster," Tasha explained. "Not a thing he can't get you – for a price."

Jean-Luc's brow furrowed with concern.

"And you would trust this Eibnar?" Picard asked.

Tasha nodded.

"He's got one rule and one rule only. Hates Romulans with a burning passion," Tasha said. "He was a repair and salvage man on Forli before the Romulans annexed the planet."

Tasha had learned at an early age that most people were driven to crime by circumstance rather than choice.

"They took his family and offered him an arrangement. He ferried them Federation technology, scrapped engines from ships and the like, bits of information and they promised to return his wife and children," Tasha shared.

She dropped her head.

"Eleven years they kept him dangling," Tasha said.

"And did he find them?" Picard prompted, knowing the tale was headed for tragedy.

"They told him he could retrieve them and gave him a location," Tasha said. "He found only a grave. And an assassin waiting for him."

Eibnar escaped and had vowed he would exact his revenge someday.

"Of course this means that I'll need to restrict travel. Can't have our Romulan conspirators getting wise and running away – or risk having more come aboard," Picard explained. "I'm putting a hold on transfers and cancelling all shore leave for the time being."

"Yes, sir," Tasha said in a steady voice.

She was doing her best to keep her reaction in check lest her composure slip.

Tasha was exceptionally practical. Straightforward.

But when it came to matters like this, she had a tendency to fall back on the spiritual beliefs of her childhood.

It's just a temporary setback, not a sign. Tasha reminded herself.

"Now then, what was it that you wanted to ask?" Picard inquired.

Tasha just smiled and shook her head.

"Nothing, sir. The matter will keep," Tasha replied.

"I can't keep up," Mordock lamented.

There was panic in his voice.

"Two minutes remaining," the computer announced.

Mordock grumbled aloud in frustration.

"I can't do this," Mordock said.

"Yes you can!" Wesley said without tearing his eyes away from the screen. "Relax into it. Let it come by itself."

"It's too fast," Mordock said.

He felt completely overwhelmed as the images on the screen were moving too quickly.

Wesley glanced back over his shoulder and quickly assessed his situation.

"You've got your rotation factor. Just put in your vector coordinates. You can do this," Wesley encouraged.

"One minute remaining," the computer announced.

From his position as proctor, Officer Chang watched with curiosity as Wesley encouraged the other candidates.

"We've all got this," Wesley said. "Almost there! Let's finish strong."

"Time elapsed," the computer announced.

Wesley flopped back against his seat.

What a relief it's done. He thought.

"Thank you, everyone. You all did well," Officer Chang said. "You now have one free hour while we finalise your scores. I'll meet you all back here to announce the results then."

"Wesley, why did you help me?" Mordock asked. "We are so close in points. And it cost you time."

"Indeed, it was interesting choice," T'Shanik observed.

Wesley shrugged.

"It's what we do on the Enterprise," Wesley said. "We all do better when we all do better."

At 13:00 hours, Data and Commander Riker were summoned to Captain Picard's Ready Room for a briefing with Admiral Quinn and Lieutenant Commander Remmick.

The two exchanged a dark look as they stepped off the lift.

"After you," Riker said, ushering Data inside.

"Please, take a seat," Captain Picard said.

Jean-Luc was pleased that he could finally offer Commander Riker and Data some answers – but he couldn't shake feeling guilty about keeping them in the dark.

Such secrecy went against everything Jean-Luc stood for as a person, the very foundation on which he'd built his relationship with the crew.

Data and Riker both opted to sit on the sofa that sat along the wall.

"Do you boys like brandy?" Quinn asked as he offered them a drink.

Data eyed the drink with scepticism.

He knew such a practice had once been a common form of building social bonds among officers. But such a practice was now generally frowned upon – particularly in the middle of the day.

"No, thank you," Data responded.

Riker refused as well.

Drinking during a formal meeting, particularly one of such importance, was a bit too 'good old boys club' for Riker.

He had never much gone in for that sort of thing.

"I want to thank you both for your cooperation the last few days. I know this has been hard," Quinn acknowledged.

He paused to take a long sip of his brandy.

"Ah," he said, smacking his lips together in approval. "Now then, we're all here because of some rather nasty business. I'd just as soon leave it alone – but I fear we can't bury our heads in the sand on this one."

Riker exchanged a concerned look with Captain Picard.

"Earlier this year, Commander Remmick was approached by a concerned Starfleet officer who noticed a single unifying pattern between a number of seemingly unrelated oddities," Quinn explained. "Disappearances, discrepancies, disconnected orders at HQ."

"Admiral, what are you saying?" Riker asked.

Quinn nodded to Remmick as he wordlessly ordered him to begin his presentation. Remmick tapped the remote in his hand and the viewscreen along the wall lit up.

It was an image showing the chain of command among Starfleet's officers – down to the level of Captain.

Remmick clicked to zoom in on the image, focusing on a section that showed the higher-ranking officials and a list of ships and installations that were part of a programme known as 'McNamara.'

"McNamara is the official Starfleet Command designation for the ships, starbases, outposts, and installations that are part of our broader fleet focused on maintaining peace along the Romulan Neutral Zone," Remmick explained.

"Sixteen ships including the Thomas Paine, the Berlin, the Renegade, the Horatio, and of course your counterpart, the Yamato are all a part of this network," Quinn shared. "And at the heart of that is Starbase Yorktown."

It was one of the largest Starbase installations in the entire quadrant and served as a training facility, resupply dock, repair yard, and primary transportation hub for all activity along the Romulan Neutral Zone.

It was also a permanent home for many families that were stationed in ships and outposts along the Neutral Zone.

"On Stardate 41206.4 there was a meeting at Starfleet Command Headquarters," Quinn said. "I was present along with a number of other flag officers and Commander In Chief, Fleet Admiral Tahiil Ibrahim."

He paused.

"I want to be clear, at this time we do not believe Fleet Admiral Ibrahim has been compromised. Nor do we believe he is involved in any manner," Quinn said. "But we think his eagerness for peace makes him susceptible to the influence of those involved."

It had been a suspicion of Remmick's ever since the policy shift regarding the Romulans.

"That meeting on Stardate 41206.4 – that was the last one where I felt things were normal," Quinn said.

Admiral Quinn couldn't discuss the details of such a meeting. However, he shared that it went as expected.

"It was a typical meeting. We hold them quarterly," Quinn explained. "We parted ways and returned to our regular assignments."

He sat back in his seat and crossed his legs as he swirled his glass of brandy.

"That was the last time I saw Admiral Pettyfer," Quinn said. "He was en route to a conference on Risa and never returned. Shuttle accident."

Quinn stopped and shook his head.

"Admiral Pettyfer was replaced by this officer," Remmick said, tapping to go to the next slide in the presentation. "Commodore Aaron, now Fleet Admiral Aaron."

"Who had previously been responsible for overseeing activity along the Neutral Zone," Quinn explained.

"And in the subsequent months since, these are the individuals that have been reassigned and replaced," Remmick said.

He switched back to the chain of command chart. Roughly twenty percent of the command structure had been impacted by such reassignments.

"And these are the individuals that have mysteriously died or disappeared in that time," Remmick added.

He tapped his remote again, knocking a further fifteen percent off the chart.

All in all, over a third of the command structure under the McNamara designation had died, vanished, or been reassigned away from the Neutral Zone.

"Then the Federation announced a new policy shift. Peace overtures from the Romulans," Quinn scoffed. "And in response, Starfleet Command began scaling down our operation along the Neutral Zone."

Riker sat forward and scratched his chin.

"I'm sure the Romulans have an ulterior motive," Riker began. "But has there been anything to indicate this isn't some grand conspiracy for peace?"

"That is a fair question," Data chimed in. "The Romulan Star Empire has suffered from economic failure for decades. Swelling military budgets and failed attempts to regain territory against the Klingons and the Tholians have devastated the Empire. It is hardly capable of feeding its people."

Quinn nodded in agreement.

"Or that's what they want us to believe," Quinn suggested. "It's possible our assessment of the Romulan Empire is accurate, and they really may be starving. But I don't think that would stop them from pouring everything they do have into undermining our efforts."

Data raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

If there was one thing that drove Romulans – it was their desire to conquer all.

"So all these people are being sent away or killed?" Riker asked.

"Reassigned in some cases, replaced in others," Remmick said.

"Replaced?" Data asked. "As in the case of Admiral Aaron. Do you suspect these individuals are sympathetic to the Romulan cause?"

Quinn's expression darkened.

"Something rather more sinister I'm afraid," Quinn answered.

Data and Commander Riker listened intently as Remmick and Quinn explained their hypothesis. It was a still just working theory, but all available evidence seemed to point to Starfleet officers being replaced by Romulans through some sort of advanced medical technology.

"It's utterly baffled my team," Quinn shared. "We've used retinal scans and fingerprint ID for our top-level command meetings for years. Somehow, they're getting past it."

Riker frowned.

"And you are certain they're replacements?" Riker asked. "I'm sorry, but this all sounds like science fiction."

He was having a hard time accepting the idea of such a conspiracy.

"Long-time comrades bluffing their way through reunions, old friends barely able to recall basic memories," Quinn said.

"That's why you asked me all those questions about my time on the Hood," Riker realised. "You were testing my memory."

Remmick nodded.

"I apologise. We had to be thorough," Remmick explained.

Because of their positions and First and Second Officer, Picard had insisted they be notified. They weren't given the full rundown (Jean-Luc suspected even he'd been kept in the dark on some aspects of the conspiracy) but he wanted his team in the loop.

Admiral Quinn and Commander Remmick still weren't entirely sure how many ships were impacted. They were still working to identify allies – officers in leadership positions that had not yet been compromised and could be trusted if things came to it.

"What comes next?" Data inquired.

"We're still working to identify the rest of the ships and starbases involved," Quinn said. "It's not easy balancing the need to keep this secret against the workload involved."

Quinn and Remmick had been on the road for some time, trekking across the quadrant and hopping from ship to ship.

"Number One, Data, I'm relying on the two of you," Picard said. "There will be a briefing of sorts for the rest of the senior staff. Lieutenant Yar and Counsellor Troi will be briefed separately and receive a little more information as is necessary for their roles."

He paused.

Jean-Luc was still wrestling with his conflicted feelings on the matter.

"But this is need to know," Picard said.

Commander Riker, Remmick, and Quinn all left for the Observation Lounge to set up for their next briefing.

Captain Picard requested Data remain behind.

"Sir?" Data prompted.

"Data, I have no right to ask this of you," Picard began. "But the very future of Starfleet may fall on your shoulders."

Data cocked his head to the side.

"You are truly the only one of us that could not be replaced by a Romulan spy," Picard explained. "There may come a time when you need to assume command. If you think it's time, if you think we've reached that point-"

He paused.

"Don't hesitate," Picard warned.

On his way out of the Captain's Ready Room, Data ran into Tasha coming off the lift.

"How did it go?" Data asked quietly. "With Captain Picard."

Tasha had just been summoned to meet with Remmick. It was neither the time nor place to talk to Data about her meeting with Captain Picard.

She didn't have it in her to break his heart just yet.

"We'll talk later," she said, flashing him a grin.

She may not have been able to give him the romantic elopement, but she could give him a gentle let down later and hope for a little while longer.

"Tonight," Tasha promised, giving his arm a quick squeeze of reassurance before heading into the meeting.

When Tasha stepped onto the Observation Lounge she was immediately filled with a sense of dread. She had been surprised Data had followed her inside.

She wasn't just meeting with Remmick.

Remmick was there.

But so were Data, Commander Riker, Captain Picard, and Admiral Quinn – all seated around the table like some sort of inquisition.

As she took her seat, Tasha was certain she was done for.

Captain Picard had advised there was going to be a briefing. He'd shared a few details confirming the conspiracy Tasha had feared.

But Tasha couldn't help but feel that she was the one under investigation – the way they were all staring at her, the dark look on Riker's face.

"Thank you for coming so promptly, Lieutenant," Admiral Quinn said. "I understand you had quite a conversation with Lieutenant Commander Remmick yesterday."

Tasha kept her response neutral.

She glanced down at the hands in her lap.

"Sir, I'd like to say something before," Tasha began, her voice quivering. "I-I need to say this."

She lifted her chin.

"I don't know how or why the DNA from that virus came from me. I won't pretend to understand how a virus can be engineered or what a telomere is or why it matters," Tasha said.

She clenched her fist in her lap.

"But I can tell you I never willingly gave any cooperation to anyone conspiring against Starfleet," Tasha asserted.

Tasha had thought long and hard about the matter and all roads had led her to one conclusion.

"I don't know what you know about me or where I came from. And there are a great number of things that you won't find in a Starfleet personnel record."

Captain Picard was about to silence Tasha when Admiral Quinn ordered him to let her proceed. There were still unanswered questions about just how the Romulans managed to obtain a blood sample from Lieutenant Yar and why it appeared to be evidence she'd travelled through time.

"Before I escaped Turkana, there was a period of my life where I was," Tasha paused.

She closed her eyes and prayed for the strength to say her peace.

"Tasha, you do not need to-"

"I want to hear this," Quinn insisted. "I want to know what you have to say."

Riker was on the edge of his seat. Their briefing in Captain Picard's Ready Room had included no information about Tasha, DNA evidence, or any connection between that and the Romulans.

But Data had an inkling that he knew precisely what Tasha was referring to – and it was an unsettling notion.

Months earlier, they had all been led to believe the DNA evidence found pertaining to the Romulan contagion was simply a ruse by Captain Picard.

It had been a successful ploy the first time.

Surely they did not employ the same tactic twice? Data thought.

"There was a man, a weapons dealer on Turkana. He traded, dealt in all sorts of dark dealings – black market organ harvesting, mercenaries, equipment, human trafficking," Tasha said. "And he sold to anyone willing to pay, including the Romulans."

Tasha had learned to distrust Romulans long before her days in Starfleet.

"You were a prisoner?" Admiral Quinn inquired.

A part of Tasha wanted to laugh bitterly. Prisoners were treated better than Yars. But she knew it wasn't the time or place to go into detail about the finer points of the Turkanan caste system.

Instead, she opted for the easiest answer – the one that wouldn't bring about uncomfortable questions.

"Yes," Tasha replied.

For a brief second, she met Data's eyes and a look of understanding passed between them.

"And yet you sit before us," Remmick said. "Are you saying you were a Romulan captive at-"

"No," Tasha said, cutting him off before he could finish his questions.

"But you said this arms dealer sold-" Admiral Quinn began to ask, trailing off as he waved his hand to indicate he expected an explanation.

"People. Yes. Shock troops. Farm labour. Medical testing. Mostly people that owed him debts or were too weak to be of any value in his own labour force," Tasha said.

"But not you?" Quinn pressed.

Data watched as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"No," Tasha answered.

Turgon didn't sell young Yars – at least not to the Romulans. Tasha's torment had also been her saving grace, sparing her from winding up dead at the hands of some mercenary or as one more life claimed in the name of testing the latest chemical weapon.

"But they took blood from us," Tasha shared.

She had always assumed it was simply to test if they were healthy, she'd never imagined a more sinister purpose.

However, upon reflection it only made sense that such DNA may prove useful for all sorts of genetic experiments and testing.

"I thought they were checking, testing to make sure we were sick," Tasha said.

A healthy, disease-free Yar was a hot commodity in the right circles.

Those that fell ill were libel to be reassigned, sold off, or quite literally chopped into bits for medical experiments or their value for organ parts.

Tasha could vividly recall when a particularly virulent flu swept through one winter. The ones that fell too ill to survive long had been thrown into a sealed room so man they called 'the sawbones' could study their reaction to a gas he'd developed for use as a weapon.

"I think that's where this DNA came from. I think that's how it wound up in the hands of the Romulans," Tasha said.

Admiral Quinn was satisfied to leave it at that, and he requested they move on with the briefing.

But for the rest of the time, Data could see that Tasha was picking at her fingernails under the table, a tell-tale sign of just how on edge she felt.

Following Tasha's briefing, there was a meeting with the rest of the senior officers.

The senior staff was not being informed of all the details – only a basic overview.

There was a suspected Romulan conspiracy.

Travel was being restricted.

And they were to report anything suspicious and be on the lookout for anyone exhibiting odd behaviour.

Most important of all, they weren't to share that information with anyone.

Captain Picard had requested that Deanna, Commander Riker, and Data remain behind so they could run through a more detailed briefing with Deanna.

Given her empathic abilities, Picard was counting on her to be an important asset in protecting the Enterprise.

The rest of the team filed out onto the Bridge. There was a lot of uncertainty about what the coming days and weeks would look like, but the crew found some semblance of peace in knowing that the senior officers had all been cleared.

But like most things on the Enterprise, such peace did not last long.

"There's an unauthorised entry in main Shuttlebay," Ensign Jeffords reported from his position at Tactical.

In the months since turning against Ensign Walsh and his other former friends, Jeffords had proven himself a capable officer and keen to advance.

Tasha had recently started working him into the Bridge rotation to gain more experience.

"Unauthorised?" Lieutenant Hawk asked.

With Picard running about dealing with Remmick's investigation, Hawk was temporarily manning the Command Chair.

The senior officers were supposed to be on leave, but they couldn't just sit back – especially knowing there was a Romulan conspiracy out there.

Without a moment's hesitation they all rushed to their usual spots.

"Tasha?" Picard prompted.

"Computer reads the ID number of Jake Kurland," Tasha reported.

Remmick and Riker exchanged a dark glance. He was wordlessly requesting information on this Kurland.

"He's a student," Riker said. "He's been part of our programme with the school where we allow some older students to log hours gaining practical experience working on the ship."

Jake and the other students didn't have nearly the access Wesley did. They got around five hours of work a week where they shadowed other officers in a variety of tasks.

Most recently, Jake had been under Riker's tutelage.

"Mr Kurland, this is Lieutenant Yar. Respond," Tasha said, attempting to get his attention.

There was no response.

"Isn't the area secured?" Remmick demanded.

"He's heading for a shuttle," Lieutenant Jae advised from the helm.

"Shut it down," Picard ordered.

Tasha and Worf shared a nod. She rushed off. She waved for Jeffords to follow her as she paged for a Security team to meet her at the shuttle bay.

"I am locking off the launch bay doors," Data advised.

"Too late. He has activated the emergency flight control override," Worf reported.

"Smart kid," Geordi remarked.

Jean-Luc marched down the ramp and barked for the team to pull the shuttle up on the viewscreen. Behind the helm of the craft, they saw one determined young man.

"Open a channel," Picard said. "Enterprise to shuttlecraft. Mr Kurland, this is Captain Picard."

They could see Jake knew he'd been caught.

"Captain, I'm going to Beltane Nine to sign onto a freighter. Tell me father, I'm sorry," Jake said.

Picard could empathise with the boy.

Jake was a bright young mind and had been eagerly looking forward to following in his father's footsteps.

"You will him yourself in person. Bring the ship back," Picard instructed.

"No," Jake said. "I can't do that, sir. I'm sorry. I know he's ashamed of me for failing to get into the Academy. I have to do this."

He couldn't face his father. Since the time he was old enough to walk, all Jake's father had talked about was his son joining Starfleet.

All of a sudden, an alarm began to blare on the shuttle.

Jake panicked. He eyed the sensors on the console with alarm and began tapping ever more fervently in an attempt to stabilise the shuttle.

"Jake?" Picard prompted.

Geordi grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Captain, he's unbalanced the dilithium reaction," Geordi said.

He knew precisely what that sound was – and what it meant for the shuttle.

"I think Mr Kurland has failed to compensate for the burst of energy necessary to break through our attempt to stop him," Geordi explained. "He punched the gas and forgot to tell the shuttle he didn't need it anymore when he slowed to impulse."

"I've lost all power," Jake said.

Geordi approached the Captain. He didn't want to announce anything too loud and scare Jake.

"At this trajectory, the gravity of Relva VII is going to pull him into the atmosphere. He'll burn up," Geordi whispered.

"Entry in seventy-eight seconds," Data said, anticipating the Captain's next question.

"Options?" Picard asked.

It was one thing his team was good at. They were never shy when it came to options.

Worf growled from his position at Tactical.

"Tractor beam is not possible," Worf said. "The shuttle is too far out for a positive lock."

"He's out of transporter range," Data said.

"He's got manoeuvring thrusters," Riker suggested.

"I'm going to die," Jake said.

Jean-Luc cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders.

"Stay calm, Mr Kurland. We'll have you home in time for supper," Picard said. "Now you're going to do exactly what I tell you."

When he stepped off the shuttlecraft, Jake felt utterly embarrassed.

Lieutenant Yar was waiting for him. She'd sent the rest of her team back to their duties.

"I guess it's the Brig," Jake said, assuming he was being charged for taking the shuttle without authorisation.

"No," Tasha shook her head. "I don't think the Captain is going to send you to the Brig."

Jake frowned.

"Look, don't punish my dad. I did this," Jake pleaded. "Please don't reassign him because of my mistake."

"Nobody is being reassigned," Tasha assured him.

She motioned for the door.

"I'm going to take you up to the Bridge where you'll have a conversation with Captain Picard," Tasha explained. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Jake replied. "It doesn't even feel reel."

"Almost dying can seem like that," Tasha acknowledged.

Jake had never been on the Bridge before.

It was a bitter reminder that he would probably never get to work on one now.

He kept his head low as he took a seat in the Captain's Ready Room.

"Tea?" Picard asked as he swept into the room.

Jake frowned and looked up.

"Tea?" Picard repeated.

Jake eyed this offer with scepticism.

"I always find a strong cuppa soothes the nerves. Especially after a terrifying incident," Picard said.

He didn't wait for Jake to answer. Jean-Luc simply poured him a cup anyways.

Jean-Luc didn't shout or berate him. He merely slipped into the seat behind his desk and took a slow sip from his saucer.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Jake demanded. "Just punish me already so I can get this over with and start planning for a new future now that I've ruined my chances of ever being in Starfleet."

Jean-Luc quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I was so stupid," Jake groaned. "I should have just let the shuttle crash."

"I don't think you really believe that," Picard said. "And I think right now you're feeling embarrassed. But that will pass."

Jake was confused by the Captain's composed response.

"I ruined everything. I stole a shuttle. And I couldn't even do that right!" Jake scoffed. "You lot had to step in and save me."

"You saved yourself," Picard said.

For a moment, they sat in silence.

"You saved yourself because you remained calm and followed direction," Picard said. "I've seen officers with far more training panic under pressure. You did not. That's worth noting."

Jean-Luc wasn't simply being nice.

He truly had been impressed with Jake's ability to stay cool under the circumstances.

"And something like this doesn't prohibit one from entering Starfleet," Picard said.

Jake looked up, a small sense of hope evident in his expression.

"You mean it?" Jake asked.

Jean-Luc nodded.

"Of course," Picard said. "Serving in Starfleet doesn't mean being perfect. Being a good officer is about always learning, growing. Waking up and trying to the best you can – and knowing that you will make mistakes."

Jean-Luc had certainly made plenty of his own.

"It's not our mistakes that define us, it's how we choose to respond," Picard said. "Now you will have to make reparations for taking the shuttle. Commander Riker will work out a schedule for you to put in some hours assisting with maintenance duties. And you'll need to sit another training session on shuttlecraft safety."

Jean-Luc paused.

"And your father may decide on some additional punishment," Picard acknowledged. "But your performance was very impressive today, Mr Kurland."

Unfortunately, Data had to wait until after the briefing with Counsellor Troi before he could talk with Tasha alone.

It was nearly 16:00 hours before he could get a moment alone with Tasha.

When he found her, she was just gearing up to head to the holodeck for a run. She was presently knelt down on the floor as she put on her shoes.

"You are going to run," Data observed.

"Yeah. I'll be back later," Tasha said as she laced up her running shoes.

"Do you wish for company?" Data offered.

Tasha stopped and glanced up at him. To Data's surprise, she smiled.

"You always beat me," Tasha said. "And right now, I just want to run."

It was her way of saying she wanted to be alone. Data understood and had no desire to push her.

"How did things go with Captain Picard?" Data asked in reference to her conversation with the Captain regarding shore leave.

"Great. We'll chat when I get back," Tasha said.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and was then out the door.

As soon as he was alone, Data made a beeline for the workstation in his personal quarters.

His fingers practically danced across the screen as he pulled up tourist information for Føroyar.

Data was fascinated by the sea stacks and tall cliffs that local avian fauna used for nesting. It would be only too easy to take a boat out for the afternoon and tour the coastline.

There were breath-taking fjords cut into the steep cliffs. Cold, deepwater coral reefs featured rich fishing grounds full of marine life.

There were a number of smaller, charming fishing villages outside of the main colony – and they were welcoming to visitors.

Between the natural landmarks, historic sites, and geological excursions available, Data knew that he could get lost in a place like Føroyar.

Data was rapidly flipping through information pages and images at a rate faster than any human.

All of a sudden, he stopped.

There was a small intake of breath as his lips slightly parted.

"Computer, where is the location of this image?" Data asked.

"Location is Skýr Point, Stjarna Highlands, Eilean Èisdeal Province, Føroyar," the computer responded. "Located in the northern hemisphere, Skýr Point is located two hundred and twenty-seven kilometres north of Stjörnuljós Village, the northernmost populated point on the planet."

Remote. Data thought.

"It is considered to be one of the best locations for viewing the aurorae found on Føroyar," the computer went on.

Data tuned all of it out as he studied a series of images from the area.

It was far from the civilised world – literally the edge of the earth for a planet like Føroyar. There was nothing north of that point save for miles of ice.

Skýr Point was a tall, rocky point that jutted out from the coast and overlooked the ocean. A small, cold stream fell from the edge of the cliff into the dark, churning waters below as it carried water that had come down from the rocky highlands that lined the area.

Not far from the cliff sat a lone yew tree, like a lonely guard at his post on the edge of the world.

It was perfect.

Data had never felt more certain of anything – that was the spot where he wanted to make the Ceangal Azurdorcha or 'dark bond.'

It was Turkanan tradition, the act of making a commitment to one another and then sealing that promise by making love under the moonlight.

Data understood it was important to Tasha and he was keen to honour the tradition of her people. Turkanans believed that because the moon was constant, such a promise meant that their love would remain forever.

They could finish the formal ceremony with Geordi as a witness before he shuttled back to the Enterprise.

Then they could stay and camp right there under the stars – just the two of them. Alone.

Data smiled to himself as Tasha's words echoed in his mind.

I want to lose myself in the moonlight with you.

Data sat back in his seat and sighed.

"And now you will," Data promised aloud.

Suddenly, Data sat upright.

He had work to do before the end of Tasha's run.

Thirty-eight minutes later, Data was standing in the middle of Tasha's quarters. He surveyed the room and nodded, satisfied with his work.

He estimated Tasha would be back in fifteen to twenty minutes or so.

There was just one last thing to see to.

Data was just about to head for Ten Forward when the door chimed.

"Captain?" Data said, surprised by Captain Picard's appearance at the door.

"I was looking for Lieutenant Yar," Picard said.

"She is on the holodeck at the moment," Data advised. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"No, thank you," Picard said.

Tasha had been intending to ask him something earlier – something that was obviously a matter of great importance.

"I just wanted to follow up with her from a discussion we had earlier," Picard said.

Data's face lit up.

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Data said.

Jean-Luc was shocked as Data gripped his hand and shook it vigorously.

"I cannot thank you enough for allowing our plan to proceed, especially given the circumstances. We are both very grateful," Data said.

Picard blinked in surprise.

He had no clue what plan Data was referencing.

"I am sure she expressed her thanks and our desire to keep our elopement a secret until we return," Data said. "We do feel bad about springing such a thing on you at a time like this, but we have decided that life is too uncertain to wait."

Jean-Luc was stunned.

Tasha's words from earlier now made sense.

The matter will keep.

Jean-Luc's heart sank as he eyed Data.

Data and Tasha were two people that had always placed duty above themselves. And now that they had finally made the decision to pursue something strictly for their own happiness, they were prevented from doing so.

And for a couple that had been through so much, it felt unjust.

Captain Picard had no desire to be the reason for the latest setback in their relationship.

But that was his duty.

"Data, I'm sorry," Picard said.

Data immediately realised why Tasha had been keen to push the conversation off until later.

"Tasha did not ask your permission for shore leave, did she?" Data inquired in a knowing voice.

Picard didn't answer.

"I see," Data said before quickly recovering. "No matter, we will wait."

"Data, I am so sorry," Picard apologised. "I gave her quite a lecture about the need to carefully monitor all traffic coming and going from the Enterprise because of this Romulan business. Temporary hold on transfers. No shore leave."

Picard paused as his shoulders slumped.

"I fear I may have scared her off from asking," Picard confessed. "Regardless, I would not be in a position to approve such a request in any case."

Data nodded in understanding.

"Data, I-"

"It is alright, sir," Data assured him. "We will simply wait. It does not change a thing."

Jean-Luc snapped his fingers together as he came up with a brilliant plan.

"Data, why not do it here? On the ship," Picard suggested. "I would be only too happy to perform the ceremony for two of my finest officers and dearest friends."

Picard was beaming.

"And I think we could all do with a bit of cheering up," Picard said. "A wedding would be a perfect moral boost for the crew."

Data dropped his gaze to the carpet.

"I appreciate your offer sir, but-" Data began before lifting his head with a coy grin. "I have already found the perfect spot and I intend to marry her there."

Jean-Luc gripped Data's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Well then, as soon as this Romulan business is settled, you name the place and I'll be sure we get our girl there on time," Picard said.

Wesley was sitting at the computer terminal that had been his home for the last three days as he watched the seconds tick by on the overhead clock.

T'Shanik was sitting perfectly still in her seat. Mordock had his hands folded across his stomach. There was an occasional noise from his breathing apparatus as it released a fresh puff.

Oliana was spinning back and forth in her chair, a nervous tic she had developed in childhood.

For some reason, Officer Chang's arrival only set them all further on edge.

"I want to say that I am proud of all of you. You have done a superb job and each of you would make a fine Starfleet officer," Chang began.

And he meant it.

"It is unfair that only one candidate from Relva will attend the Academy this year and it will be a loss should the rest of you not return to test again," Chang said. "Congratulations Mr Mordock, you will be the candidate."

Wesley felt relieved.

Mordock was stunned.

He looked from Chang to Wesley and back again.

"But, sir. I – that's not right. It shouldn't be me. Wesley lost points because he helped me. He shouldn't be punished," Mordock stammered.

Officer Chang smiled.

"I assure you he was not. Your test results were slightly higher. You won your position fair and square through your own hard work, Mr Mordock," Officer Chang assured him. "And I mean it when I say, you are all astounding prospective cadets. Please come back and test again."

Officer Change provided each of them with an isolinear chip of their results before leaving the four alone. He knew that for many, their first test class was the start of lifelong friendships.

"I am sorry," Mordock said, looking around the room.

It was a Benzite trait. They were so eager to please that it made them uncomfortable when they won – especially if it involved beating out others.

"Mordock!" Wesley said in a voice his mother often used. "You deserved this."

"Yeah," Oliana agreed. "Don't feel bad for being good at something. You worked your tail off to get here. You should be celebrating!"

"Congratulations," T'Shanik said. "You are a most worthy mind."

It was high praise from the stoic Vulcan.

"Well, personally, I hate losing. But I love celebrating," Oliana said. "Why don't we all head over to the lounge?"

"That would be acceptable," T'Shanik agreed.

"Are you coming?" Oliana called back.

Wesley looked around with surprise.

"Me?" Wesley asked.

He wasn't accustomed to being asked to join in with his peers in such activities. And the other three candidates were all a bit older than Wesley.

Oliana nodded.

"Who else would I be asking? Come on, wonderboy," she said, waving him over to join the rest of the group.

Wesley had felt a sense of relief ever since the news of the exam results were announced.

He wanted to go to Starfleet Academy and spread his wings, live in San Francisco, discover new hobbies, and find his own path.

Someday.

For now the Enterprise was home and Wesley had no desire to leave.

He had every intention of testing again in the future. But for the time being, Wesley was grateful that he got to serve with the best crew imaginable.

But as he stepped off the transporter pad and back onto the ship, he was gripped with a sense of dread.

He would have to break the news to his mother.

And Captain Picard.

To Wesley's dismay, he didn't have long to wait.

Jean-Luc was on the lift.

"Captain," Wesley said in shock.

"Mr Crusher," Picard said with a small nod.

To Wesley's surprise, they rode in silence. The Captain didn't even ask about the exams.

When the lift stopped, Wesley failed to get off.

"Wesley, I believe this is your deck," Picard prompted.

"Did Officer Chang talk to you?" Wesley asked.

Wesley presumed he had to. That was the only explanation for why the Captain hadn't asked about the results – he already knew.

But Picard shook his head.

"No, why would he? Did something happen?" Picard inquired.

Wesley frowned.

"Oh, I just figured you must have been informed of the results is all," Wesley said with a hint of despair.

"I have not been. Do you wish to talk about it?" Picard asked.

Wesley laughed bitterly.

"No," he confessed. "I failed, Captain. I'm not going to the Academy. I failed you. I failed my mum."

Picard scoffed.

"Ridiculous," Picard remarked.

"I failed, sir. And what's worse is that I feel glad I'm not leaving," Wesley admitted. "I should feel terrible. So many people wanted that shot."

"Wesley, did you try your best?" Picard asked.

"Yes!" Wes replied quickly. "When I said I was glad I'm not going, well, I didn't mean that I gave up. I did my best on the exams. And I was so close in points to the winner."

"And do you still wish to go to the Academy someday?" Picard inquired.

"Yes," Wesley insisted.

"Well then, when you are ready, you'll just have to test again," Picard said as he turned back to the front of the lift.

When you are ready.

"You're not mad, sir?" Wesley asked.

Jean-Luc chuckled.

"Mad that I'm not losing one of my best helmsmen? Mad that your mother will be much relieved?" Picard teased. "I'm only mad if you're upset you didn't get in."

Wesley relaxed.

"Wesley, you have to measure your successes and your failures within, not by anything I or anyone else might think," Picard shared. "And, if it helps you to know this, I failed the first time."

Jean-Luc's experience with young Mr Kurland had been a reminder that there was strength in showing his own faults. It was important for his crew to know that failure was a part of learning.

"You? You failed?" Wesley asked in astonishment.

"I did," Picard acknowledged. "And I spent some time studying. Learning who I was. And when I was ready, I went back and tried again."

Jean-Luc put his hand on Wesley's shoulder.

"And when you are ready, you will too," Picard said.

Wesley stepped inside the Crusher family quarters.

The lights were on and there was music playing softly on the stereo. Dinner was set for two and included Grandma Howard's hotpot and Wesley's favourite ginger biscuits.

"Hey," Beverly said brightly as she appeared at the door.

She could immediately sense something was wrong.

Beverly made a beeline for the door and pulled her son into a warm embrace.

"I am so proud of you," she said.

"I didn't get in," Wesley said, the sound slightly muffled due to his mother's strong grip.

"I am so proud of you," Beverly repeated.

Just great. Wesley thought.

His mum was obviously so excited it hadn't even phased her that he'd failed.

They broke apart as Wesley stepped back.

"I said I didn't get it in," Wesley clarified.

"And I said I am so proud of you," Beverly replied as she cupped his face.

"Mum, are you even-"

"Yes, I heard you. That doesn't change how I feel," Beverly said in a stern voice. "Come on, let's tuck in."

Dinner felt easy. Wesley talked a bit about the new people he'd met. He'd really hit it off with Mordock and was keen to stay in contact with Starfleet's newest cadet.

Oliana was planning to return to living with her aunt and studying. T'Shanik was headed back for Vulcan and would seek further educational opportunities there.

She reasoned that in time she would return to test again in hopes of joining Starfleet.

"You know it's not all bad," Beverly said. "I had to take a remedial course of helm controls my sophomore year. I was dreadful at them – spent too much time on the dance floor."

"Uh huh, sure," Wesley said. "I know you're just trying to make me feel better."

"No, no! Honest," Beverly said. "It was a good thing too because I met a rather handsome pilot."

Wesley rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Dad," Wesley said.

"No, but he was friends with your father," Beverly said with a grin.

When Tasha got back from her run, she found Data reading in the chair.

"Welcome home," he said.

Tasha smirked as she cooled the back of her neck with a towel.

"Hey," she said.

Data got up from his spot as Tasha slipped off her shoes.

"Come," he said, taking hold of her hand and guiding her toward the centre of the room.

"I'm in awful need of a shower," Tasha protested.

"Please," Data urged.

Tasha let him pull her to the centre of the room. Data instructed her to take a seat and relax.

"Honey, I am so gross right now," Tasha said.

But Data shushed her.

"Close your eyes," Data instructed.

Tasha closed her eyes and stretched her neck side to side as she sat pretzel style on the carpet. Data silently turned on the computer audio and the room filled with the sound of ocean waves as they crashed against heavy rocks.

Tasha sniffed at the air.

"Is that?" she began to ask.

"Shhh," Data instructed.

There was the smell of saltwater and fresh pine. The aromas of smoky peat mingled with lavender and moss.

Data had used the replicator to fashion a series of scented oils to help set the mood.

Suddenly, Tasha was keenly aware of Data's presence next to her.

"I want you to focus on the sound of the waves and the feel of being free as a bird," Data whispered.

He bit back a grin as he saw the hair on the back of her neck stand up as she shivered with anticipation.

"I want you to imagine this," Data began.

Tasha sat perfectly still. Data reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair back behind her ear.

"You and I, standing alone at the edge of the world," Data said. "Surrounded by miles of wilderness and under a blanket of the darkest, clearest night's sky that you can imagine."

Tasha smiled.

"It is so cold and clear, and the ocean is deep and dark that the stars are reflected on the surface," Data described. "In fact, when the moons come out, it looks as if it goes on forever."

He nuzzled his nose against her jawline as he took hold of her hands.

Data pressed a soft kiss there and then asked her to open her eyes.

Tasha looked up at the ceiling of her quarters and was blown away by the imagery. Data had used a small portable device to project the image of a night's sky onto the ceiling.

There was a beautiful aurora, its green hue dancing brilliantly across the holographic sky.

Tasha was mesmerised by it as she stared up at the ceiling.

Data grabbed his tablet and set it in Tasha's lap.

"This place is called Skýr Point," Data explained as he showed her the image on the screen.

It was the same one that had made his own breath stop – the one that showed the lone Yew tree and the waterfall over the cliff.

"It's lovely," Tasha said.

"It is on Føroyar," Data said.

They sat together on the floor as Tasha flipped through the images. It was heart-breaking to look at them knowing that their nuptials would have to wait.

"I could spend an eternity there," Tasha commented.

"I am going to take you to this spot and make a promise, under twin moons, to love you until the end of time," Data pledged.

Tasha's throat went tight.

She kicked herself for not telling Data earlier about her conversation with Captain Picard.

"I intend to lose myself in the moonlight with you," Data said against her ear.

"Data, I-"

"I know that all shore leave is cancelled for the moment," Data said. "I spoke with Captain Picard."

Tasha bit her lip and turned to Data.

"I didn't have the heart to break yours," Tasha confessed.

They shared a slow, tender kiss. When they broke apart, Data caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"It will happen. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after, but it will happen," Data promised. "You are worth waiting for."

The rest was left unsaid.

They had a duty to Starfleet. It was the promise they had both made.

Neither of them cared that their nuptials would have to wait. It didn't change their living arrangement or their day-to-day life – they loved one another. Married or not, those feelings didn't change.

They had given so much of themselves to Starfleet. Both Data and Tasha felt that it was important to do this for themselves in the way they wanted – even if it meant waiting.

Data kissed her forehead and then sat back, holding her hand.

"What do you say you take your shower while I procure dinner from Ten Forward?" Data suggested. "Then you and I can snuggle down together on the sofa and feed each other dumplings."

Tasha pulled him close, planting a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I love you," she said.

On his way out of Ten Forward, Data ran into Geordi and Sonya who were just heading in.

"I'll be along in a minute," Geordi said to Sonya.

Geordi spied the boxes of takeaway in Data's arms.

"Big night in, lots of planning?" Geordi asked with a knowing smile.

"We should talk about that," Data said in a low voice.

The two friends dipped away from the door and down an adjacent corridor.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to catch you. With all this news about shore leave being on hold, well, is your plan still going forward?" Geordi asked.

"Not at this time," Data answered. "We will look to renew such a plan in the future."

Geordi's face fell.

"Oh Data, I am so sorry," Geordi apologised.

"It is alright," Data assured him.

There was something in the way Data said it that made clear he truly felt that way. He wasn't just projecting confidence.

"I must say I am not disappointed," Data confessed. "We want to do this our own way in a time and place that we choose. It is important to both of us that we do this for ourselves."

For once, Data and Tasha were going to do something for themselves, for their relationship that wasn't dictated by stardates or regulations.

"This is worth waiting for – however long it takes," Data remarked.

Tasha had just climbed out of the shower and was towelling her hair when the door chimed.

Must be Wesley. She thought.

Tasha had a feeling he'd be dropping by to share the news of the exam results.

She was surprised to find Captain Picard.

"Oh, sir! Sorry," Tasha said.

She quickly tossed the towel into the lavvy and shut the door.

"No," Picard said. "I don't mean to disturb you."

He'd been struggling with guilt ever since his conversation with Data. Picard felt that he owed Tasha an explanation.

"I wanted to drop by and talk with you. I wanted to apologise," Picard said.

Tasha waved her hand to dismiss it.

"Don't even think about it, sir. I know the situation with Remmick, and everything was well out of your hands," Tasha said. "You were just trying to protect the team. I understand that."

"Your nuptials," Picard said.

Tasha paused.

"It's fine, sir. Really," Tasha assured him.

Picard's brow furrowed.

"You have always put your duty above yourself. In the time I have known Data, I have found that his selfless dedication would put the finest of Captains to shame," Picard said. "And it is my great honour to have you both serve under my command."

It was rare for Jean-Luc to offer such high praise.

"Now I've been thinking, I know you don't want your nuptials here on the ship. And I can't grant you shore leave. But maybe I can do something else?" Picard suggested. "You could both take some time off. You'd have to stay on the ship, but you would have the holodecks, the arboretum, and all the rest of the facilities at your disposal."

It was a generous offer.

"I could set aside some time for the two of you to have one of the holodecks to yourselves for a few days," Picard offered.

Tasha chuckled and shook her head.

"Thank you, but I really think that Data and I want to stick to our plan," Tasha replied. "It's important to us to do this our own way."

Jean-Luc nodded in understanding.

"Someone once told me that I would have to make a choice about what's important," Tasha went on. "And taking this step in a way that Data and I have chosen, in a way that's totally under our control for once. Well, that's important to us right now."

"Guinan usually has a way of knowing," Picard said.

Tasha's brow wrinkled as she studied the Captain.

"Sir, how did you know?" Tasha asked.

"You didn't think I brought her aboard just to improve the quality of our food offerings, did you?" Picard asked.

Tasha caught Captain Picard on his way out the door.

"Sir? Keep this under wraps. Please?" Tasha requested.

Jean-Luc nodded.

"The secrets we keep," he mused aloud.

It wasn't long before Data and Tasha were settled down next to one another on the sofa.

"Try this one," Tasha said.

She picked up one of the dumplings with her chopsticks and fed it into Data's mouth.

He kept his face neutral as he bit into the savoury treat. After a few seconds of chewing, his eyebrows shot up and he nodded with approval.

"I rather like it with the ginger," Data said. "But I think that I like the imitation pork better."

Tasha sat the box of dumplings down on the coffee table and reached for her box of noodles.

"Tasha, do you wish to talk about earlier?" Data inquired.

"Wha-?" she asked as she slurped up a mouthful of noodles.

"I mean your conversation on the Observation Lounge. Your imprisonment," Data prompted.

Tasha stopped eating.

To Data's surprise, she laughed.

"I wasn't a prisoner," Tasha said.

Data frowned.

"But you said-"

"I know. I just mean 'prisoner' is a pretty polite way of describing it," Tasha said.

Data observed that she was avoiding eye contact as she fidgeted with the top of her Raktajino.

"On several occasions you have mentioned a man called Turgon," Data said. "Was he the one responsible for your captivity?"

Tasha did not respond.

"Tasha, is he the one that-"

"That broke me?" Tasha asked. "That took away every shred of self-worth I had until I felt like a piece of cattle. Until I reached a point where numb was better than anything because convincing myself that I couldn't feel was the only way to survive?"

"You are not broken," Data said softly.

"It was a long time ago," Tasha said in a voice that indicated that was the end of the matter.

Data reached for her hand, offering her silent reassurance that he was there.

"You do not need to tell me," Data assured her. "But I want you to know I am sorry that it happened."

Tasha turned and met Data's eyes.

"It took me a long time to feel human again after that," Tasha shared. "And sometimes I feel like you're probably the only person that truly sees me."

Data knew what it meant to be treated like nothing, to be locked away and stripped of all your dignity until you forgot you ever were a person.

And he knew just how hard it was to try and rebuild after that, to find yourself again.

Just as Data understood Tasha's trauma, she knew what it felt like to be an outsider, to feel like an imposter, a stranger to yourself.

She could appreciate just how much work it was for Data to recognise his own personhood at times.

And together they had found they could love and be loved.

"Tomorrow is going to be an incredibly late day," Tasha said.

They were due to leave Relva VII and that meant a full day of departure procedures including inventory, scans, and crew check ins.

"Indeed," Data agreed.

Tasha bit back a grin as she eyed him like he was one of Guinan's dumplings.

"What?" Data asked just before she pounced.

Across the ship, they weren't the only couple attempting to get on with life.

Miles had been struggling to regain a sense of normalcy ever since their briefing.

"What is it?" Keiko asked.

Miles did not respond.

For close to ten minutes he'd been sitting at the table, staring at his coffee as his mind wandered.

"Miles?" Keiko asked as she sat down next to him.

He jumped when she reached for his hand.

"Miles, what is going on?" Keiko pressed. "Are you alright? You're freezing!"

His hands were cold and clammy.

Miles glanced over at Keiko. They had made promise to share everything, to be open and honest with one another in all aspects of their lives.

But Miles had knew he had orders.

He desperately wanted to share the information from their briefing with Keiko, to unload the burden that weighed him knowing there was a Romulan plot looming out there.

Keiko studied his face and was about to press the issue when Miles found his voice.

"Long day at the lab," Miles lied.

He didn't feel great about it, but he knew it was necessary. Not only would sharing such information violate his orders, Miles didn't want it to weigh on Keiko either.

The secrets we keep. He thought.

The next morning, Wesley was up walking the ship.

It was just before 06:00 hours. Sleep had evaded him as he'd tossed and turned all night.

In spite of Tasha's assurances and a heart-to-heart conversation with Guinan, Wesley was still struggling to come to terms with his psychological exam.

It had only been a simulation.

But it was a bitter reminder that life in Starfleet was filled with difficult choices – ones that often resulted in making a choice between saving many at the cost of others.

Sacrifice was a part of duty and one that Wesley knew all too well.

"I often find an early walk clears the mind," Picard said as he approached Wesley.

It was obvious the young Acting Ensign was deep in thought.

"Good morning, sir," Wesley replied in a faraway voice.

"Wesley, please tell me you aren't still thinking about the exams," Picard remarked.

"No," Wesley replied. "Well, yes. But not that I didn't get in."

A beat passed.

"I can't stop thinking about the psych exam," Wesley confessed.

From his conversation with Beverly, Jean-Luc had gathered enough to know the details of Wesley's evaluation – and just how close to home it hit.

"Captain, can I ask you a question?" Wesley inquired.

It was a question Jean-Luc had dreaded, but one he knew was inevitable.

"You were with my father when he died," Wesley said.

He turned to Captain Picard.

"He knew he was going to die," Wesley said.

Wes had read enough about the circumstances of Jack Crusher's demise to know that it was a terrible accident – and one that Jack knew would end with his death.

"What was he thinking? What was going through his mind when he knew he was going to die?" Wesley asked.

Jean-Luc took a breath to steady himself as he turned to the view window that lined the corridor.

"He told me there is no escaping duty," Jean-Luc began.

The memory of that moment had been burned in Jean-Luc's mind ever since the day it happened. Jack wasn't just speaking of his own unavoidable death – it had been a message to Jean-Luc to do what had to be done, permission to let it happen.

Across the ship, someone else was up early.

Someone that also felt there was no escaping duty.

Tasha booted up her tablet and opened the encrypted communications channel she had used to send messages with Captain Rixx.

Her fingers clicked away as she typed in a message she'd thought about all night.

I hope this letter finds you well. Tasha began.

She was sandwiched between the sofa and the coffee table, sitting on the floor as she typed. Tasha paused and took a shaky breath before finding the courage to continue.

Recently I shared a drink with a good friend. I was reminded that so many people can easily disregard the injustice that surrounds us because it doesn't impact them.

You and I have seen more than our fair share of it. And we've both invested considerable effort into fighting it.

But I've also been reminded that it is not my job to save the universe.

"The whole situation lasted minutes," Picard recalled. "But it felt like ages and somehow like time was moving all too fast at once."

Jean-Luc knew that feeling – he'd had far too many moments like that in his time.

"You know it's perfectly natural that you're replaying the events of your simulated evaluation in your mind," Picard said.

He'd replayed Jack Crusher's death countless times in the years since.

"You know he loved you very much," Picard said.

Wesley scowled as he eyed Captain Picard.

"Sir, I don't blame you for what happened. I did, for a long time. But I understand it wasn't your fault," Wesley said. "I'm not asking you to make me feel better, I'm asking you because I want to understand what he felt."

Wesley stopped and took a breath. His tone had been rather more harsh than intended.

"I'm sorry, sir," Wesley apologised. "I guess I just, I want to know if I understand what he went through better now. If, if maybe I can-"

Wesley trailed off.

Ever since his psych test, he couldn't shake the notion of some need to connect with his father, to understand every aspect of the man – including his final thoughts.

"I just want to know what he was thinking," Wesley confessed. "What was going through his mind."

Wesley had been so young when Jack died. He had memories of his father, but they were nothing compared to the relationship he shared with his mum.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't really know him at all," Wesley admitted.

I've found a home here. I've also found that I'm more than just my job. I have an identity that is more than just Starfleet.

And for once in my life, I find myself caring about my own safety on missions.

I have something to come back to, something to live for.

Tasha paused and reached for the ring that hung on the chain around her neck.

Someone. She thought.

And now I have to break a promise that I made to myself. When I fled Turkana, I told myself I would never run away from anything again.

But I am.

I am choosing to run away from this.

"I think we realised at the same time that he wasn't going to walk out of that one," Picard said. "There was this moment when we shared a look. He'd always had an ability to read a room better than anyone, to see things that others might miss."

Jean-Luc turned to Wesley.

"I see a lot of Jack in you in that respect – the way you can observe and analyse," Picard went on.

So much of him was Beverly. But there were traces of Jack that emerged from time to time.

"And then he turned to me and said, 'there is no escaping duty' and that was when I knew," Picard shared. "He knew he wasn't going home that night. That he would never see you or your mother again."

Jack was already injured, and someone had to remain behind.

As First Officer of the Stargazer, Jack Crusher knew it was his duty to get the rest of the team to safety.

"He said to look after them – meaning you and your mum," Picard continued. "And I asked if I should give you and your mother his love."

Jean-Luc paused to try and maintain his composure.

"He smiled at me," Picard said. "He smiled and said, 'she knows.' And that was the last time I saw your father alive."

"Because it was his duty," Wesley said.

"Because your father was a compassionate man, someone that wanted to do right by others," Picard said. "His sacrifice wasn't about duty or service. It was about something much deeper."

Jean-Luc had thought long and hard about such a thing since his days on the Stargazer.

"Sir?" Wesley prompted.

"Altruism, sacrifices like the one your father made are something the best of us feel fundamentally compelled to do," Picard concluded. "People like your father, the ones that are perhaps too good for this world."

I recognise this is selfish. But I need to make a choice about what is most important to me.

I'm done seeking answers to questions I'm not ready to confront.

While I will continue to carry out my duty to keep this ship safe and honour the commitment I made to Starfleet, that is where my obligation starts and ends.

Tasha didn't want to push any further. She had begged, pleaded with Data not to pursue his concerns about Romulan involvement after his hearing. And it was time for Tasha to follow her own advice.

She was done looking for trouble in the cracks and crevasses of Starfleet.

The shadows could keep it.

In a way, Tasha felt like she was running away from her duty. She was abandoning her responsibility. But Guinan was right – she had to make a choice.

I am focusing on myself. I've met someone. And we want to start a family. That is where I am turning all of my attention now.

This will be my last letter. I wish you all the best.

Be safe, T

For a brief moment, Tasha hesitated before she hit to transmit the message.

In a way, it felt cold to drop Rixx and all his efforts to identify the conspiracy like that.

But Tasha knew herself well enough to understand that if she kept digging she was going to come across something that would upend her life.

She didn't want to know the answers to how or why the Romulans had gotten hold of her DNA. It brought back too many memories of Turgon, and the very thought made her shudder.

Pulling from deep inside herself, Tasha tapped the screen and clicked to send the message.

It was done.

She set her tablet down on the coffee table and felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

But the feeling did not last.

No sooner had Tasha sent the message when there was a ding to indicate a new incoming message.

Tasha stared at the tablet for a good minute as she tried to decide whether to answer or not.

She tapped the screen and saw it was from Captain Rixx.

Tasha sat back and rested her head on the sofa.

As she stared at the ceiling, she thought back to the night before. She'd sat on that very same floor, staring at that same ceiling as Data had lit every available inch of it with stars.

Tasha reminded herself that was what she wanted.

And there would be no ceiling of stars unless she learned to prioritise her relationship. It was an internal struggle. She had to wrestle against her own curiosity, a facet of herself that had always been too powerful.

As she stared at the tablet, Tasha thought about all of the information stored on there. It held all the notes of her investigation into Admiral Quinn and Commander Remmick's movements over the last few months.

It was symbolic of the very part of herself that Tasha longed to be rid of.

The door to the bedroom slid open and Data emerged.

"You are up early," Data said.

"Just wanted to get an early start," Tasha said.

Or a late start on something I should have done long ago. She mused internally.

Toward the end of her shift, Tasha keyed in a command to backup all necessary files from her tablet to her work computer terminal.

"There's a discrepancy in one of the reports. I'm going to check it out," Tasha announced to Worf.

She got up from her desk with her tablet in tow.

"I won't be gone long," she promised.

As she rode the lift down to deck twenty-eight, Tasha felt like her tablet weighed three times as much as it did. She was itching to check the message from Rixx that had been burning in her inbox all day.

It was dangerous to leave such messages hanging about. But Tasha didn't have the heart to delete it – nor had she the courage to open it.

Tasha was afraid that in doing so, she would only open the door back to trouble.

So she had come up with a plan to check the messages in a place where there would be no going back, no chance to travel down that particular rabbit hole.

It took all of eighteen minutes to climb through the Jefferies tube until she reached the access point at section 39R.

Tasha sat just next to the drop point that led down a maintenance shaft to the reserve torpedo bay tubes. She had timed her arrival perfectly.

She had about fifteen minutes before there was a test fire on the nacelles.

Her tablet would be completely destroyed.

Tasha keyed in her access code and found there were two messages from Rixx.

It was obvious from the most recent one that it had been sent after her own outgoing message.

Happy for you. You deserve it.

Take care & be safe, - R

It was almost a relief to see those words from Captain Rixx. Tasha knew she was leaving him alone, but she had to do it. She felt better knowing Rixx didn't blame her for effectively abandoning him.

Out of curiosity, she opened the first message – the one that had been sent before Rixx had read her message.

By now you've spoken to IG.

Tasha realised that IG must have referred to 'Inspector General' as a way to identify Remmick without using his name.

I know you've got orders not to talk about this. And they probably didn't tell you everything. But I identified this problem and I'm taking the liberty to share with you everything I know.

I need someone as backup in case anything happens to me. And there's no one I trust more than you, T.

Attached is everything I have on this conspiracy. There's a backup I keep. Life's a ball.

Tasha reasoned this referred to a hardcopy isolinear chip backup file. She knew Rixx was an avid shinty player and kept a ball in his office.

She reasoned it must be hollow and currently serving as a hiding spot.

Time travel? Helluva trip. But suppose if anyone's going to go, it makes sense you would be the one.

You've got the ability to compartmentalise better than anyone I know. Probably the only person that can live with the weight of that and what it means.

It was the third time someone had referenced temporal mechanics as a possible explanation for the DNA evidence linking Tasha to the Romulan contagion.

She didn't want to believe it.

She had convinced herself that it had to be a sample taken from her time in captivity on Turkana.

There was something deep in the back of Tasha's mind that urged caution, but Tasha ignored it as she clicked to open the file.

Inside it contained a series of files that had been compiled. There were profiles on different officers, reports from ships, logs of ship movements and transfers, starbase annual reports, security bulletins, and more.

There was also a file labelled 'N. Yar.'

Guinan's warning echoed in her mind.

What I've learned is not to ask questions for answers I'm not prepared to handle.

But she couldn't resist. Tasha reminded herself that the test fire would happen any moment. She was going to destroy the tablet, and this would be her last chance to look.

One peek won't hurt. Tasha thought.

Tentatively, Tasha tapped the file twice.

She immediately regretted her choice to pursue information.

There were sub folders – including one labelled 'temporal evidence' and one named 'Romulus.' From the thumbnail, Tasha could see it contained images.

She opened the folder and gasped.

She was staring at a picture of herself.

On Romulus.

According to the stardate, the picture had been taken a year earlier on a date corresponding to their mission to relocate colonists in the Strnad system.

Tasha rapidly flipped through images taken via long-range monitor satellite.

How is this possible? She thought.

Had there been some accident? Some anomaly?

Or was it intentional? Tasha thought with alarm.

A dark thought crossed her mind – had Starfleet sent her there on purpose? Tasha had gone undercover before on all sorts of covert missions.

But time travel?

She stopped scrolling on an image that had been taken outdoors in the Romulan capital. Tasha recognised the gaudy, classical architecture of the Romulan Senate building in the background.

It was a still image of what appeared to be a military parade of sorts. Row upon row of troops were neatly parading by in front of the assembled crowd.

Probably all forced to cheer. Tasha thought.

Her eyes settled on herself - standing perfectly straight and dressed in a Romulan uniform as she watched the procession.

There was no doubt about it. It was her.

And she was standing at the right side of none other than General Morak Paliurus, Supreme Commander of the Fleet of the Romulan Star Empire.

Tasha dropped her tablet.

She clutched her hands against her chest to stop them from trembling. She felt sick to her stomach, her head was dizzy.

Tasha knew she was sitting dangerously close to the drop. On instinct, she flopped back against the floor of the Jefferies tube in order to avoid falling over the edge.

Her hand shot up and she punched the release valve that would send her tablet down and out of the ship and directly into the path of the nacelle.

She didn't want answers. Not anymore.

"These are the reports from the ship's stores, cargo bays three, five, and eight, and, eh," Tasha paused as she shuffled the tablets in her hand. "And that is the medical storage locker and hazardous waste."

Tasha set the final tablet down on the surface of Data's workstation.

"Oh," she gasped.

Tasha swiped her finger on the screen to pull another report.

"This is a requisition requiring the approval of the First or Second officer," Tasha explained.

Data frowned as he skimmed over the request.

"For a new personal PADD?" Data asked.

He glanced up at Tasha.

"What has happened to your device?" Data inquired.

"Broke," Tasha said simply.

Data's brow furrowed as he eyed Tasha with suspicion.

"Perhaps I can fix it," Data offered.

"No," Tasha answered. "I think it's a bit beyond repair at this point."

"I will be happy to take a look. Perhaps the damage is not nearly as bad as you believe," Data suggested.

Tasha bit her lip.

"Lieutenant?" Data inquired.

They were technically on duty and their meeting that afternoon was strictly in the sense of their respective roles as Second Officer and Security Chief. When they were on duty, Data and Tasha made a point of using their titles – especially when it involved a matter of delicacy like requisitions.

"No, I'm fairly certain it can't be saved," Tasha assured him.

What followed was several minutes of uncomfortable back and forth in which Data had pressed her for answers.

"I see," Data said.

He tapped the computer screen to power down his workstation. It took a full three seconds for everything to go down. The loud, steady hum that never seemed to cease fell silent as the screens went dark.

"Commander?" Tasha asked.

Data stood up. He gripped Tasha's bicep and guided her out of the main room and into the bedroom.

Unlike most of the other senior officers, Data's living quarters also served as the Second Officer's office space. During their initial planning for the allocation of space, no one had envisioned an android actually having the need for living space.

Most of the time Data didn't mind having his workstation close – it was awfully handy when inspiration struck.

Or when he wanted to be rather naughty and take advantage of having a joint living space/working office. It provided all the thrill of getting frisky in the office with none of the risk – an advantage Will Riker was more than little jealous of.

Data sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Tasha down with him.

"Right now I want to have a conversation with you as your partner, your lover – and not your commanding officer," Data explained.

Tasha remained perfectly still.

"What happened?" Data asked.

Tasha shrugged.

"I dropped it," she answered. "I wasn't going to crawl down after it – not into a torpedo tube."

Data took hold of Tasha's hand and pulled it into his lap.

"In all the time I have known you, Natasha Yar, I have noticed that you choose your words carefully," Data remarked. "More so than most humans."

Years of covert operations training enabled Tasha to keep her cool demeanour.

"For the duration of this conversation, you have not used the words such as accident, mistake, or mishap. Not once," Data observed.

"Like I said, dropped it," Tasha said.

Data did not so much as blink.

"Nor do I believe you feel remorse for dropping it," Data went on. "You have not once said that you regret such an act. And I believe that is because you intended to drop it."

Tasha remained silent and unmoving as she waited for Data to continue.

"What I would like to know is why," Data pressed.

"I can answer that honestly. Or I can protect you," Tasha replied.

Her lip began to quiver.

"But I can't do both," Tasha confessed. "And I won't lie to you."

Data had no idea how to respond.

He turned his attention to the wall as he mulled over this information. It was certainly odd behaviour – particularly given the recent revelation confirming a Romulan conspiracy.

Tasha reached for his face, turning him back toward her.

"Don't dwell on it," Tasha urged. "You and me. That's what matters now."

She ran her fingers back through Data's hair as she studied his face. Tasha needed to remind herself that what they shared was real.

Tasha needed to push away all the thoughts that had plagued her mind since seeing that file – anything to stop herself from thinking about the Romulans and things that had not come to pass.

She had certainly never travelled through time before and Tasha knew that could only mean it hadn't happened yet.

And that night, she didn't want to think about having to make that choice between duty and her happiness.

"You instructed me not to dwell," Data whispered against her ear. "Stop."

Data paused.

Tasha was crying.

"I'm sorry, I can't stop," she sobbed.

"It is alright," Data said as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. "I am not angry."

Tasha closed her eyes as she rested her forehead against Data's. She took hold of his hand and looped her fingers through his own.

"I know," she sniffled.

Tasha moved in to kiss his jawline, but Data pulled back.

"You are distraught," he said. "I do not believe now is the best time-"

"Data," Tasha said, cutting him off.

She found his line of sight, wordlessly pleading with him.

"Please," she said as she nuzzled against his face.

Data captured his lips with his own, conveying his support without words as they fell back onto the sheets together.

Later that night, Data was lying on his back. Tasha was snuggled down against his chest as Data stroked her spine.

He felt Tasha relax against him, but sleep did not come. Tasha had been filled with regret ever since opening that file.

A feeling had settled deep within her, she felt as if her position in the universe was precarious at best.

Data picked up her arm and brought her hand to his mouth, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"What do you think happens to people who travel through time?" Tasha asked out of the blue.

Data's eyebrows shot up.

"No one is certain," Data replied honestly.

Time travel was a dangerous concept and one that the Academy preached against. Officers were trained not to mess with it.

The Temporal Prime Directive was perhaps even more crucial than the Prime Directive itself.

There was no doubt about the existence of time travel. Starfleet had a Temporal Prime Directive for a reason. But such information was kept strictly confidential.

"What do you think happens?" Tasha pressed.

"I do not know," Data said. "There are many theories. It is an area of science that we know little about because all the available evidence is not open for discourse."

Data's neural net sparked to life. From time to time, Tasha would turn to Data with questions about scientific subjects, theories, or other areas where he had considerable expertise.

She relied on his knowledge to explain concepts and theories that just weren't her forte.

And Data was always excited at the opportunity to information dump – it was his language of love.

Tasha listened with a sense of ever-growing dread as she listened to Data ramble on about grandfather paradoxes and self-consistency principles, Krasnikov tubes, exotic matter, causation, and the Leibniz–Clarke correspondence.

"Now if we were to look at models of quantum field theory-"

"Data," Tasha said, interrupting him.

She clutched his shoulders.

"But what happens to people who travel through time?" Tasha asked with a sense of urgency.

"Tasha, I do not know," Data answered in earnest. "There are some theories that suggest nothing – provided one follows the Temporal Prime Directive and seeks to minimise their influence that they could travel without causing harm to themselves or others."

Data paused.

"There have been instances in which ships have encountered wormholes that result in time travel without incident. The USS Argonaut encountered such a wormhole in 2334. The ship travelled seventy-three minutes into the past. The ship and her crew were unharmed," Data recalled. "However, others have theorised that some disappearances could be the result of wormholes."

The reality of space travel meant there were ships that went missing every year.

"Gamp theorises that those who travel through time displace themselves," Data said. "It is a theory supported by the disappearance of the USS Dover. In 2301, she disappeared while on routine patrol. It was later revealed that another Starfleet vessel had encountered the USS Dover in 2287."

It was one of the few instances of theorised time travel available for public study.

"The Dover was not launched until 2299," Data explained. "And yet she somehow existed twelve years before her construction. In fact, it was the crew of the Enterprise-B."

"What do you mean 'displaced'?" Tasha asked.

"After the Enterprise-B made contact with the vessel, they tracked it and maintained contact for a few days. Then it disappeared," Data said.

"You mean it's gone?" Tasha pressed. "Maybe it travelled through time again."

"It is possible. The Dover has never been seen nor heard from again," Data said. "But Gamp's theory dictates they vanished."

His comment hung in the air until Tasha found her voice to ask one final question.

"Do you think it's painless?" Tasha asked in a small voice. "I mean when it happens?"

Data sat up, forcing Tasha to look at him. His expression was full of worry.

"These questions, they are because of your interview with Mr Remmick," Data realised. "The DNA that you spoke of earlier – it is the contagion ruse that Captain Picard employed previously."

Tasha's mouth went dry. She didn't answer.

"It was not a deception," Data realised aloud.

Tasha dropped her gaze, and her shoulders began to shake.

"No," she confessed.

Data sat up properly. He slipped two fingers under her chin.

"Tasha, your DNA being taken and sold to the Romulans is far more likely than time travel," Data said.

"Really?" Tasha asked.

Data responded with a look that made clear he was certain – it was the same look he gave Captain Picard and Commander Riker whenever they questioned his assessment of something on the Bridge.

There was a time when Tasha was the first to volunteer for high-risk missions, a time when she had been so numb inside that it was the only way she felt anything.

A time when she didn't care if she came back or not.

Tasha closed her eyes as a silent tear escaped. Data caught it with his thumb.

"Tasha, it is highly improbable that you would travel through time and even more implausible that the Romulans would have the technology or means to send a sample of your blood back," Data assured her. "There are far easier ways for them to obtain human DNA samples – including the purchase of such samples from black marketeers."

"You're right, of course you're right," Tasha said as she wiped her eyes on the back of her arm.

"Of course I am right," Data said with a smirk. "For all we know, this dating discrepancy, the telomeres, could simply be a part of whatever process was used to engineer the contagion."

Data cupped her face, holding her in place so that she could not avert her eyes.

"I want you to put this out of your mind," Data requested.

He pulled her tight against his body and buried his face against her neck.

"I want you to close your eyes and think about Føroyar. Think about the smell of the ocean and wind on the back of your neck," Data instructed as he described the scene. "There is a soft trickle from the stream of water that falls so splendid over the rocks, but it is nothing compared to the sound of the ocean below."

Tasha could almost feel it – relaxing under the big lone Yew tree with Data, no one for miles in any direction and nothing but a blanket of stars.

He pressed a slow, soft kiss to the spot just below her ear.

"I will take you there," Data said.

"Promise?" Tasha asked.

"I promise," Data answered.

"Oh I can assure you that you will cooperate, Captain," the Romulan Commander said.

Captain Blunt did his best to keep his reaction in check.

But the cool, unflappable demeanour of this Romulan Commander had him on edge. She was his captor. And she was vicious. Yet she spoke to him in a voice that was smooth and almost amused by the situation – soothing but unnerving.

"Are you relaxed?" she asked.

"Christopher Blunt, Captain. USS Dunderdale. Serial number SC-433-618," Blunt said.

It was the only thing he'd said on repeat ever since his capture.

Blunt had been returning from a training seminar when a Romulan warbird had appeared out of nowhere and captured his shuttle.

He fought the urge to shudder as the Romulan Commander traced the line of his jaw with her finger.

"Yes, I think you will do quite well," she said.

"Christopher Blunt, Captain. USS Dunderdale. Serial number SC-433-618," Blunt repeated.

He couldn't be sure how long he'd been a captive. The last thing he recalled after a firefight was waking up strapped to a table.

There was a bright overhead light that obstructed his gaze and Blunt recognised it was designed to throw him off balance.

The Romulan Commander leaned over him. She was holding a small glass containment canister. Blunt instinctively flinched as something hit the side, as if it were attempting to come at him.

The Romulan Commander laughed softly.

"Eagar little things, aren't they?" she asked.

Blunt did not respond.

He was too fixated on the creature, its six wriggling legs, and its enormous pincers.

"They don't take in everyone. We're still not exactly sure why," she shared.

She tapped the glass almost as if she were admiring a puppy.

"But I think you're going to take," the Commander predicted.

Captain Blunt had heard rumours of Centaurian slugs. Allegedly the Romulans had used them decades in order to extract information.

It was said that there was no way to resist the toxin they released into the body.

"It didn't work with Commander McKinney. Sipe was fine for a few hours before it killed him too," she said.

Blunt tried not to give her the satisfaction of a response. He knew she was taunting him.

"And Commodore Aaron wept like a child. Cried out for his mummy," she teased.

All of a sudden, the door flew open and another Romulan marched inside flanked by two foot soldiers.

"Stop toying with it and get on with the implantation," he ordered.

"Pity, I would have loved to have crushed your windpipe," she said as her fingers closed around Captain Blunt's throat.

"Sela," the Romulan man barked in a warning tone.

She scowled at him before releasing Captain Blunt's throat.

A moment later, Captain Blunt felt the table begin to shift. It rotated until he was lying face down – exposing his spine and neck.

"Are you ready?" she asked. "Comfortable?"

"Christopher Blunt, C-C-Captain. USS Dunderdale. S-Serial number SC-433-618," Blunt stammered.

He couldn't stop shaking.

"And I will n-not cooperate," he declared.

Somehow he knew they would be his final words and he was going to go out on his terms.

His Romulan captor leaned in close. Her breath was warm against his ear.

"You will. I promise," she whispered.

Captain Blunt gasped softly as he felt a sharp pain at the nape of his neck.