Author's Note: Onto part two…

I want to thank Lady_Lore for the idea of the 'Jolan tru' song.

We know from Redemption that Data was in Starfleet by 2341. That means he (Like Jean-Luc Picard) would have been an active officer serving in Starfleet in 2344 when the Enterprise-C went missing.

Please be advised this portion of the story is a dark turn. I want to assure you – this series has a happy ending. But this part is filled with pain and loss.

Content Warning: Strong language, violence, abuse, child abuse, sexual assault, torture, graphic injury, enucleation, pregnancy/childbirth, miscarriage, stillbirth, abortion, self-harm, suicide, character death, murder.

Romulus | 2348

Richard Castillo caught Tasha Yar's arm and pulled her into one of the alcoves in the corridor.

"Shhh," he said. "It's me."

Tasha immediately relaxed.

"Now?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"It has to be today. Now," Castillo replied.

General Morak was gone along with most of his staff. That mean the compound was undermanned and they could move about freely with less chance of being caught.

In addition, it was the first week of the month which meant General Morak's wife was gone to the capitol city along with the bulk of her staff.

It was the best opportunity they were going to get.

Castillo poked his head out to look left, then right as he checked the corridor to ensure they were alone.

Castillo pulled Tasha out a side entrance. They rushed across the grand courtyard and through the garden of General Morak's estate.

"Down," Castillo ordered.

The pair dipped low and used a hid behind a hedge as two of General Morak's staff passed by. As they waited for the men to pass, Tasha found herself second-guessing her choice.

"Maybe we should go back?" Tasha suggested.

"I made a promise," Castillo replied.

He rose, but Tasha pulled him back down into the safety of their hiding place.

"What if we're caught? He'll kill you," Tasha said, gripped with fear.

Castillo gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Come. We have to hurry," he said, pulling her along.

They made their way along the hedgerow until they reached the east wing of the compound. Tasha and Castillo hugged the shadow of the tall east tower.

Castillo pressed his finger to Tasha's lips to shush her.

The sound of a small voice carried out from the open window above. It was a little girl, and she was singing.

"Jolan tru I say to you. Jolan tru good day to you," she sang while stacking blocks.

Tasha clapped her hand over her mouth, choking back tears. A small gut-wrenching noise escaped from her throat.

It was the first time she had heard her daughter's voice in a month.

Castillo pulled Tasha close as she cried silently.

"She's happy?" Tasha asked, overcome with a strange mix of emotions.

Her heart ached, longing to be reunited with her child. But Tasha also recognised that her child's new life afforded her far better circumstances.

And if they couldn't be together, at least it would ease Tasha's mind to know her child was happy.

"She is well fed and receiving a private education from tutors. This whole tower is dedicated to her. Toys. Staff. I carry her most places," Castillo said with a laugh. "General Morak dotes on her. She's turning into a proper little princess."

It was more than Tasha could have expected.

In a few short months, Sela circumstances had taken a dramatic swing. One day she had been living in near squalor with her mother – rejected by both the Romulans and humans alike on her father's estate because of her status as the bastard daughter of a human consort.

To the Romulans, she was an abomination.

To the humans, Sela was the embodiment of everything they hated and a bitter reminder of the woman responsible for their captivity.

Things had been different when Tasha had been afforded private quarters in General Morak's residence. At least there Tasha had been able to keep Sela isolated from the others.

Then Tasha had fallen from favour.

First came a miscarriage following Sela. Then a stillborn son. There were whispers that the Romulan divines were punishing Morak for defiling the Imperial family by taking a human consort.

Morak was suspicious that Tasha had done something to terminate her pregnancies and blamed her for the losses.

In truth, it was Morak's own fault.

Tasha had done everything in her power to please him for the sake of her daughter's safety.

Tasha held herself responsible.

Morak had beaten her senseless – the cause of the stillbirth - and Tasha still blamed herself.

Because if she had simply let herself die on the Enterprise-C, or on Narendra, or been strong enough to refuse Morak's offer to spare the lives of the other prisoners then none of this would have come to pass.

Instead she had trapped herself and all of the survivors in this awful existence – including her daughter.

Following her stillborn son, Tasha and Sela had been reduced to living and working with the other human labourers on the General's estate.

Morak had seen to providing some limited additional comforts for his daughter. Sela was guaranteed food provisions and a fuel ration. Sela was never to be beaten nor harmed by the Romulans in Morak's service.

But this special treatment only served to fuel resentment among the other prisoners.

Sela was far from General Morak's only child.

He had a number of other children including some through previous Romulan consorts – all of whom had died.

Assassinations in Romulan families were nearly as common as weddings.

Morak's children by his wife had been frail and sickly, dying young.

That meant little Sela was now the last heir General Morak had left.

Where she had once clung to her mother, spending her days being subjected to all sorts of verbal abuse from the other labourers and staff, now Sela had an entire wing of the house devoted to her.

She walked with an entourage of Romulans dedicated to her care. And when her little legs were too tired to go on, she could simply say 'Up! Up!' and her protector, Richard Castillo, would carry her everywhere.

He was her personal bodyguard and the only real father she had in her life.

"She wants for nothing, except her mother," Castillo shared.

General Morak and his wife had quite literally ripped Sela from Tasha's arms. His wife in particular could have cared less for Sela.

But now that she was the heir, the General's wife wanted to ensure Sela was raised properly in the Romulan custom.

Tasha's life had been filled with pain and trauma. Between her childhood on Turkana and her experience as a Romulan captive, Tasha thought she was numb to pain.

Until her daughter was taken.

Tasha had never felt such a profound sense of agony.

"She asks about you," Castillo said. "And when we are alone, I tell her stories."

"You tell her I love her?" Tasha asked. "She knows I love her? That I would never abandon her?"

Tasha requested Castillo pass her love on to her daughter so often that he usually beat her to the question.

"I tell her often. Every chance I get. Each night before I tuck her into bed," Castillo answered.

The sat in silence for a few moments as Tasha listened to her daughter playing. Though General Morak had provided a lavish life for his newfound golden girl, it was a lonely existence.

Sela really had no other children her age to play with.

Her private tutors and staff were there for discipline and instruction. They didn't play with her, and Sela was rarely permitted the opportunity to play without purpose or structure.

She was a member of the Imperial family.

That meant she could never simply be a child.

Socialisation was an important part of growing up and Tasha often found herself worried about her lonely little girl in the isolated tower.

"What is she like?" Tasha asked.

She was eager for any information. Children grew so quickly, changing from day to day. Tasha had been fascinated by all her daughter's progress during the short time she had been in Tasha's care.

Now Sela was learning properly under private tutors. Tasha was like a mouse scrambling for any crumbs of information.

Tasha didn't want to miss any of it.

"What is she learning? What does she like? What are her favourites?" Tasha pressed.

"She's brilliant. Learning to read. Likes to sing," Castillo shared. "I tell her a story every night before bed."

He chuckled.

"Well, most nights it's two or three stories," Castillo confessed. "She's a little spitfire. Stubborn. But eager to please and she works hard."

He paused.

"She takes failure even harder. But with a stiff upper lip – just like her mother," Castillo said.

Tasha sniffled, turning her face away to hide her tears.

"She's beautiful. I see so much of you in her. And sweet," Castillo continued before adding, "when she can be."

Romulan children learned from an early age to harden their hearts. Vulcan children were taught to suppress their emotions.

Romulan children were raised to channel their emotions into service for personal advancement and for the glory of the Empire.

An old Romulan nursery rhyme reminded children that tears were wasted unless used to drown your enemies.

Tasha found herself overcome with emotion as she listened to her daughter singing above.

"It's alright," Castillo assured her. "She's figured out when to play along and when it's safe with me. She's already learning how to survive."

Tasha started sobbing harder. She did her best to stay quiet so as not to risk revealing their whereabouts.

"She sh-sh-shouldn't have to," Tasha wept.

Sela was just a little girl.

Castillo gripped Tasha's arm for support.

"I don't want her to be a survivor. I want her to be a child," Tasha said in anguish.

Tasha had never had the opportunity to be a little girl. Tasha wanted her daughter to be softer than she'd had to be.

Their circumstances were radically different. But Tasha's heart broke for the daughter she feared trapped in a cruel existence.

"Tell me everything," Tasha pleaded.

Castillo wanted to.

He could spend the rest of his days talking about that little girl – how her face lit up whenever he shared a story, the way she danced and sang silly songs when her governess stepped out of the room, and how she couldn't sleep if her stuffed dog wasn't tucked in too.

Sela had captured Richard's heart.

Just like her mother.

And that love was why Castillo would do anything to keep them safe – even if it meant compliance with their Romulan overlords.

"I have to get you back. We've been gone too long now. They will take notice," Castillo warned.

Tasha instinctively touched the wall. She dropped her head and tried to find the strength to leave that spot.

"When General Morak returns he's indicated that he will expect you to return to his bed," Castillo said. "Perhaps if you were to try and gain his favour back he may allow you to see your daughter?"

Castillo felt awful for suggesting such a terrible plan. But he couldn't stand watching Tasha suffer.

"Trade away my sanity, my dignity to see my daughter?" Tasha asked.

Castillo wanted to pull her close. Only he couldn't risk it. Because he knew that if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go.

"I know that what he does to you is-"

"You have no idea what he does to me," Tasha said through gritted teeth.

Castillo fell silent.

Part of his duties for General Morak had included escorting Tasha to and from Morak's quarters. He didn't know what happened behind the thick door to the General's private quarters even if he had heard more than enough to make his stomach turn.

General Morak was a sadist in the truest sense of the word.

Castillo had carried Tasha back to her quarters on many occasions – tending to her wounds and caring for Sela until Tasha came back to the world.

"I would rather suffer a lifetime of men like Brown than ever have to feel Morak's hands on my body again," Tasha declared.

The survivors of the Enterprise-C and Narendra III had initially revered Tasha for her sacrifice to become Morak's consort in exchange for their lives.

During their imprisonment at the Romulan camp, Tasha had been their de facto leader. She was a champion, refusing to break under torture, establishing a ration system to protect the weakest among them, and sharing vital survival tips from her childhood.

The prisoners were promised there would eventually be a prisoner exchange - for everyone except Tasha.

But that promise never materialised.

Now these men were broken, beaten, and defeated. They suffered physical and mental torment daily at the hands of General Morak and his staff while toiling away to serve his estate.

As a result, they scorned Tasha.

In the eyes of the other prisoners it was all Tasha's fault they were trapped.

They spit on her, stole her food rations, intentionally tripped her, and took steps to make her work more difficult.

We could all be dead and at peace. Instead we're here because you decided to be that man's whore. Brown would say.

They called her mallaich vadfal which meant 'cursed.'

Though the workers despised their Romulan overlords, they were keen to use such terms to ridicule Tasha.

Tasha bore that treatment with an otherworldly grace and composure – apologising to the other workers, caring for the weakest among them, and giving all she had to the others.

Just as she had in the prison camp.

It broke Richard's heart.

"I'm sorry, I must get you back to your duties," Castillo said.

Two Weeks Later

Tasha hugged her knees close to her chest.

Romulans lived to bathe. It was such an integral part of their daily lives.

During her fall from grace, Tasha had nearly forgotten what it felt like to soak in such luxury. The prisoners had to make due with a ration of cold water.

Tasha would gladly trade away this oversized tub with its rosewater and soft salts if it meant never having to see General Morak again.

He was back.

Tasha had been minding her own business – perfectly content with the demanding, menial labour of her daily tasks – when Castillo had arrived and plucked her from that life for this one.

Tasha heard him approach before he even announced himself.

"Time?" Tasha asked, knowing full fell he had come to collect her.

"I'm sorry," Castillo said.

Tasha reached out of the water and felt along the edge of the bath for the linen wrap that Romulans used as towels.

Castillo spied it on the floor.

"Here," he said, offering Tasha his hand as he helped her from the bath.

Tasha sat down at her vanity. Castillo was surprised to see her reach for the makeup in the corner. Tasha tapped her brush to release the excess rouge before finding the apple of her cheeks to apply some there.

"My lady?" Castillo asked.

She had expressed such a fervent desire to avoid currying favour with the General. Castillo understood. Tasha wanted to preserve some part of herself.

Tasha stopped and set down the tool.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Every day since," Tasha began to say.

She paused, not feeling safe enough to continue speaking openly of their trip across the compound.

"I'm haunted by the voice of my little girl," Tasha confessed. "I have to be with my daughter. I can't... I can't stand to be separated from her like this."

Tasha stopped and fanned her face. She didn't want to look puffy. Morak would be sure to comment on it.

"The thought of her alone in that tower is just… well that's my breaking point," Tasha concluded. "I suppose I'm really no better than what they say."

"I don't blame you," Castillo assured her.

It was true.

He didn't blame Tasha in the slightest – he pitied her.

"You should know that the General's latest excursion into Klingon territory did not go well. I heard him speaking to Commander Jarok. They lost many ships," Castillo said, warning Tasha that Morak was in a foul mood.

It meant she would not be able to make her request.

At least not tonight.

"We'll find a way, Tuula," Castillo promised in a hushed voice.

Tasha Yar counted each step on the way to General Morak's private rooms.

Romulan homes rarely featured doors. General Morak's quarters was one of the places that offered true privacy in the entire compound.

Tasha knew the route well.

It was one she had taken nightly for most of the last year.

Following her fall from grace, Tasha had thought she was free. She hoped and prayed that the General had finally lost interest and would move on to a new consort.

Tasha didn't mind being discarded. In fact, she had welcomed it.

Unfortunately, Tasha's absence had only fuelled General Morak's unnatural obsession with his forbidden consort.

Tasha was like his little human pet. And that was how she felt, being paraded around in garments she had no right to wear, put on display to amuse his guests, or forced to perform for Morak's entertainment.

Now she was back with renewed purpose.

Tasha wasn't there to save the lives of the crew or to spare a prisoner. This time she was there for the sake of her daughter.

Tasha stopped just shy of the General's door. Castillo was directly behind her having escorted Tasha on her lonely walk.

For a few seconds they were alone.

Just before she stepped in, Tasha dropped her voice to a whisper so low on Richard could hear.

"Don't let them harden her heart. Promise me."

One Year Later

Tasha Yar waited patiently. She was in a large, long room that served as both an entry and exit point to the main residence at General Morak's compound.

All Romulan homes featured such a space on the back side that led into a great courtyard.

The front of the building had an equally lavish entrance. But that was never used. Romulans entered their home through the back as was the custom.

It was early. The sun wasn't quite up. Yet Tasha Yar had been waiting for more than an hour.

Months of careful work to try and please General Morak had paid off – though not quite in the way Tasha had hoped.

Her efforts weren't entirely in vain.

Tasha was with child again and General Morak was pleased. It was why he had granted special permission for Tasha to be in Sela's presence, a rare meeting between mother and daughter.

In the distance, Tasha heard footfalls approaching. There were twelve, maybe fourteen of them marching through the marble corridors.

They were the General's personal guard and signalled the arrival of one very important person.

Suddenly, they stopped.

There was no sound save for a tiny pair of boots on the marble as Sela approached.

Tasha kept her head down, bowed to the floor as was expected. Prisoners and lower social castes were not allowed to look at someone of Sela's rank without permission.

Sela stopped just shy of her mother. She squirmed, struggling to get comfortable in her excessive costume.

Sela was preparing to accompany her father on her first official state event. It would be Sela's formal debut as a member of the Imperial family.

She was wearing full regalia – something she had rehearsed time and again under the watchful eye of General Morak's wife, Drusilla.

Such broad shoulder pads were a lot for a tiny body to carry. The decorative chain harness was heavy. Sela's sleeves were too long and far too big for someone so small.

They hung at least six inches off her hands.

The garment was entirely too constricting for a child so small. Sela was four – almost five – though she carried herself like a little empress.

Sela had spent weeks learning how to walk with her back straight and her chin held high. She knew that she was supposed to nod politely when soldiers paraded past.

Sela also knew how to correctly salute and greet the Romulan Emperor (her uncle) when the time came. Morak's wife, Drusilla, had literally beaten it into her – whacking the back of Sela's legs, her spine, or her hands if the girl's posture wasn't up to par.

Now Sela put all of that to work as she stood before her mother.

She clicked her little boots together and squared her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full three foot height.

"Jolan tru, lady mother," Sela said.

She had used the formal Romulan greeting. It would have sounded sweet coming from such a small voice were it not for the seriousness of the situation.

"Permission to speak, my lady?" Tasha requested.

Sela looked to her father. General Morak offered a single nod.

Sela turned back to Tasha and copied her father exactly – offering one stiff nod of approval to the request.

For nearly a full minute they sat in uncomfortable silence as Tasha waited for permission to address her daughter.

A small noise of frustration escaped from Sela's throat. She clenched her fists.

"Permission to approach and speak, my lady?" Richard Castillo asked as he stepped out of the shadows.

Sela repeated her earlier gesture, offering a small nod of approval that looked almost comical on a child so tiny.

"You need to verbalise. Speak aloud, my lady," Castillo whispered to Sela. "Your mother cannot see you nod."

"Oh," Sela realised with a small gasp.

Castillo had warned Sela, but she had forgotten that fact. Sela composed herself and turned back to Tasha.

"You may speak, mother," Sela said.

A part of Tasha was relieved to hear her daughter. Yet the formalised speech, all the pomp and circumstance made Tasha want to weep.

Her daughter had been robbed of her childhood.

"Thank you, Inilion," Tasha said.

The Romulan word for daughter.

It was the last time Tasha would be permitted to address her daughter in such a way.

Because this wasn't just Sela's first big trip out with her father. She was to be formally inducted as a member of the Imperial family.

Legally, that meant Sela was no longer Tasha's daughter. For all intents and purposes, she would join all her cousins as the 'children' of the Empire.

She would address both the Emperor and General Morak as 'father.'

And only the Imperial Mother, the First Lady of the Empire (a role filled by Morak's cousin) as 'mother.'

It would be as if Tasha never even existed.

From a practical standpoint, it meant any hope Tasha had of being reunited with her daughter was now gone. She wouldn't even be permitted to address or speak of Sela as her daughter anymore – let alone see her again.

This meeting was the first time mother and daughter had been together for months.

And a farewell.

Tasha sat on her knees across from her daughter. They only had a few minutes together. Tasha had spent hours trying to find the right thing to say.

Now that the moment was there, she found that words failed her.

"Do you know who I am?" Tasha asked.

"You were my mother," Sela answered.

Were.

It stung.

"You are Astradis," Sela went on.

Astradis.

It was what the Romulans called Tasha – the woman that fell from the stars.

"Fenthair says that I look like you," Sela added.

Now that she had a chance to properly see her mother, Sela was fascinated. Sometimes she could recall bits of memory like a dream. But they were rare.

Flashes of songs.

The hazy memory of a brilliant smile.

Sela dreamed of her mother so often and in such a fanciful way that she'd started to believe her mother was a fairy tale.

A woman out of time that fell from the stars?

She had to be.

But now there was a woman kneeling before her that was so familiar.

And real.

She had the same blonde hair as Sela. And just like Sela, this woman had no forehead ridges. Save for her pointed ears, Sela had inherited none of the traditional Romulan features.

Sela gasped with pleasant surprise as she touched Tasha's face.

"You have blue eyes. Like me," Sela said.

Blue eyes were rare on Romulus. The only other person Sela knew with eyes like her own was her protector, Castillo.

"I want to see," Sela demanded.

"I am sorry," Tasha said, shaking her head. "I cannot. How do you like your boots? They sound very smart. Are they new?"

She was trying to change the subject.

"I want to see!" Sela whined.

Sela reached for the mask that covered Tasha's eyes, but Tasha stopped her. Tasha put her hand up to hold it in place.

"I want to see!" Sela repeated as her little legs began to tremble with frustration.

"Go on," Morak said, instructing Tasha to comply.

Tasha's hands shook as she reached up to remove the mask that covered her eyes from just above her eyebrows to the apple of her cheeks. Castillo readied himself to catch Sela in case she was frightened.

Tasha pulled away the mask. She felt totally exposed. It had been ages since anyone had looked at her without that covering.

Sela said nothing. She blinked, studying her mother's strange face.

"I used to have blue eyes like you. But not anymore," Tasha said with a hint of sorrow.

She couldn't care less about vanity. For Tasha, the most difficult part of being blinded was that she couldn't see her daughter.

Castillo would describe her. But it hurt Tasha to know she couldn't watch from afar. It was one more way in which Tasha was prevented access to her child.

Tasha didn't flinch as Sela put her hands on her face. Sela traced her finger over the red, puffy scar tissue around Tasha's empty eye sockets.

Sela frowned.

"How can you see, mother?" Sela asked.

"I can't," Tasha answered.

Sela's face fell as she looked down at her uniform.

"Oh," Sela said.

She grabbed the Imperial Eagle broach on her stomach.

"Then you can't see my new boots," Sela pouted.

She was rather proud of them.

Tasha gripped Sela's hands.

"I heard you walk in, and I knew you were in your new boots. I thought you were all grown up," Tasha said. "You're growing so fast, Sela."

Tasha managed a smile and could practically feel Sela grinning back at her.

"You are so beautiful," Tasha gushed.

Beautiful wasn't a word Sela heard often.

Above, General Morak grumbled under his breath.

"Put it back on," he barked. "I can't bear the sight of you without it."

Tasha quickly slipped her mask back on. Ever since the incident that had blinded Tasha, Morak had demanded the mask.

"Do you like your lessons?" Tasha asked Sela. "Are you learning a lot?"

"Yes," Sela replied without elaboration.

Romulans learned from an early age to never offer additional information.

"I have heard you are very clever," Tasha said.

Sela didn't respond. She wasn't accustomed to receiving compliments.

"And that you are an excellent student," Tasha went on.

"It is my duty to learn," Sela responded. "And grow. Fenthair said that one day I will be a great eagle."

It broke Tasha's heart.

"I'm going to meet the vampire," Sela said.

"The Emperor," General Morak said, correcting his daughter.

Morak chuckled. Sela was indeed a clever child and had picked up on her father calling his brother 'the vampire' though she was too small to understand why.

"Fenthair told me you will have a baby," Sela said.

She glanced down at her mother and frowned. Sela had been told that the baby was inside her mummy – but she didn't understand.

"It will be a long time before the baby comes," Tasha answered, instinctively clutching her abdomen. "You will be in school."

Sela's face lit up.

For the last few months, she had been preparing to leave for the Education House. It was a Romulan boarding school designed to raise little conquers and Sela would be joining an exclusive institution along with her cousins and the other children from the military elite.

Suddenly, Tasha sensed General Morak's presence directly behind her. She could feel him breathing on her neck.

"Go ahead," he whispered. "You may."

Tasha reached for the clasp on her locket, but General Morak stopped her.

"Allow me," he said, unclasping the hook.

He pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck just because he could. Morak knew it infuriated his wife who was watching along the side and that she could not react.

Years of practice enabled Tasha to fight the urge to shudder.

Tasha reached for her daughter's hand.

"My grandmother gave me this when I was a little girl. The same age as you," Tasha said.

Sela ran her fingers over the strange gold object.

"Her name was Sela," Tasha said.

There was a sharp intake of breath.

"That's my name," Sela said.

"Yes. Like you," Tasha said fondly.

"Like me," Sela breathed.

"She was the bravest person I ever knew," Tasha told her. "And when she was a little girl just like you, she had to be very brave. She was young. And alone…. and a leader of her people."

When Tasha had first escaped Turkana and found a life in Starfleet, she thought that she had finally made it. She never envisioned the parallels between her child, herself, and her grandmother would be so profound.

Full circle.

Drusilla fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"We don't have time for this trip down memory lane," she drawled.

"I want you to have this to remember me by," Tasha said.

With Castillo's help, Tasha managed to secure the necklace around her daughter's neck.

"Would it be alright.. that is to say may I-"

"Go ahead," Morak said.

The animosity between them had lessened with Morak granting Tasha these rare privileges to see her daughter. She still loathed Morak, but she was compliant as could be just for a glimpse of her child.

Tasha pulled Sela into a tight embrace, holding her daughter close.

"Ow. Too tight," Sela protested.

"I'm sorry," Tasha apologised, loosening her grip.

After a few seconds, Sela relaxed.

Castillo was really the only person that ever offered wee Sela physical reassurance. Her own father rarely offered her any sort of affection.

And the only time General Morak's wife ever laid a hand on Sela was as punishment.

Sela relaxed into her mother's arms, relishing the strange sense of comfort that came from physical contact with someone.

Tasha wished that she had the ability to live in that moment forever. She breathed deep, inhaling the soft scent of her daughter's hair to make a memory.

The tiny hands that held Tasha's sleeves were more than welcome.

Sela was so little. Yet at the same time, she had grown so much.

"Iu sela, iu anwylyd," Tasha whispered.

She clutched the back of Sela's head. Tasha fought back tears as she kissed her daughter's cheek.

"I love you, Sela. You are such a sweet girl. Please remember that. Please be kind to those around you. And good," Tasha said.

There was a lump in her throat that made it hard to speak.

She smiled at her daughter, poking the end of her nose to draw out a grin.

"My little lightning bug," Tasha cooed.

"We need to get going," Drusilla announced in a slow drawl.

She thought the entire affair was pathetic and had made her feelings on the meeting quite clear. There was no shortage of resentment from Drusilla for this human.

Romulan marriages were rarely for love. Morak and Drusilla had both taken many consorts over the years.

But to be humiliated by her husband's obsession with this human consort was far too great a shame for Drusilla to stomach easily.

She had made Tasha's life miserable in every way possible. Before Sela's ascension to heir, Drusilla had made attempts on the lives of both mother and daughter.

Years earlier, Drusilla was the one responsible for blinding Tasha. She'd grown bored listening to Morak drone on about her lovely blue eyes.

Drusilla was a powerful woman in her own right. Though she had been forced to begrudgingly accept Sela as Morak's heir following the death of his last heir – also a legitimised bastard.

For while Drusilla had brought power, influence, wealth, prestige, and a slew of important political connections to their marriage, the one thing she couldn't give Morak was an heir.

It seemed so cruel that all of her beautiful Romulan boys, sons of the Empire, should grow sickly and die before their first birthday while this tiny abomination with nothing more than a trickle of Imperial blood should survive.

At the very least, Drusilla took pleasure in knowing that while she could not give Morak a child, she could pluck Sela away from that human whore the same way she'd plucked out her eyes.

Tasha may have birthed Sela – but Drusilla would be the one to shape her.

"Oh get on with it," Drusilla barked. "It's pathetic watching you sob over a child you never wanted in the first place."

Tasha ignored her.

"I love you, Sela. I will always love you," Tasha said, squeezing her daughter.

Tasha kissed her daughter's head to hide one final message.

"This is not goodbye. I will find you, Sela. I will see you again," Tasha promised in a low voice against her daughter's ear.

"Goodbye, mother," Sela said.

Tasha sat back. She pinched Sela's chin. Tasha smiled as she ran her thumb across her daughter's cherub cheek.

"I love you so much," Tasha said.

It cut right to Tasha's core that Sela couldn't say it back.

"We need to go," Drusilla snipped.

Morak knelt down next to Tasha.

"Say goodbye, Sela," Morak instructed.

"Goodbye, mother," Sela repeated.

"You are not to address her as mother anymore," Drusilla snarled.

"Goodbye, unrai privati," Sela said.

Tasha knew Sela was only reciting what she had been instructed to say – but it didn't make hearing it any easier.

Goodbye, slave.

Tasha's shoulders slumped as Morak took hold of Tasha's hand, removing it from Sela's face.

"Castillo, take care of my jewel," Morak ordered.

He pressed a slow kiss to Tasha's forehead, drawing it out simply to frustrate his wife. Tasha had long been a political game between them.

Morak rested his hand on Tasha's abdomen as he looked to Castillo.

"And my son," Morak said.

Present

Castillo stirred.

His eyes were closed but he could tell there was light in the room.

Was it a room?

He was on his back. And there was a pillow – a real pillow – beneath his head to support it.

Castillo's eyes fluttered open. He immediately groaned and lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the bright overhead light.

Everything hurt.

Pain rippled down the length of his arm and burned his chest and abdomen.

"Whoa, easy," Nurse Ogawa said.

She had been checking his vitals. Alyssa turned over her shoulder.

"Doctor Crusher?" she called out.

Beverly rushed over with her tricorder at the ready. Richard tried to sit up. Beverly's hand shot out to stop him.

"Just relax," Beverly said.

Only Richard couldn't.

He recognised the Starfleet symbol pinned to Beverly's uniform. In fact, he recognised Beverly too.

While Beverly ran her tricorder over Castillo's body to assess his condition, Richard flopped back on the bed. He closed his eyes and laughed.

"Not quite what I pictured," Castillo said.

Nurse Ogawa and Doctor Crusher exchanged a look. They had heard patients say any number of strange things and this was a new one.

Castillo exhaled slowly, releasing a big breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His jaw unclenched. His shoulders relaxed.

"We're going to administer a small dose sedative to help with the pain, Lieutenant Castillo," Beverly informed him.

"No, no," Castillo said, waving her off. "I want to walk around. There's somewhere I need to be."

Richard hadn't expected the afterlife to look like the Enterprise-D. Yet he could see the odd poetic nature of the setting.

When that ship had first emerged in strange temporal fog twenty years earlier, Richard was sure he had died. Then setting foot on the advanced ship was otherworldly.

For nearly two decades, Castillo had held out hope of being reunited with his love in the afterlife. It only made sense it would take this form.

Richard had often dreamed what it would be like to meet her again, to stroll in and find her waiting for him.

"It won't hurt a bit. You'll feel better in a few minutes," Beverly said.

She clicked through the options on her hypospray to set the appropriate dosage.

"Please don't," Castillo requested.

Beverly stopped.

"I'm fine, Doctor. Truly," Castillo said.

Richard felt better than he had in ages. Like he was floating on a cloud.

"You need to rest," Beverly said. "You're safe now. You're on the-"

"The Enterprise," Castillo finished for her with a smile.

Beverly froze.

"Thank you, Doctor Crusher," Castillo said.

Beverly put her acting chops to work, pretending she wasn't disturbed by the fact this man knew her name.

"We're going to take care of you. You'll feel better in no time," Beverly said as she flashed him a smile. "Nurse Ogawa will be right here. You're in good hands."

It was Beverly's way of communicating to Alyssa that she should keep an eye on him until Beverly returned.

There was someone Beverly needed to see straight away.

All of the people recovered from the stolen Romulan ship were cleared. They showed no signs of any parasite or implant at the base of their necks.

Nevertheless, this man knew her name.

Beverly had initially dismissed his reaction to Tasha the day before as delirium. Now she second guessed her decision to disregard that so quickly.

A year earlier, Jean-Luc had ordered Beverly to bury the evidence that linked Tasha Yar's DNA to a genetically engineered contagion that nearly wiped out the Enterprise.

Beverly dropped her tricorder into her pocket. She had an obligation to notify Captain Picard.

And she wanted answers.

Tuula.

I knew you would be here.

I knew we would be together again.

Azura luca galad

Tasha had replayed those words over and over in her mind since the team had rescued the men adrift aboard that damaged Romulan ship.

They were now back in Federation space – though Tasha felt anything but safe.

In a few hours' time, Tasha and Worf were scheduled to take a Security team over to the damaged ship – if the scans checked out.

That was why Tasha was in Ten Forward.

Presently, they were conducting detailed sensor sweeps first. The team had also beamed aboard a robotic tool that would provide key information.

Tasha wasn't going to send anyone over until they could be sure it was safe.

And that took time.

Until then, Tasha was waiting in Ten Forward. It was only 11:00 hours and she was already on her fourth jumbo Raktajino.

"Mmm. Hazelnut and… banana. Caramel. A hint of vanilla," Deanna said as she sniffed Tasha's Raktajino.

"If you're here to join the grand conspiracy to ease me off Raktajino please just out with it," Tasha said.

Deanna chuckled.

"No, I'm not here as a counsellor. Just a friend. But if you don't mind me asking?" Deanna inquired, trailing off as she slipped into the seat across from Tasha.

Tasha held up four fingers as she took a long sip of Raktajino.

"Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything more until I stop and have a hot fudge sundae," Deanna shared.

She smiled in appreciation as she watched one of Guinan's staff pass by with a tray of gooey cake for the table in the far corner.

"And then about two-thirds of the way through I realise I'm eating because it's a distraction, a way to do anything but confront what I've been putting off," Deanna went on.

Tasha shook her head.

"Look, I don't know what it is you're trying not to think about. But I can feel you're afraid of it and a part of me can sense it isn't something you need to fear," Deanna said.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it. For some time, Deanna had sensed Tasha was hiding something.

At first Deanna thought Tasha was merely keeping something to herself. But now it felt like Tasha was trying to keep whatever it was from herself.

For weeks Deanna had sensed this in Tasha – ever since Timothy had left.

"You don't have to tell me. I can feel you're not ready," Deanna said.

Tasha feigned ignorance. She shrugged in a nonchalant manner.

"I'm fine," Tasha said.

In truth, she was terrified. Tasha desperately wanted to tell someone about all that she knew – not that it was much.

But even the skint details in the folder Captain Rixx had shared left Tasha with weight on her chest she couldn't shift.

Deanna reached across the table and gave Tasha's hand a squeeze.

"I'm here for you," Deanna assured her.

"Look, I don't know how he knew Turkanan. Tuula doesn't mean anything," Tasha said.

Deanna opened her mouth to protest but Tasha cut her off.

"They're these little glow bugs. Fireflies that come out after the cold season. It's a term of endearment. It's nothing," Tasha insisted as her face flushed with anger.

Tasha flopped back against her chair. She crossed her arms and scowled, turning her attention out the large windows that lined one wall of Ten Forward.

"Tasha, what are you talking about?" Deanna asked.

"What are you talking about?" Tasha countered.

Tasha eyed Deanna with heavy scepticism.

"I didn't come to ask about what happened yesterday. I wanted to talk about, well… I just wanted to let you know I'm here when you're ready to open up whatever is it that you're keeping to yourself," Deanna offered.

Tasha frowned, confused.

"It's like your aura's changed," Deanna explained as she studied her friend. "There's something different about you."

Deanna flashed her a nervous smile.

"I'll be honest, it's been a little overwhelming. Whenever we're close it's like I get more from you than just you if that makes any sense," Deanna shared. "Trying to read you is like trying to read more than one person."

Deanna chuckled.

"Ridiculous right?" Deanna said.

Tasha blanched.

Deanna's face fell as she sensed Tasha's reaction.

"What did you think I was talking about?" Deanna asked.

"Nothing," Tasha answered too fast.

"You're pretty worked up for it to be nothing," Deanna remarked.

"It's a Harrier-class vessel," Geordi explained.

"Mid-sized. Lighter than a small cruiser but more heavily armed than a fighter shuttle," Data shared.

Jean-Luc was seated behind his desk. He looked from Geordi to Data and back again.

"Are you certain about this?" Picard asked.

"Absolutely," Geordi declared.

"We believe so, sir," Data said.

Jean-Luc rubbed his chin as he considered their proposal.

Data and Geordi didn't just want to study the Romulan ship – they thought they could repair it.

Captain Picard was tempted.

Very tempted.

Having a secret cloaked ship at his disposal would be handy. It could be exactly what was needed to find answers about this Romulan conspiracy, the death of Walker Keel, and the destruction of the Horatio.

They could conduct covert surveillance.

He may even be able to send Data and Tasha off to their wedding.

But there was a pesky voice in the back of Jean-Luc's mind that kept screaming this was wrong. Any use of a cloaked ship would be a violation under the terms of the Treaty of Algeron.

Worse, Jean-Luc couldn't shake away the feeling that came with that.

If he sank to the level of his enemies then he would be no better than the Romulans orchestrating this conspiracy.

Before Jean-Luc could further ruminate on the matter, the door to his Ready Room flew open and Beverly stormed in.

"I need to see you," Beverly said. "And this time, I'm not walking away without some damn answers!"

All three men were taken aback. It was obvious Beverly was steamed.

"Of course. I am just about to wrap up with Mr Data and Mr La Forge and then we can-"

"Now," Beverly urged.

Jean-Luc frowned.

"Is there a medical emergency? The rescued men?" Picard asked, concerned.

Beverly shoved a tablet toward him.

"This time, you're going to answer my questions," Beverly said.

It was the evidence she had previously been ordered to bury. The very evidence Jean-Luc had no explanation for other than time travel.

Jean-Luc bristled.

It was a conversation he wished to avoid at all cost.

"Doctor," Jean-Luc pleaded.

Beverly simply crossed her arms in response and waited.

Geordi and Data could both sense the tension in the room.

"We could resume this conversation at a later time," Data said.

"Yeah, if you two want to be alone-" Geordi said as he pointed back over his shoulder to the door.

Beverly and Captain Picard answered together.

"Yes," Beverly demanded.

"No!" Picard said, his voice belying just how panicked he was at the thought.

Data and Geordi turned to one another, a look passed between them as they wordlessly communicated.

"We would be happy to wait outside," Data announced.

"You will stay right there," Picard barked.

Data stopped, hovering a few inches off his seat. In accordance with the Captain's order, Data had quite literally stayed in place – neither sitting nor standing.

Jean-Luc sighed.

"Please sit down, Mr Data," Picard clarified.

Data nodded and slipped back into his seat.

"Thank you, Captain," Data said, relieved to be out of his previously awkward position.

"Doctor, you may wait in here or outside," Jean-Luc said.

Over in Sickbay, Castillo was biding his time.

True to her duty, Nurse Ogawa kept vigil at his bedside. Castillo used the time to observe the comings and goings of the other staff.

He had spent half his life paying attention to such things. That skill had saved his life on Romulus more than once.

Without warning, a patient a few cots over began to thrash. It was Roosevelt and he just regained consciousness.

His injuries were severe. In order to keep him in a stable position for healing, the medical team had his body carefully positioned and restrained.

Waking up in such a position had triggered Roosevelt's trauma from their time in the Romulan prison camp.

He began to trash violently, ripping off the healing sleeve and monitors to try and free himself.

"I need some help," Lieutenant Adams called out as he tried to restrain Roosevelt. "You're safe. I'm here to help."

Nurse Ogawa rushed over to grab Roosevelt's legs before he ripped out the work the dermal regenerator had done in its first round of treatment.

"Ambizine. 5 cc's," Lieutenant Adams ordered.

One of the nursing staff made a beeline for the cot with her hypospray ready.

And Richard Castillo saw his opportunity to slip away.

Castillo blinked in awe as he looked up and down the corridor on deck 12. It was so bright. He had been here before.

It was darker then.

He studied the overhead lighting and built in computer panels along the wall. Castillo surmised that there really was some truth in the stories he'd heard about the afterlife.

As he stumbled down the corridor, Richard had only one desperate goal in mind. He managed to get himself to the lift.

"Please state your destination," the computer prompted after a moment with no instruction.

Castillo chuckled.

"Deck ten," he ordered.

There was no need to search for her whereabouts. The moment he'd woken up back on this ship from the future, Castillo knew exactly where she would be waiting for him.

The doors to Ten Forward slid open.

Castillo spied her at a table by the windows.

She looked almost exactly the same as he'd remembered. The way she had looked when he had first met her.

When she was happy.

Castillo froze. His feet remained planted in the corridor, unable to move. His mouth went dry.

Richard dove back to the side of the door, his courage retreating. He caught sight of himself in one of the unlit computer panels and cringed.

Years of hard labour and premature ageing were evident as he turned his face side to side. His curls had started to grey. There were wrinkles around his eyes and the skin at his neck was loose in a way that made him look older than he really was.

Castillo glanced down at his hands. They were tanned and calloused – almost like leather from his years in the Romulan sun.

There was a hint of the handsome rogue that had once existed there.

But just a hint.

Castillo sighed and peeked back through the window to where she was chatting with a woman he'd never seen before.

Deep down, he knew his love wouldn't care one bit. She would be overjoyed to see him and probably enjoy ribbing him over his grey curls.

Richard wouldn't mind in the slightest as he imagined what it would feel like for her to run her hands through them again.

He smirked to himself. He could practically hear her making a smart remark, telling him off for being a dirty old man and to keep his hands to himself before a kiss that would leave him breathless.

Richard ran his hand back through his hair and squared his shoulders.

If he couldn't make her swoon, at least he could make her smile.

Castillo stepped into Ten Forward and sauntered up to the bar where Guinan was just salting the rim of a wide glass for another patron's drink.

"What'll it be?" Guinan asked without looking up.

"Just a pint, please. You got Spirit of San Francisco?" he asked.

Guinan chuckled while she worked on the other drink.

"Yeah," she answered. "Haven't had anybody order one of those in an age."

At one time, it was the staple for young Starfleet officers. During the height of the last war with the Klingons, Guinan had operated an establishment on Starbase Yorktown.

The spot was popular for short R&R trips and 'Spirit' as it was called was the drink of choice. Brewed by a company in San Francisco, it was like a taste of home for those fresh from the Academy.

And in the 2340's Starfleet was shipping fresh graduates to the border faster than any other supply ship.

"Feeling nostalgic?" Guinan asked as she poured the pint, her back to her patron.

"You could say that," Castillo replied as he gazed across the room.

Guinan turned back with the drink and stopped. Her whole body was rocked by a disorienting sense of déjà vu.

The glass slipped clean through her hand and shattered when it hit the floor.

Tasha heard the noise.

But when she turned to look, she caught sight of the man at the bar staring at her.

A chill went down Tasha's spine.

The man wasn't staring – he was leering.

And he was coming over.

Deanna recognised it was one of the men they had rescued. She got up from her seat and went to him to offer assistance. He was already wobbling, and Deanna didn't think it was likely Beverly would have given him the all clear to leave Sickbay in such a state.

"Hi. I'm Deanna, the ship's Counsellor," Deanna said, offering her arm for support.

Castillo hobbled right past her, solely focused on the goal ahead.

The small step to the platform under the window was difficult and Richard nearly fell. Tasha's arm shot out to steady him as Richard grabbed the table for support.

"Gods this is embarrassing," he confessed.

He looked at Tasha, pleading for compassion. Richard slipped into the seat next to Tasha. It felt like an out of body experience. He was completely oblivious to the fact this euphoric, hazy feeling was from his injuries and medication.

Richard glanced around and smiled.

"I've dreamed of this moment for so long," Castillo said.

"Get a medical team," Tasha ordered, looking to Deanna.

Tasha flinched as Richard reached up to brush her bangs back.

"Your hair's different. I like it," he said.

Tasha was at a loss for words. She frowned and shook her head as she stared at him.

"You know when I said that if you ever got back to Earth and saw man, say, in his late fifties taking a hard look across a crowded room," Richard said, gripping Tasha's hands. "I really thought I was gonna age differently. You know, distinguished."

2344

The damage to the Enterprise-C was extensive.

A majority of the crew had been killed during their first battle with the Romulans over Narendra III.

Richard had always hated maintenance and repair work. Ambassador-class consoles had a reputation for being notoriously difficult to fix due to the odd placement of the access panel. It was a design flaw that would be fixed on the next starship class design.

But today, Richard didn't mind the work.

Because as long as he was working, the longer he got to live.

All across the ship, repairs were underway to transform the Enterprise-C back into a formidable heavy cruiser.

The minute she was complete, Castillo and the rest of the remaining crew would be heading back through a temporal rift to their own time.

And death.

It stung. It felt horribly unfair – both that his life would be cut short and that he was aware of that countdown.

Castillo had taken an oath to serve Starfleet. He knew the possibility of death was part of that duty though he had never imagined it would end like this.

From her position under the console, Tasha Yar could see Richard was trying to avoid confronting the obvious. He was deep in thought, concentrating on his work with the sonic driver.

Tasha recognised that look.

"I think it's really great what you're doing," Tasha said suddenly.

Richard stopped.

"I'm sorry," Tasha said quickly. "I tell a lie. I don't think it's great. I think it's awful. Terribly unfair and you shouldn't have to do this."

Richard did not respond.

Tasha closed and groaned.

"Really put my foot in my mouth, eh? Look, I don't know what to say. I don't even know where to begin. But I don't want you to think what you're doing is for nothing," Tasha said.

She blinked quickly, trying to keep herself composed.

The remaining crew of the Enterprise-C were flying back to certain death in the hope of ending a war. A war that, according to Guinan, was supposed to end in Castillo's era.

Tasha leaned in close.

"Before I was posted to the Enterprise, I was in covert operations," Tasha shared.

Castillo smirked.

"Of course you were," he said, teasing her.

Tasha smacked his arm.

"I'm trying to be serious," Tasha said.

They'd had an undeniable chemistry since first meeting. Over the last twenty-four hours they had fallen into a routine. What started as sarcastic teasing had quickly turned to flirting.

Dark humour was a staple of survival in Tasha's timeline.

They lived at the edge of a warzone. Starfleet had lost many lives and ships. It was nearly half the size it had once been in Castillo's era.

"Oh? Is this where you kiss me and profess your undying love for a man out of time that you'll never see again?" Castillo went on.

He was inches from her face. Tasha could so easily close the distance.

For a split second, Richard thought she might. But then Tasha stopped.

"I just want you to know that it matters. I've watched a lot of people die – too many missions that have ended in body counts. And no one knows," Tasha said.

According to history (Tasha's history anyways) the Enterprise-C had simply disappeared. No one would know of their sacrifice.

"What you're doing matters. It's important. It's brave. And even if no one knows, that doesn't lessen the value of what you're doing," Tasha said.

"Oh don't get weepy on me now, Lieutenant," Castillo said.

Tasha looked away, turning her attention back to the console to avoid having to cry in front of him.

"I'm far too ugly to cry about," Richard teased.

Tasha rolled her eyes and picked up the hyperspanner from the open toolkit.

She froze as she felt Richard's breath near her ear. He glanced around to ensure they were out of earshot.

"I'm a dying man, Lieutenant. Someone's got to remember me," he whispered.

"According to Mr Data, we probably won't even know this conversation ever happened if the timeline changes," Tasha said without looking away from her work.

"Then give me an hour of time and I'll give you something to remember me by," Richard murmured. "An hour you'll think about for the next twenty years. An hour you'll look back on in the twilight of your life that will make you ache for today."

Tasha threw her head back and snorted with laughter.

"Sure. Let me guess, the maintenance closet at the end of the corridor? Or do you know a nice little spot near the deuterium storage tanks?" Tasha asked.

Richard feigned offence.

"Baby, you're no tumble in a Jefferies tube," he replied.

Richard scooted a little closer and rested back against the console. He leaned to the side, putting himself in Tasha's line of sight.

"I've got a bunk," he said.

"A bunk?" Tasha asked, pretending to be impressed.

"Oh yeah. I share with three other guys. I'll hang a sock on the door's access panel. I've got half a bottle of some really lousy whisky and some cream crackers."

Tasha grinned.

"See? Bet you don't have that on your fancy ship," Richard said.

"We have whisky," Tasha assured him.

They did – though replicator use was limited, and supply lines were sporadic at best. Everyone on the Enterprise-D was on strict rationing.

"Ah! But is it really lousy?" Richard pressed.

Tasha could help but giggle. He was persistent. And Tasha found something endearing in the fact he chose to face death with a smile.

"Only the best for you," Richard said, holding her gaze. "At least I can die knowing I impressed a woman from the future."

"Who said I was impressed?" Tasha asked.

She looked him up and down before turning back to the task of stripping away the fried wires on the console.

"I am," Richard confessed, all trace of his previous playful nature gone. "You know, in another life I would have really liked to ask you to go for cheeseburger. Proper, you know?"

Tasha just shook her head. Castillo laughed nervously.

"Ok. Not a cheeseburger. Truth be told, I'd probably be too scared to," Richard said. "I think I only feel this way because, well…"

Tasha stopped working. She sat back on her knees as realisation hit that he wasn't teasing anymore.

"Do you want to blow this place? Hop a shuttle? We could go anywhere. Risa. Freecloud. No, no – one of those cabanas on Chellois Bay," Richard said.

"You may find this hard to believe, but I don't get a lot of shore leave. We're sort of in the middle of a war," Tasha countered.

Castillo was undeterred.

"They have two moons there. You look darling in this emergency lighting, but I bet you look divine in moonlight," Richard breathed.

Tasha's chest felt tight, she wasn't sure what to stay.

Or why she felt shy.

"You could laugh at my ridiculous attempts to impress you. I'd make you burnt toast in the morning," Castillo imagined aloud.

All of a sudden it was too intimate, too personal.

So Tasha fell back on the one thing she did best – deflection.

"Your ship has much more manoeuvrability than the Romulan counterparts of that era. Actually, if you could just isolate," she started to say.

Tasha paused.

"You'll do fine," she said.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I didn't mean to… I shouldn't have said anything," Richard said, feeling small.

A look passed between them. Tasha opened her mouth and found she was at a loss for words.

"You don't have to say anything to try and make me feel better," Richard assured her. "I wouldn't want to be pitied or have you pretend just to make a man feel better. A man you'll never see again."

Tasha wasn't sure how to respond.

"You don't know that. Our history isn't set in stone. Isn't that what this is all for? Maybe you'll make it back home?" Tasha offered.

Richard held her gaze for a second. He wanted to believe her words, to take hold of that hope and cling to it.

But somehow he knew he wasn't going to see Earth again and that this love story would be over before it could even start.

Richard took hold of her hand and pressed a chaste kiss against the inside of Tasha's wrist.

"If you get back to Earth and you see a man, say, in his late fifties taking a hard look across a crowded room-"

Richard tipped his head to the side as if to indicate uncertainty.

"Hey, you never know," he concluded.

Present | Ten Forward

Richard laughed.

"Sorry I'm such an ugly mug," he teased.

He expected her to throw something back at him. They'd always had such great banter between them, and her dry sense of humour was what had drawn Richard to her in the first place.

He didn't understand Tasha's unexpected reaction. She looked terrified, confused.

"I think you're heavily sedated." Tasha said, concerned.

"I told the doctor I didn't want any of that," Richard explained.

Tasha frowned.

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

Tasha glanced over to the bar where Guinan was still cleaning up the mess from before.

Had this man had one too many?

"I know I'm different. I know I couldn't protect you. I failed you, Tuula," he said, pulling Tasha's attention back.

Richard was still grappling with the knowledge his men had fired on Sela. Castillo didn't know she had survived.

Thinking he was dead, Castillo was left to believe that one of his final acts had led to Sela's demise.

"I'm not the same man you fell for. But I can still give you gentleness. And joy. And love," Castillo promised.

He smiled.

"I love you, Nastasiyla," Castillo confessed.

Tasha recoiled as if she had been burned.

Richard slipped off the chair, succumbing to his injuries and Tasha swung into action. The wound on his torso caused by a console blast had been jostled enough to reopen.

In dragging himself to Ten Forward, Castillo had done quite a number on his injuries.

"Where's the medical team?" Tasha said.

Richard collapsed against her as Tasha applied pressure to the wound. He'd taken a nasty burn and the wound from the shrapnel was open again.

"Quick clot. From the kit," Tasha ordered, motioning with her head toward the door.

Deanna hurried to the first aid kit located near the door and rummaged through to find the medication.

He was ghastly white and at risk of bleeding out if they didn't get things under control. Tasha shushed Castillo as he tried to laugh.

"Why is it… you're always saving me?" Castillo asked.

It was difficult to talk.

"Shhh. Try not to move," Tasha said.

He clutched the fabric on Tasha's sleeve and grimaced in pain.

"I really imagined this would be different. I wanted to come in and sweep you off your feet," Richard said.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you need a doctor. And you ought to be in Sickbay," Tasha commented.

Castillo laughed as he buried his head against her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. Story of my life. Gods I've missed you," he said.

The doors to Ten Forward slid open and in rushed Doctor Selar and a medical team with a stretcher.

"This is probably going to hurt," Tasha warned.

The medics were prepping to shift Castillo onto the stretcher. From experience, Tasha knew that would be a rough transition.

"We're together again. You're here. Nothing else matters, Tasha," Castillo said.

He tried to sit up and Tasha grumbled.

"Look, you're going to bleed out if you don't stop moving about," Tasha said in a terse voice.

"You can't kill a dead man twice," Castillo retorted.

Tasha made a face.

Richard hissed as Doctor Selar used a knitter to apply an emergency seal to his wound. Given the severity and the need to stop the bleeding, she had cranked it up to a high level. It was hot and it stung.

In spite of all the activity happening around him, time moved slowly for Richard. Tasha and two of the medics were preparing to make the transition to the stretcher.

The Counsellor was ushering patrons out and ordering them to stay back.

Suddenly Richard realised this wasn't the glorious afterlife he had envisioned.

He was very much alive.

Richard gripped Tasha's hand so tight it was painful.

"I'm not dead," he thought aloud.

"No, you're fortunate Lieutenant Yar here kept pressure on your wound," said Doctor Selar.

Richard dropped Tasha's hand, retracting his own. He clutched it close to his chest to stop it from trembling.

"What have I done?" he asked.

"I'll think about it and inform you of my decision in the coming days," Picard said.

He was still in his Ready Room discussing the matter of the damaged Romulan ship now in their possession. Jean-Luc had done everything he could to draw out that conversation.

But Geordi and Data were just too damned efficient.

"Thank you, Captain," Geordi said.

"Thank you, sir," Data chimed in.

Beverly looked quite pleased with herself as their meeting drew to a close.

As soon as Data and Geordi saw themselves out, Beverly sprung.

Jean-Luc put up a hand to stop her before she could launch into a slew of questions.

"Beverly, I'm going to warn you first – you're probably not going to be happy as I can't tell you any more than I did the first time we had this conversation," Picard cautioned.

Beverly had come prepared.

She was about to leap into a speech on transparency and ethics when her combadge chimed.

"Doctor Crusher? We have a medical emergency. You're needed in Sickbay," Nurse Ogawa's voice rang out. "One of the patients we recovered escaped and collapsed in Ten Forward."

Beverly's fury evaporated. Her posture sank, disappointed to have her opportunity snatched away after waiting for so long.

"Duty calls," Picard said.

"I'll be back," Beverly declared. "You can't hide forever."

Jean-Luc relaxed the minute Beverly was gone. He was pleased to finally have a moment alone. It had been a trying morning and the matter of the Romulan ship weighed heavily on Picard's mind.

He was concerned that even attempting to fix the vessel could be interpreted as a treaty violation.

"Tea. Earl Grey. Hot," Picard ordered.

"Oh I think you'll need something a little stiffer," Guinan said as she swept into the room without even chiming first.

Jean-Luc was stunned.

"Guinan? Twice in as many days. To what I do I owe the pleasure?" Picard said.

He offered her a drink, but Guinan waved him off.

"I've met him," Guinan said.

Picard's brow furrowed.

"The man that-" Jean-Luc trailed off.

Guinan nodded slowly.

"You need to speak with him, Captain," Guinan urged.

"I intend to speak with all of the men we rescued as soon as they're strong enough," Jean-Luc said before adding a caveat. "And if they recover."

Beverly had advised some of them were in dire straits. Their wounds were severe. Beverly had such a limited knowledge of Romulan physiology that she was worried there was little she could do for two of the survivors.

"Mr Data, Counsellor Troi, and I will conduct the interviews. And, in time, I expect Lieutenant Yar and Commander Riker will have want to discuss-"

"No, Jean-Luc. You need to speak to him. The man that collapsed. Alone," Guinan insisted.

Picard eyed his old friend with caution.

"Guinan, did he say something while he was in Ten Forward?" Picard asked.

Guinan shook her head.

"No. Only to order a drink," Guinan answered.

Picard had long since come to understand that Guinan had a special wisdom. Her unique relationship with unseen, otherworldly forces gave her perspective that rivalled Deanna's empathic insight.

"Then you've had a… feeling?" Picard inquired.

"No. I told you. I've met him," Guinan said.

Picard pushed aside his tea and leaned forward, his curiosity piqued.

"Where? When?" Picard asked.

"Ten Forward," Guinan answered in a strange voice.

Jean-Luc pursed his lips.

"Guinan," he began in a warning tone.

"I don't mean today when he collapsed. Yesterday," Guinan said, trying to explain.

Picard did his best to check his temper.

"Guinan, that man was unconscious yesterday," Picard pointed out.

Guinan's brow furrowed. She turned her attention to the window behind Picard's desk.

"Another yesterday," she said, struggling to clarify. "A yesterday that hasn't come to pass."

She looked up from under the wide brim of her purple hat.

"Have you ever walked across a frozen lake? One where the ice is so clear you can see underneath into the water? It's like a whole different world below. You can see the reeds. You know they are there, only you can't touch them," Guinan went on.

"Guinan, you're speaking in riddles," Picard said, pleading with her for help.

He desperately wanted to understand. But Guinan was at a loss to explain it and Picard was struggling to keep up.

"I've met him," Guinan repeated.

"When? Where?" Picard pressed in exasperation.

"I don't know," Guinan confessed. "But I know you need to speak with him."

She paused and studied Picard for a moment.

"You should listen to him," Guinan continued. "You must listen to him."

Guinan gripped Picard's hand.

"You've always been an explorer. You will not want to follow this tributary. But you must," she warned. "It flows from the same source. Even though the river diverges, you have travelled both streams."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"Sometimes you're really quite spooky," Picard said.

"I've been called worse," Guinan replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"He's safe for now. Heavily sedated. I'm sure this is all very confusing for them," Beverly said.

Deanna, Beverly, and Tasha were in Beverly's office.

Doctor Crusher was seated behind her desk. Deanna was sitting. And Tasha was leaning against the glass, watching the unconscious men out in the main part of Sickbay.

"I'd like to be on hand when they're up. Please page me," Deanna requested.

Beverly found herself in agreement. Having a counsellor on hand would be for the best.

"Though it may be some time. None of them are out of the woods yet or likely to be anytime soon," Beverly advised.

The eight survivors were clinging to life. Beverly had been cautious about getting her hopes up given the severity of their injuries.

"None of them were in great health. I think it's been a long time since they had any proper medical care. They're malnourished," Beverly went on.

The poor state of their health wasn't doing much for what little chance of survival they had.

Tasha had said nothing since the incident in Ten Forward. She had been staring at Castillo while he rested, racking her brain to try and understand.

"Tasha? Would you like to join me for a hot chocolate?" Deanna offered, sensing Tasha wasn't okay.

The ask pulled Tasha's attention away from the window.

"No," Tasha replied, faking a smile. "I should probably, well-"

She gestured down the front of her uniform that was stained with Castillo's blood.

An hour later Tasha was still wearing that blood-stained uniform. She was sitting at the table in her quarters.

There was a cold, untouched cup of peppermint tea in front of her.

Tasha couldn't fathom who this Castillo was or how he knew her.

His Starfleet record was routine. Tasha had found nothing out of the ordinary for the helmsman. He had disappeared along with hundreds of other souls when the Enterprise-C vanished in 2344.

Tasha had been alive then, but only a child.

Even if this man had somehow found his way to Turkana (unlikely given the Federation's stance on the planet), the dates didn't align.

Tasha had no memory of this man from her childhood. There had been faces and names that came and went.

Her tumultuous childhood and its frequent instability meant Tasha had spent her life on the road, bouncing from place to place – sometimes in the care of a religious order or people that had ulterior motives for keeping a child.

More often than not Tasha and Ishara found themselves alone trying to survive in the harsh Turkanan wilderness.

It was safer.

Tasha was so consumed with her thoughts that she didn't hear Data slip into the room.

Data was surprised to find her sitting alone in the dark.

The shower was running unattended. Tasha had switched it on and then completely forgotten about it. Data rushed into the lavvy and turned it off.

The water had run for so long it was running cold now.

"Tasha?" he asked softly as he returned to the main room.

She didn't answer.

"Tasha?" Data repeated.

She jumped when Data put his hand on her shoulder.

Data spied the blood on her uniform and immediately dropped to his knees.

"Tasha? What has happened? Tasha?" Data demanded, searching for a wound.

"It's not mine," Tasha replied in a faraway voice.

Data relaxed – a little.

"Something has happened," Data said.

He'd been tucked away in the lab with Geordi working for most of the day aside from his meeting with Captain Picard.

"There was an incident at Ten Forward," Tasha answered.

Data cupped her face, his eyes full of concern.

"Talk to me," he pleaded.

"I feel like I don't know what's happening anymore. Like I don't know who I am," Tasha confessed.

She frowned and turned to Data.

"He knew my name," Tasha said.

"Perhaps he overheard it?" Data suggested.

He could sense Tasha was deeply troubled and wanted to offer a logical explanation.

"No," Tasha said, shaking her head. "He knew my name, Data."

Data's eyes widened as he caught her meaning.

"Nastasiyla," Data realised aloud.

His neural net surged as he tried to piece together all the snippets of information.

"Then when he called you Tuula-"

"It's what my grandmother called me when I was a girl," Tasha said in a voice so soft that she was barely audible.

Tasha closed her eyes. A pained look crossed her face.

"This distresses you," Data observed.

She felt awful, embarrassed for being worked about something so trivial when there were more pressing matters at hand.

Tasha dropped her gaze to her lap where she started to pick at her fingernails.

"It's stupid. I shouldn't even be-"

She stopped when Data reached for her hand. Tasha looked up mournfully at Data, unsure of how to begin explaining her feelings.

"There were so many, so very many," Tasha said, shaking her head. "I stopped counting."

She paused.

"I just wanted to keep some part of me for myself," Tasha confessed.

During her darkest days, the time in her life when Tasha had been conditioned to believe she wasn't a person, Tasha had clung to her name.

It was her secret.

One part of herself that she wasn't forced to share with others, something they couldn't take from her.

And that's what Tasha couldn't understand. Even if this Castillo had somehow been one among many in the slew of men that had paid good coin to Tasha's abuser for their chance to hurt a child, Tasha couldn't recall ever revealing her name.

Tasha spent most of her time during those days entirely dissociated from her body.

She never would have told someone like that her name.

"It's stupid," Tasha said, dismissing her feelings.

"It is not stupid," Data said.

He pulled Tasha in close and kissed her forehead.

"It is important to you," Data whispered.

Tasha leaned into the embrace.

"I think I just, well… I wanted something, some part of us to be for us only," Tasha shared.

"What we share cannot be lessened by-"

"I know, I know," Tasha replied, cutting him off. "I just-"

Data sat back and held Tasha's face, running his thumb across her cheek.

"I think it is wonderful you chose to share such a part of yourself with me," Data said. "And if you are bothered that another knows your name then take heart that we have Føroyar."

He smiled fondly.

"We will always have Føroyar," Data assured her. "That will always be ours. And ours alone."

"If we ever get there," Tasha teased.

She chuckled and relaxed against Data.

No sooner had she started to calm down when Data slipped away. Tasha was confused until she heard the tap start. Data emerged a moment later.

"We will," Data declared.

He scooped Tasha up and carried her into the bath.

"Whether it takes a month, a year, ten years," Data said. "Even if I must carry you there myself."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Tasha replied.

She tossed aside her uniform and threw it into the garment reprocessor before stepping into the warm water.

"Whisky?" Data offered, prepared to fetch her favourite drink.

"No. I haven't-"

Tasha stopped herself.

She couldn't very well tell Data she hadn't felt like drinking much lately. He would only stress over her health.

Data waited patiently for her answer.

"I haven't been drinking much since I started training again. I don't want to change that now," Tasha lied.

"Tea then?" Data asked.

Tasha's hand shot out of the water to grab his arm.

"Get in here," she ordered.

Data was only too happy to comply. He stripped off his uniform and slipped into the hot water behind Tasha.

She snuggled down against him as Data threw his arm across her abdomen.

"I love you," Data said, resting her chin against Tasha's shoulder.

Tasha threw her feet up, crossing them as they rested on the edge.

"Sorry, I know this isn't as comfortable as your tub. But I think people might have stared if we'd gone to your place," Tasha teased.

Data's oversized bathtub was quite a bit more comfortable than the small tub in Tasha's quarters. It was one of the perks of being Second Officer and Data's favourite point of discussion when it came to deciding where to live.

"We do need to make a decision," Data advised.

They were still no closer to a plan for moving in together.

Tasha looped her fingers through Data's.

"We could speak with Commander Riker. Put in a request for proper family quarters," Data suggested.

Family quarters were a luxury on a starship.

"Data, those days are a long way off," Tasha said.

She didn't feel right taking up such a space until the time came. Until then, Tasha was resolved that they would make due with one of their quarters.

Though it remained unresolved just how they planned to sort that out.

Data and Tasha were wholly committed to living together in spite of the fact neither wanted to give up their space.

"I suppose people will talk if we don't make a decision soon," Tasha surmised.

"Let them talk," Data said.

Only Tasha didn't want talk. She didn't want rumours or whispers.

Hell, she didn't even want to think about it.

Because her mind kept returning to one conclusion, the very same explanation Starfleet had reached in the matter of the file Rixx forwarded.

Temporal Mechanics.

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

Data paused.

"That is the second time you have asked this question," he said, recalling Tasha's previous request.

It had been months earlier during the investigation conducted by Admiral Quinn and Lieutenant Commander Dexter Remmick.

Tasha tensed in his arms.

"It is alright. I am not bothered – only I am curious why it seems to weigh on your mind?" Data asked.

"Then let's talk about something else, hmm?" Tasha suggested.

Data was only too happy to oblige the request. In fact, he had an intriguing bit of information he wished to share. It was something he'd been thinking about all day.

"I am most eager to speak with the survivors," Data said. "I have often wondered what happened after we lost transmission. I find at times I reflect on that ship and how different I might feel were I on the other end of that conversation."

Tasha turned so could look at Data.

"I will be able to add a welcome addition to my officer log from that night," Data commented.

"Data, are you saying-"

Sometimes it was hard for Tasha to wrap her head around the fact Data had been in Starfleet twice as long as Tasha. He had more than twenty years of service under his pips.

"The Trieste was one of my first assignments. We intercepted a request for reinforcements," Data shared.

Tasha's body went cold as she eyed Data with suspicion.

"You knew? They radioed for help? What happened?" Tasha demanded. "The official report-"

She paused and shook her head.

"The official report does include the information we obtained on the Trieste. However, it failed to answer what happened to the ship or how it disappeared," Data explained.

That was part of why Data was so keen to find out more.

"We initially picked up an emergency Starfleet request for assistance to aid in the defence and evacuation of the planet Narendra III," Data explained.

The Trieste had been the next closest ship to the Enterprise-C. But the Trieste was primarily a science vessel – smaller and slower than a ship like the grand Ambassador-class cruisers.

Data frowned.

"It was the strangest thing. One minute the ship was there and then it was gone," Data recalled.

2344 | USS Trieste

Data cocked his head to the side, studying his panel.

"Mr Data?" Captain Shahwani prompted.

Data was Lieutenant, junior grade but Captain Atfah Shahwani had already come to realise he was worth a lot more than pips.

An hour earlier, the Trieste had intercepted an emergency hail from the USS Enterprise.

The flagship had transmitted coordinates to a planet near an area called the Demon's Triangle. It was the intersection of Klingon, Romulan, and Federation space and a region most ships steered clear of.

The planet Narendra III was located there.

It was a desolate world offering little in the way of comfort or weather. But Narendra III remained strategically important.

For hundreds of years both the Romulans and Klingons had sought to occupy the territory. Even Starfleet had established an outpost there.

But that outpost had been abandoned for more than a century.

Over the last thirty years, the Klingons had attempted to tame the wilds of Narendra III. They established farming colonies, trading posts, and villages.

It remained sparsely populated but there were pockets with hundreds of Klingon civilians.

According to the request from the Enterprise, those people were in danger. Captain Rachel Garrett hadn't hesitated.

They may have been at war with the Klingons, but there were people in need of assistance.

And if the transmission was to be believed, they were under attack from Romulans.

"Have you been able to verify the transmission?" Captain Shahwani asked.

She had an inkling this felt like an ambush intended to lure ships.

After all, what better way than to transmit an emergency hail from the ship that was, perhaps, Starfleet's greatest asset?

Data turned in his seat and glanced back at the Captain.

"I cannot establish a sensor lock on the ship," Data advised. "It was there and then it was… gone."

"Gone?" Captain Shahwani said, pressing for elaboration.

Data shook his head.

"I have attempted to recalibrate our long range sensors. I am not detecting any malfunctions. With your permission, I would like to launch a probe," Data requested.

He wanted to determine if this was an issue with the Trieste or if something else was at play.

Suddenly, his brow furrowed as Data spied a blinking light on his console.

"Captain, the ship has reappeared," Data said.

Chalking it up as a temporary glitch, Data relayed the appropriate ID command request back to the ship in hopes that they would answer with the appropriate code.

It was standard procedure in these situations to avoid Romulan and Klingon deception.

There had been a time when Starfleet was solely a discovery service dedicated to exploration and scientific advancement.

While that remained a part of her vision, the day to day reality of life in Starfleet had grown to become militarised.

Peace talks with the Klingons had stalled.

Data feared that if this incident with the Enterprise really was a trap that the war would drag on for years to come. In fact, he had calculated there was eighty-four percent chance it would not end without some sort of unifying event.

Like a new threat emerging. Data thought darkly.

His console pinged with an incoming message from the Enterprise.

"Captain, we are receiving a transmission back. It is the Enterprise," Data said after confirming the code was accepted.

Captain Shahwani sprang into action. She ordered the helm to lay in a course for Narendra III, put the ship at Red Alert, and had Tactical forward a message out to any and all Starfleet vessels in the area.

The Trieste was only a little science ship.

But if the flagship was in trouble, it was essential they offer what help they could.

"Are we in communications range?" Captain Shahwani asked.

"Audio only," Data replied.

They weren't close enough for anything else.

"Open a channel to the Enterprise!" Shahwani ordered.

Data punched in his access code and adjusted the long-range communications transmitter to broadcast via subspace.

The mood on the Bridge was tense. Captain Shahwani was an Ecologist by trade. She was a Starfleet Captain and an excellent on at that – but she had no battle experience.

The Trieste had largely been isolated from war.

"Enterprise, this is the Trieste. We are en route to your location. Can you transmit specific orders?" Captain Shahwani asked.

Everyone waited, holding their breath for any word as to the situation – casualties, tactical position, a plan for evacuation.

For eight agonising seconds there was no response.

And then it came.

"Four warbirds."

Static cut across the channel, garbling the message.

"Imperative we defend Narendra."

Once more, there was thick interference that prevented clear communication.

"Captain Garrett - dead."

The channel disconnected.

"Briefing room. Now. You have the Bridge, Mr Data," Captain Shahwani ordered.

The Trieste was at least four hours away at maximum warp. Captain Shahwani was determined to continue on their course to render aid – but she wanted to go in with a plan.

Given the small size of the ship, Data could man the Bridge alone until the senior officers established a course of action.

An hour later, Data was still manning the Bridge alone when he intercepted another message.

A final message.

It was a woman's voice.

Data felt confident enough in his ability to read human behaviour to say that she sounded frightened.

And tired.

"We suspect the Romulans are blocking our transmissions," she reported.

The Klingons had managed to scramble two ships to aid in the defence of Narendra. They had tried for more, but the Romulans destroyed most of them before they could get out of spacedock.

"Again, this is the Enterprise requesting emergency assistance from any and all Federation vessels in the area for the defence and evacuation of the Klingon colony Narendra III," she repeated.

She paused.

"This is Lieutenant Data of the USS Trieste. We are three hours and eight minutes from your location," Data replied.

On the Bridge of the broken Enterprise, Tasha Yar paused. Her hand hovered above the button to respond.

It was a relief to hear a friendly voice.

Yet Tasha was simultaneously terrified.

In this timeline, she hadn't met Data yet. They wouldn't meet for another twenty years. Tasha had to tread carefully.

"It's good to hear your voice, Trieste," Tasha said.

The Romulans had deployed a device to jam subspace communications. It was an effort to the arrival of any Klingon reinforcements.

The Enterprise had managed to destroy the device, but the Romulans were already preparing a second one.

In truth, it was Data's voice that was a relief – not just the fact there was someone out there.

Tasha couldn't help but smile.

Data was a dear friend. And Tasha was one of the only people on the ship that treated Data like a person.

Aside from Captain Picard and Guinan, Data was the only person she had spoken to before departing the ship.

Captain Castillo had asked that they send a letter to his mother – no details, no specifics. It would arrive anonymously under the guise of having been discovered on file years later.

Castillo had entrusted this to Tasha. Tasha in turn, entrusted it to Data.

"You are leaving?" Data realised.

"Yes," Tasha answered.

Data glanced down at the message in his hand.

"If you succeed in restoring the timeline then we will not even realise this has occurred," Data warned.

Tasha grinned and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"You know, I think I could have really gone for you in another life," Tasha said with a warm smile.

A blast rocked the ship, and it was enough to tear Tasha out of her memories.

"You must protect Narendra III. Do you understand? Starfleet needs to send every available ship here," Tasha said.

"We have relayed your message and are awaiting instruction," Data responded. "Captain Shahwani anticipates the Willamont and the Puget will arrive in nine hours."

Tasha chuckled.

She and Castillo exchanged a knowing look.

The Enterprise would be lucky to last another nine minutes.

"Be advised, we've expended our photon torpedoes. We've sustained serious damage to the hull and there are several breaches in critical areas," Tasha reported.

Acting Captain Castillo was already pulling double duty at the helm. There were so few of them left alive and conscious that they were struggling to put up much of a fight.

Another powerful disruptor blast shook the Bridge – sending Captain Castillo to the floor after his head smacked the console with a sickening crunch.

Tasha rushed over to him to assess the damage.

There were sparking, crackling wires. The lights flickered. The klaxons blared as two of the remaining Bridge crew tried to prevent a plasma fire from reaching the power cell in the Operations station.

Meanwhile, Data's voice rang out as he tried to establish communications again.

Tasha grabbed Lieutenant Castillo's body and hauled it to the nearest emergency evacuation pod.

She barked at two officers – Parker and Ghost – to get the injured into the escape pods.

Tasha broke the glass on the wall next to the emergency alert system to signal to the rest of the ship.

"Computer relay message all decks – I'm issuing General Order 13. Abandon ship," Tasha declared.

After laying in a course to ram the nearest Romulan vessel, Tasha tapped the console to respond to Data's increasingly urgent requests for information.

"Trieste, be advised I have issued General Order 13. We are abandoning the Enterprise," Tasha informed him.

Data understood the gravity of that order.

"I have laid in a course to ram the closest warbird. That should allow some of our people to escape," Tasha explained.

It was her way of explaining that the Trieste should search for survivors upon arrival.

"This will be our final message," Tasha relayed.

"Who am I speaking with?" Data asked.

It was customary for officers in such a position to relay one last message. While Data had no family, he understood humans appreciated such a gesture in their final moments.

"Thank you," Tasha said, unsure of what else to say.

"I do not understand," Data confessed.

"Thank you. Thanks for being here with me at the end, Data," Tasha said.

Somehow it felt a little less lonely.

"Your name? At least tell me your name so that I may pass it along to your family," Data pleaded.

The channel went dead.

Tasha Yar looked up at the Romulan ship growing closer in the viewscreen as the Enterprise sped toward its hull.

She closed her eyes and smiled, hoping their sacrifice would be enough to end the war.

Present

"Data?" Tasha asked.

"Forgive me, I was lost in a memory," Data confessed.

Data had been caught up in reviewing that engram. And in doing so, he was struck by how much the woman he'd spoken to – the woman that had presumably died before she could give him a name – sounded like Tasha.

But he knew that was impossible.

And yet.

Data quickly buried the thought. Tasha was already terribly spooked, and Data didn't want to speculate on the improbable.

"You didn't find any survivors?" Tasha asked.

Data shook his head.

"Shortly thereafter we received orders from Starfleet Command to standby," Data explained.

The Trieste and the other ships en route to assist had all been ordered to halt and wait. There was a large explosion recorded on sensors, one consistent with an Ambassador-class warp core detonation.

"The Klingon Empire was under the impression we had attacked. There was a build up on the border and they warned any ship caught crossing would be destroyed on sight," Data recalled.

In the end, the Klingon Empire had granted permission for the Trieste to travel to Narendra III alone and conduct the investigation into the missing ship.

There were rumours of survivors, but nothing had ever materialised. The Klingons claimed it was the Romulans – an assertion supported by the final messages from the Enterprise-C.

The Romulans never acknowledged any participation as such an act would be a direct violation of the Treaty of Algeron.

Both the Trieste and the Klingon Empire found no survivors on Narendra. The station in orbit, the ships, and the outpost on the planet had all been destroyed.

The Federation strongly suspected that the Romulans had carefully cleaned up every last bit of debris from the Enterprise – likely for study & to ensure they weren't implicated.

Probably took every last piece back for analysis & to celebrate their victory.

"In all likelihood the Romulans were responsible," Data theorised. "They established an outpost there in 2345 and were responsible for the attack on Khitomer a year later."

Tasha nodded in agreement.

She knew all about Khitomer and the horrible attack on a civilian Klingon colony. It was the very attack that had left Worf orphaned as a child.

"And you never found out her name?" Tasha inquired.

Data shook his head.

"You know I referenced all the known audio logs of every officer on the Enterprise-C. I could not match it," Data said.

He lifted his eyebrows as his mind began to wander.

"I have often wondered who she was. It is likely she died when the ship was destroyed. However, I feel a sense of guilt that her family likely never received any closure," Data went on.

"That's so sad," Tasha remarked.

She snaked her arms around Data and snuggled down against his chest.

"I'm glad we serve together," she declared.

There were times when being on the same crew was a challenge. Data and Tasha had both promised not to allow their personal feelings to interfere with their duty.

It was difficult.

There were literally hundreds of ways they could be injured or killed. Data had to constantly fight to suppress catastrophising as his brain theorised every possible way Tasha could be hurt.

But there was a sense of comfort that came in knowing they were together on the Bridge and during away missions.

"I wouldn't want to see anything happen to you," Tasha explained.

She paused.

"But somehow not knowing would be worse," she concluded.

2344 | USS Enterprise-C

Tasha Yar closed her eyes and breathed deep.

She had hoped that when this moment came, she would feel a sense of peace.

Instead, Tasha was filled with self-doubt.

Had they done enough?

Would the war end?

Will anyone even remember the Enterprise-C?

The acrid smell of the plasma fire burning at the back of the Bridge choked the air.

"Ninety-eight seconds to impact," the computer announced.

Tasha would have loved to disable the voice announcements for her own sanity. But the order to abandon ship had come about so quickly that Tasha didn't want to deprive the other survivors of their chance to get out.

She flinched when she felt a hand grip her shoulder.

Tasha turned to find Richard Castillo.

He had stumbled out of his escape pod and come back – for her.

"You have to get out of here," Tasha shouted above the alarms.

He was breathing hard. Castillo had taken quite a blow to the head. His vision was blurred, and he'd lost his sense of balance.

It took all of his strength to stay upright.

Tasha slipped her arm under his to support Richard's weight.

If her final act was in getting this young man to safety – then that's what she would do.

Only the closer they got to the escape pod, the more Castillo seemed driven by an otherworldly force of strength to survive.

"Go," Tasha said, pushing him toward the pod.

"Come," Richard said.

He pulled Tasha's arm, refusing to let go of her hand.

"One minute to impact," the computer announced.

"GO!" Tasha roared.

Tasha tried to slip away, but Castillo grabbed her. He threw his arms around Tasha as she flailed in vain to break free.

"No! No, I have to die on this ship!" she shouted.

Castillo clung to Tasha, he wasn't about to let her sacrifice herself without even trying to make it to Narendra III.

"No!" Tasha cried as Castillo dragged her to the pod.

She managed to break free just as they reached the door. Tasha turned back, panting to catch her breath. It was surreal, like time had stopped.

The Romulans had detected the ship was on an impact course and were throwing everything they had at it.

The sirens were screeching, the bombardment from the disruptors echoed with each hit that landed on the hull.

Tasha stared Richard stared at one another as the ship literally broke apart around them.

"Come with me," he pleaded.

"I have to die on this ship. I can't… the timeline," Tasha stammered.

"I think we did our part," Richard said with a weak smile.

"Thirty seconds to impact," the computer announced.

For a split second, Tasha considered his offer. Then she retracted her hand, cradling it close to her chest as her expression changed.

"I can't risk… You have to go, and I have to die on this ship," she concluded.

She took a small step backward to put some distance between them.

"I'm not going to make it now," Richard said, glancing at the viewscreen.

They were dangerously close to the Romulan vessel.

"But I do have time for one thing," he said.

He pulled Tasha into a heated kiss.

And into the shuttle.

Before Tasha knew what was happening, Richard ejected the pod – launching just in the nick of time.

When they broke apart, Tasha instinctively touched her lips. She watched as the explosion flashed, reflected in Richard's eyes while the escape pod drifted in the debris.

They were silent as the ships began to break apart.

It was starting to get hot as the pod picked up speed upon entry into Narendra's atmosphere. The ride was cramped and bumpy.

"We keep saying goodbye. I didn't want to this time," Richard confessed.

Tasha was overcome with a sense of foreboding.

No one knew what happened to people who travelled through time. Records on such incidents were kept sealed.

And for good reason.

"What have you done?" Tasha asked in a hushed voice.