Author's Note: Thank you all for sticking with this story as we progress on!
This chapter is a behemoth. It's also much lighter fare as we see the crew of the Enterprise face off against the crew of the Yamato in a friendly competition.
That's right! We're skipping on ahead to Sucker Punch. This chapter is intended to be a fun romp and break from the heavy material.
We'll swing back and cover Symbiosis before the conclusion of The Complication. But the events in that chapter are flexible enough to allow for some manoeuvrability.
Arsenal of Freedom ran one chapter longer than anticipated and I really, *really* needed to start our next arc soon in order to preserve the larger outline. We'll pick up Symbiosis later.
So here is our roadmap:
Schizoid Man: Data meets Ira Graves, former mentor of Noonian Soong. Data is thrilled to learn more about his father. But Ira's interest in Data goes beyond just a sense of nostalgia.
The crew begin to notice changes in Data's behaviour and want to take action. But Tasha's worried about treading on his rights – even in spite of his changed attitude.
Hero Worship: The Enterprise rescues the sole survivor of the Vico – a young boy who quickly becomes attached to Data. In an effort to suppress his emotional trauma, this young lad decides to adopt an android life.
His presence has a lasting effect on Data – both in seen and unseen ways.
The Late Lieutenant La Forge: A minor mix-up leads to a serious misunderstanding.
Captain, Simple Tailor, Romulan Spy: The Enterprise takes a detour on the way to Pacifica at the urgent request of Captain Rixx where Jean-Luc reunites with his old friend Walker Keel.
When Keel's ship disappears, Jean-Luc launches an unofficial investigation – pulling the crew of the Enterprise into the heart of the Romulan Conspiracy.
The Road Not Taken: The Enterprise investigates a signal in the Neutral Zone and stumbles upon an unusual group - Humans, Romulans, and Klingons – all dead and dying. Among them is a man that claims to be a survivor from an attack that took place on Narendra III twenty-one years earlier.
He's risked everything to warn the Federation of an impending Romulan threat - and he's got an interesting story to tell.
But it's what he doesn't say that leaves Tasha questioning her place in the universe.
Commander Riker blinked slowly. He was having a hard time staying awake. Beverly's eyes felt heavy – and it wasn't just from the long hours she'd put in on her recovery.
Deanna could sense Geordi was drifting under his VISOR. Miles's head dipped sharply before he startled awake.
Across the table, Worf was having a difficult time focusing on the briefing.
I could have been on the holodeck. He grumbled to himself as his thoughts drifted to crystal blue waters and warm sands of his latest Mok'bara programme.
Even Data was struggling to stay interested in their latest assignment – which in and of itself was a considerable feat given that Data could find meaning even in emptiness.
"And lastly, we have the Fount of Divona," Commander Graham explained. "It's a unique star cluster noted for its spring or fountain-like appearance."
He tapped his PADD and pulled up the next slide on the viewscreen.
"First discovered in-" Graham began to say.
"I think I speak for all of us when I say we're keen to leave a bit of mystery," Picard said suddenly.
He sat up and tugged at his uniform.
"Thank you, Commander, for such a thorough presentation," Jean-Luc said.
Beverly covered her mouth with her hand in order to hide a smirk.
"I do have several more slides regarding the formation of the cluster and the third star, commonly referred to as 'Divona's Point' has a fascinating anecdote-"
"Thank you, Commander," Picard said, cutting him off.
Captain Riker began to clap, hoping to usher Graham to move on. Everyone joined in offering polite applause and a round of compliments to the Stellar Cartography team for their work.
"Great stuff!" Deanna said brightly.
"Most intriguing," Data added with a nod of approval.
Upon hearing the applause, Geordi startled awake. He quickly realised he must have missed something as everyone was applauding.
"Congratulations!" Geordi praised.
Miles choked back a laugh. It was obvious Geordi was trying to blend in but had no idea what was going on.
Jean-Luc shared a knowing glance with his Chief Engineer.
He wasn't upset with Geordi – rather he empathised with his team and their position. Adventure & discovery were the reason these people had joined Starfleet.
They were explorers by nature.
And once more, the flagship had been sent on a mundane mapping mission. It wasn't like they were looking for trouble.
Oh no – the team would gladly take the likes of a mundane mapping mission any day over the experience they had on Minos.
But there was a world of difference between mapping an uncharted area and simply reviewing well-established parts of the galaxy.
Space was vast. While only a small fraction of it had been explored, the sheer size of the universe meant that small fraction was still unfathomably large.
And because there were so many things that could happen including natural changes, man-made disasters, territory disputes, and cosmic phenomena, Starfleet liked to routinely remap sections of space that had previously been charted.
It was all about keeping their astral navigational information up to date.
It had been more than a hundred years since Starfleet had officially mapped the Divonian star system. And now a new Enterprise was heading back for that very purpose.
Mapping was hardly a task for the flagship – but at least it wasn't Minos.
"We'll also be stopping off at the Federation outpost on Epsilon Grueshdar for a tactical resupply," Picard added.
The Enterprise had expended considerable tactical resources during the incident on Minos. With the threat of a Romulan conspiracy lingering out there, Jean-Luc wanted to replenish the expended photon torpedoes as soon as possible.
The news of a resupply stop was greeted with tepid enthusiasm from the crew.
As he scanned the table, Jean-Luc could clearly see the physical and emotional fatigue in the faces of his crew.
"I know," Picard said, acknowledging their collective sense of disappointment. "I know this is hardly the assignment you want to take. I know we've been dotting about on these routine mapping missions for months and that their motivation is suspect."
He paused.
"I recognise that a resupply without any sort of shore leave is also a daunting prospect," Picard said. "Which is why I'm tasking Commander Riker to come up with a rotating on-board leave schedule to ensure you all get a bit of a break during the map ping mission."
Miles sat forward and glanced around the table looking for support.
"With all due respect, sir, the problem isn't finding recreational time," Miles began.
Jean-Luc quirked an eyebrow to the Chief. He could always count on O'Brien for his candour.
"We're stir crazy, sir," Miles confessed.
Jean-Luc nodded in understanding.
"And there is nothing I would desire more than to authorise a stop somewhere for a proper shore leave," Picard said.
But he couldn't.
And they all knew it.
It was far too risky to consider recreational leave with fears of a Romulan conspiracy to replace Starfleet officers lingering out there.
Which meant life was on hold. Guinan's planned rendezvous with Lwaxana had been postponed. Commander Riker's fishing trip on Earth was cancelled. Worf had to forgo the annual Bat'leth Tournament on Forcas III.
And Data and Tasha's wedding was on an indefinite hold.
"You're all dismissed," Picard ordered. "Goodnight and try to get some rest."
There would be a great deal of work involved with the resupply – especially given all the heightened security.
But the prospect of a restful night was a tall order.
Even with the holodecks, spa, library, lounges, and all the amenities the Enterprise could offer – it wasn't enough to shake away the Romulan threat that lingered.
As Jean-Luc watched his senior officers file out, he knew that he had to do something to boost morale.
Data was surprised to find Captain Picard at the door.
Jean-Luc had paced the length of his Ready Room for nearly fifteen minutes before marching off the Bridge to do something he really wished he didn't have to.
Well, truth be told it was asking a question he would rather not.
In anticipation of the workload ahead, Data and Tasha were trying to frontload some of their time together that evening.
They knew once the resupply started that their time together would be slim for a few days.
Data had wasted no time slipping out of his uniform and into his dressing gown. Tasha readied the bath while Data used the replicator to assemble a charcuterie tray for dinner.
It had been ten days since the incident at Minos. Data was still working through the emotional trauma of that experience with Deanna.
But his bioplast and skeletal structure had been fully repaired. So Data was looking forward to his first proper soak in a hot bath once again.
He'd been halfway through arranging the various nibbles on a tray when the door chimed.
"Captain," Data said, stunned.
It was so rare for Captain Picard to show up personally at one's quarters. Usually the Captain's presence preceded bad news.
And from the way the vein in Captain Picard's neck was pulsating, Data could sense it was a serious matter.
"Sir?" Data prompted.
Jean-Luc froze.
Now that he was standing there at Data's door, he felt like a fool for dropping by unannounced. It was evident from Data's attire that the Captain had interrupted a private evening.
"Would you care to come in, sir?" Data offered.
No turning back now. Picard reasoned.
He followed Data inside and stopped dead in his tracks after spying the wine on the table.
"May I offer you a beverage? Or a comfortable chair?" Data inquired.
Jean-Luc opened his mouth to speak. But before he could state the purpose of his visit, the door to the bedroom slid open and Tasha emerged from the bedroom.
"Two questions," she began, oblivious to the Captain's presence. "Lavender or rosewater?"
"Rosewater," Data answered without hesitation.
Tasha made a beeline for the food tray and snagged a pickle. Then she turned to the replicator and ordered a whisky.
"Radioactive scorpions or Psychic Sandworms?" Tasha asked through a thick mouthful of pickle.
Captain Picard blinked a few times as he processed this question.
Tasha turned around and stopped chewing. She tensed as she locked eyes with the Captain and swallowed hard.
"Sir," she said with a small nod, hoping to preserve some semblance of dignity.
"We could hit the holodeck? Try out that new marina programme Barclay worked out," Riker suggested. "Lieutenant Anderson said it's just like being back at the Presidio Park in San Francisco."
"Mmm," Miles nodded in agreement.
"I don't know," Beverly said with a sigh. "I'm sure it's lovely. But there's something so artificial about missing the real thing."
She flopped back against the back of her chair as she swirled a glass of white wine. Beverly then turned the window with a faraway look in her eyes.
"There's just something about the real smell of saltwater," she admitted.
"The wind in your hair," Deanna added, sensing where Beverly's thoughts lie.
"The hotdogs on the pier," Riker recalled fondly.
There was a gleam in his eye and a wistful rumble in his stomach. It was a feeling shared by many.
"And those hot peppers?" Miles asked enthusiastically.
"Oh!" Deanna said as that hit on a memory. "That little cart. Big orange umbrella. What was that place?"
"Packo's," Worf said.
A murmur of agreement went around the room.
While Data and Tasha had opted to spend the evening alone, most of the rest of the team had dipped over to the Crusher family quarters for a bite to eat and a round of cards.
"I mean I love all of you, but there's only so many hours that I can spend cooped up here playing cards," Riker said, bemoaning their position.
Somehow just knowing they couldn't take shore leave because of the travel restrictions made it seem all the more frustrating.
"I just wish we had something to look forward to," Beverly said. "People are starting to get desperate. I've had a slew of injuries in Sickbay from folks turning down the safety parameters on the holodeck in search of a thrill."
She flashed Worf a quick look.
He grumbled as he arranged the cards in his hand.
"It was one time," Worf said in a low voice.
Beverly responded with an innocent shrug.
"All I'm saying is that people have a tendency to forgo safety when they're desperate to feel something," she said.
Worf's face flushed and he scoffed in protest.
"I am not desperate," he huffed.
"That's nothing," Deanna said as she waved her hand. "Admiral Nelson here's taken to spending all his free time down on deck twenty-one."
Cetacean ops.
Riker was scandalised but he tried not to show it. In an effort to play it off, he laughed casually.
"Right, well then," Riker said, clapping his hands together.
He was eager to change the subject.
"Nothing to be embarrassed about," Miles. "Sometimes Tuna joins me on my Baja Kayaking programme."
Riker shot Deanna a look.
"Besides, I spent my night doing something useful," Riker sneered. "In any case, it could be worse. I could have spent my night alone hugging a box of bonbons."
Deanna could sense there was anger – real anger – coming off him. It wasn't personal. Rather, it was the culmination of all the resentment and anger that had festered for months between Data's trial, Remmick's investigation, and their incident on Minos.
Will Riker had been through the ringer, often shouldering more than his fair share of the pain.
"What? Nothing smart to say?" Will demanded.
"I think you're feeling a bit overwhelmed, and I think we should all take a step back," Deanna said. "Maybe tonight isn't the best night to do this."
She set her cards down.
"I can tell we're all a bit on edge," Deanna said, looking around the table.
"I'm not on edge!" Geordi said as his body tense.
Miles quirked his eyebrow.
"What?" Geordi asked.
"You were a bit terse with the beta shift when they came on," Miles remarked.
"Because Beasley didn't bother to finish the checklist on his shift the night before. Thought it was only fair I gave him a warning," Geordi snapped, rising from his chair.
Geordi froze.
"What the hell has happened to us?" Geordi asked.
He sat back down and shook his head.
"We're all on edge," Deanna said, echoing her earlier statement.
"I'm sorry," Geordi said.
"Me too," Riker added.
"Same," Worf said, apologising to Beverly.
"Maybe we should schedule something on the holodeck?" Beverly proposed. "We all need a reprieve."
Data and Tasha were sitting next to one another on the sofa. Captain Picard was across from them in the chair. In the centre sat three untouched glasses of wine.
"I have no right to ask this of you," Picard said.
His shoulders slumped. Jean-Luc lifted his head to meet their eyes. For a moment, he remained silent – studying the faces of two of his finest officers.
Picard knew he was about to put them in a difficult position.
But he was desperate.
Tasha reached for Data's hand, gripping it tight, as they braced themselves for the inevitable.
"A wedding on board the Enterprise would be a great opportunity for everyone to share in the celebration," Picard said.
Neither of them spoke.
Jean-Luc cleared his throat.
"I know it's not what you intend," Picard acknowledged. "But you could still have another – private - ceremony on Føroyar."
His brow furrowed.
"I think that having something to unite around would go a long way in lifting this darkness," Picard said.
Data felt an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He was suddenly consciously aware of the pulsing beat of his own power cell.
This was not what Data wanted.
And yet, he felt compelled to acquiesce to the Captain's request.
Tasha was struggling with her own conflicted feelings on the matter.
"What about Miles & Keiko?" Tasha suggested. "They're planning to get married on the ship."
"Months from now on a predetermined date," Picard said.
He'd already approached them about moving the date up. Unfortunately with all the added travel restrictions, Picard was already pulling strings just to provide the opportunity for Miles's father, Keiko's parents, and grandmother to attend the nuptials.
"Because of the arrangements necessary for their families, the date is set," Picard said. "But in your case-"
"We have no family," Data finished for him.
Silence descended upon the trio.
"I'm sorry," Picard apologised. "I didn't mean to.. that is to say, your home is here, and everyone aboard is so fond of you that-"
"It's alright," Tasha assured him. "You don't have to dance around it. And you don't have to try and flatter us."
"Then you'll do it?" Picard asked.
He perked up in his seat.
"It could still be small, intimate," Picard assured them.
"Followed by a large celebration? Ten Forward?" Tasha asked.
"Yes!" Picard said brightly. "It would be an honour to have you wed here."
Jean-Luc leaned back in his seat to await their answer.
"No."
"Yes, sir."
Data and Tasha turned to one another.
"No," Tasha repeated emphatically.
"But we could help-" Data began to protest.
"No," Tasha repeated.
Data cocked his head to the side and studied Tasha's expression. Wordlessly she pleaded with Data for understanding.
"I must retract my earlier endorsement of the plan, sir. My answer… our answer is no," Data said, turning back to Captain Picard.
Jean-Luc opened his mouth to apologise, but Tasha assumed it was another attempt to convince them.
"No," Tasha said in a pleading voice.
Her face contorted as if she were in pain.
"Every moment that we've had, every moment that should be tender and dear and personal has been for somebody else," Tasha said.
She was determined to get her point across.
Her demand for a private wedding was not because of insecurity, vanity, nor ego.
It was about reclaiming something that had been taken from Data and Tasha at every point. There had never been a tender first kiss or memories of awkward, fumbling first attempts at love.
No, those had been taken from them.
"All our lives we've had to share the memories of what should be personal, happy moments because of captivity and cruelty," Tasha said.
She paused. There was a distant look in her eye as she frowned at the far wall.
"Because men find it entertaining to hurt little girls," she went on.
Tasha glanced over at Data. Meeting his eyes, she cupped his face with one hand.
"Or because some men take pleasure in abusing power," Tasha said.
It was a reference to Data's time in captivity at the hands of Bruce Maddox.
"And the moments that should be ours have been the subject of reports and logs, hearings and trials," Tasha said. "They've been studied, mocked, the subject of gossip."
She paused and took a breath.
"And now a matter of Starfleet legal record," Tasha said, her voice full of bitterness.
Their first night together had been the subject of uncomfortable conversations with the Captain, Deanna, and Commander Riker.
The memories of the earlier days of their relationship had been exposed to Lore during the information transfer the brothers shared.
Everything from their first night together through their engagement had been snatched from them.
Tasha squared her shoulders and turned back to Captain Picard.
"Our wedding is for us and us alone," Tasha declared.
"And so it shall be," Picard said with a small nod.
Two hours later, Data and Tasha were lying in bed.
Fresh from the bath and enveloped in fresh pyjamas and warm sheets, they had settled in for the night snuggled close against one another.
Data was lying on his back. Tasha had buried her head against his chest while Data kept one arm draped over her – enough so that she felt safe without being suffocated.
"Do you think I was too harsh with the Captain?" Tasha asked.
"No," Data answered honestly.
He could tell it weighed heavily on her mind.
"Your feelings of guilt are misplaced," Data assured her. "Our duty to Starfleet does not extend to our wedding."
"Right," Tasha agreed.
It was a relief to have his support on that matter.
"Truly, I have you to thank. I am grateful that you remained steadfast in your refusal," Data said.
He kissed the top of her wet hair.
"For which I will forever treasure as you have taught me to assert myself," Data said.
Tasha giggled.
"I'll beat it into your big, beautiful brain if I have to," Tasha laughed.
Data rolled them together, changing positions.
"I find it is difficult to reconcile myself to the notion that I must wait an unspecified length of time before I may take you to Føroyar," Data confessed.
Normally Data struggled to keep his mind occupied while marking the passing of time, counting each second that stood between him and an occurrence.
But in this case Data found himself doubly vexed as it was impossible to know how long they would remain trapped under the travel restrictions.
"But I will wait a lifetime, if I must, to lie with you under that yew tree," Data said.
Tasha smirked.
"And do you plan to spend our wedding night waxing poetic like one of your great Klingon romance novels?" Tasha teased.
Data leaned in close, his lips hovering over her mouth for a moment, almost kissing her before he pulled back.
"No," Data said.
He captured her lips with his own before moving on over the curve of her jaw, eventually making his way to the spot just below her ear.
"I intend to tell you that you are fierce and beautiful," Data said.
Tasha closed her eyes and smiled as he pressed a soft kiss against her neck, lingering longer just because he could.
Tasha felt him smile against her.
"What?" she prompted. "Cat got your tongue?"
"You are awfully lippy for someone who is trembling like a leaf," Data remarked.
Tasha caught his face, forcing Data to look at her.
In a flash, she rolled them back to their previous position.
Tasha sat up and glared down at Data with mock indignation.
"I tremble like a leaf, eh?" she asked.
Data's eyes went wide as Tasha clutched the front of his shirt. She grinned like a cat that had prey in her clutches.
"You're shaking," Tasha observed before adding a cheeky 'Commander.'
Data sat up and pulled Tasha tight against him, snaking his long arms around her back until she was secure.
"I could make you shake apart, Lieutenant," he threw back at her.
"I should be so lucky," Tasha responded.
Data closed his eyes as they rested their foreheads against one another. For a moment, they sat in silence until Tasha began to chuckle.
Her laughter was contagious and before long they were both laughing. The flopped onto their backs in a fit of giggles.
"I shall go mad trapped on this ship," Tasha said.
Data found her hand and brought it to his lips.
"I promise that I will take you to Føroyar," Data said.
The next morning, Data was up early.
He wanted to get a jumpstart on the day in order to knock out all of the log work necessary for a resupply.
As Chief of Operations, Data would be overseeing the entire affair. He'd be working closely with Tasha, Worf, and Commander Riker to get it all done.
Even under ordinary circumstances, resupply missions were a critical security concern. Things coming and going from a ship presented a weak point, an opportunity for sabotage or even accidents that could prove deadly.
But for the moment, Data had concerned himself with more trivial affairs – namely a cup of hot breakfast tea and the morning's Federation news.
There had been increased activity in the Mutara sector – the suspected work of Acamarian raiders. Peace talks between the Moropa and the Bolians had stalled.
A new type of Allium cepa was recently discovered on Davos. Early research indicated it was a hardy crop with promising prospects to help combat famine in dry climates.
And it looked as if the Finglas Firebrands were due to sweep the Alpha Quadrant Parrises Squares Cup.
Tasha emerged from the bedroom.
"Good morning," Data said as she kissed the side of his head.
"Mmm, morning," Tasha responded.
She snagged a fresh Raktajino from the replicator and then slipped into the seat across from Data.
On instinct, they reached across the table, their fingers lightly holding one another as they nibbled on breakfast and skimmed through the morning news.
For a brief moment, the two glanced up. Their eyes met. Data and Tasha exchanged a small smile before turning back to their respective tablets.
It was the moments like this that were a reminder of why Data and Tasha were such a great fit. Things just worked between – even sharing a comfortable silence.
But like most moments of comfort in Starfleet, it didn't last long.
Data was part of the way through a report on the unseasonably heavy rains on Tarlion VII when an alert chimed on the subspace Federation news channel.
Data clicked the blinking alert to open the message. His entire body tensed.
"Tasha?" he prompted.
"I see it," she responded.
Across the ship, Worf had just stepped out of the shower. He towelled his hair dry and threw on his favourite fluffy dressing gown.
He was part of the way through trimming his beard when he heard the alert on his tablet.
Worf put down his trimmer and turned to his tablet.
He grumbled as he read the alert.
This does not bode well. Worf thought.
"You're on that far too much, you know?" Miles teased.
Keiko just chuckled.
He and Keiko were sitting across from one another as they ate breakfast – Miles with his signature bowl of oatmeal, a plate of bacon, perfectly dippy eggs, and a mountain of soldiers.
For her part, Keiko was content with her plankton loaf and seaberries. It was her favourite way to start the day.
"You know, if you used your tablet to look at more than just the game highlights you might find there's a lot of fascinating things out there," Keiko said.
"No thank you," Miles replied slowly. "Breakfast is my time to decompress before I get thrown into the day. I don't need to start it by filling my head with all sorts of things to worry about."
"Well, you're missing out. One of the big headlines this morning is that Finglas is expected to win the cup," Keiko said.
As a native of Finglas, Miles was a diehard supporter of the home team.
"I don't need a news report for that. I could have told you as much after the way they played against Auckland," Miles teased.
Keiko just shook her head and laughed.
Suddenly, her face fell.
"Miles, you're going to want to see this," Keiko said.
He waved her off.
"I'm sure that whatever it is, I'll hear all about it from Data at the morning briefing," Miles said as he reached for his coffee.
"No, you need to read this," Keiko insisted.
She slid the tablet across the table for Miles. He nearly choked on his coffee.
"Bloody hell," he whispered in astonishment.
Beverly hummed to herself as she watered the row of plants that lined the large window in the main room of the Crusher family quarters.
"Da da da da da da dum," she sang.
Beverly frowned as she evaluated the state of her African violets.
"I've neglected you," she sighed.
Her recovery from the incident on Minos was far from complete. Beverly was grateful to be done with the regenerative sleeve for her leg. She was up and walking about again.
Unfortunately, her plants had suffered for it.
In her absence, Wesley had done what he could. But he wasn't great about remembering to tend to the plants when he was far too occupied with the likes of prototype engines and propulsion textbooks.
"Morning," Wesley said as he stepped out from his bedroom.
He made a beeline for the table and immediately poured a glass of orange juice. He snagged a muffin from a plate in the middle. Wesley was only half paying attention to his tablet as he smeared on a healthy amount of apricot jam.
"Hey mum," Wesley said without looking up.
"Hmm?" Beverly responded without turning around.
"I think you're going to want to see this," Wesley said.
Jean-Luc grimaced. He took a slow sip of his Earl Grey.
"Both Admiral Quinn and Lieutenant Commander Remmick, I'm afraid," Captain Varley said.
Captain Picard set his saucer back down on the surface of his desk and then leaned back.
"Starfleet will launch an official investigation, but the initial reports indicate heavy raider activity in the area," Varley said.
He scoffed.
"But you don't believe that anymore than I do," Varley said. "I'll sooner believe a peace envoy from Romulus than I'd buy a group of raiders would throw away an opportunity like Quinn."
Acamarian raiders were infamous for their creative rouses to lure in unsuspecting vessels. A Starfleet Admiral and Lieutenant Commander of the Inspector General's Office would prove valuable hostages.
They weren't likely to kill them when they could be ransomed back for much-needed supplies.
"How did it happen?" Picard asked.
Varley shook his head.
"They left Starbase 47 twenty-one days ago. They never made it to Starbase 114. There was a short rendezvous with the USS Proxima," Varley explained.
He paused.
"But that was fifteen days ago. We don't even know when they disappeared," Varley went on.
The crew at Starbase 114 had waited forty-eight hours before reporting their absence. Such an act was not malicious – rather it was standard procedure.
There were dozens of reasons why ships might go on silent running or be delayed. If every starbase or ship radioed in a missing report each time someone was late, Starfleet would be running itself ragged trying to keep up.
"Fifteen days is a long time," Picard said. "And a large region of space. Makes it difficult to pin down a search area."
"It's proven especially difficult given that Quinn and Remmick were doing their best to fly under the radar," Varley said.
During their last meeting, Quinn had explained as much to Jean-Luc. They were bouncing from ship to ship, working stops in along the way that were along the flight path but not necessary in the flight plan.
Such measures were all an effort to keep their investigation a secret. They couldn't afford to go tipping off the Romulans.
Worst of all was the reality that Admiral Quinn and Mr Remmick could very well have disappeared on their own. Space travel was so dangerous that the possibility of an accident or natural phenomenon destroying a ship or transporting it through a wormhole were very real threats.
There were dozens of possible explanations that were unfortunate rather than malicious in nature.
And both Jean-Luc and Donald Varley knew the odds.
It was highly improbable they would ever get answers.
"You know my people have been cooped up here patrolling the Neutral Zone for months," Varley said suddenly. "Morale's at an all-time low."
"Mmm," Jean-Luc murmured in agreement. "I fear my own crew are starting to suffer under the strain of confinement as well."
They were in desperate need of shore leave – but that simply wasn't an option.
Jean-Luc quickly pushed that aside. They had a far more important matter to discuss.
"Is there any indication of what their business was on Starbase 114? Do we know who they contacted there?" Picard asked.
"The Yamato is going to be in the vicinity of the Agronii system in a few days," Varley said, ignoring Picard's question. "If I'm not mistaken, you'll be passing that way."
"Yes, yes," Picard said dismissively. "We're passing through en route to our next mapping mission. But about Gregory-"
"Quinn gave me instructions to restrict all travel. No shore leave. No transfers," Varley said.
He sat back and folded his hands across his lap.
"But I don't see any reason why two ships couldn't rendezvous for a brief time," Varley remarked. "Might do our crew some good to mingle."
Picard eyed the screen with scepticism.
"Donald-" he said in a slow, warning voice.
"Oh I'm not suggesting we break any rules or violate the travel restrictions," Varley said with an innocent shrug.
A wry smile broke out on his face.
"I just think both our crews could use a bit of reprieve. And what better way to do that than the old Starfleet All-Around?" Varley asked.
Jean-Luc shook his head, laughing.
"Quinn started that," Picard said.
"I know!" Varley said in response. "Where do you think I got the idea?"
"It can't work," Picard said.
The concept of getting their two ships together was a tempting offer. But Jean-Luc was worried about the logistics.
And the risk.
"Of course it can!" Varley insisted. "We could meet up. Broadcast the events on the internal channels. Use the viewscreens in the lounges and people could access them in their quarters."
They may not have the facilities of a Starbase – but both ships were Galaxy class cruisers with plenty of amenities to make it happen.
"What better way to honour Quinn than to pay tribute to something he created?" Varley said, hoping to seal the deal.
The mood suddenly shifted.
"And we could get together during the event. Perhaps dinner one night? Reminisce about the old days with Quinn on the USS Robert?" Varley suggested.
"Ah," Jean-Luc answered as realisation hit.
This wasn't just about morale.
Varley wanted to talk one on one with Jean-Luc. And they needed to have that conversation in a place where the risk of eavesdropping was at a minimum. There was no telling who or what was listening to their subspace communications – even if they used a private, secured line.
There were always ways to listen and the Romulans were the best of all.
For a brief moment, Picard considered this proposal.
It would provide a much-needed morale boost and a sense of camaraderie, shake up the mundane, and give the team something to look forward to.
But there was significant risk in meeting another ship. Quinn had warned Jean-Luc to trust no one. Donald Varley was an old friend – but according to Remmick and Quinn, 'old friends' had a way of changing.
"I'm sorry, it's just not possible. We cannot delay our mission," Picard said, dashing any hope of a reunion.
"You're just scared I'll beat you," Varley teased.
Jean-Luc baulked.
"You can dream, Donald," Picard replied.
The two men laughed.
Varley could see his comment had the desired effect. Once more, Jean-Luc was mulling over the idea. Picard sat back. He crossed his arms and scratched his chin.
"I think it's a brilliant idea!" Riker said, endorsing the plan.
"Indeed, sir," Data agreed. "I believe the crew would find this most entertaining."
"It's precisely what we need right now," Deanna chimed in.
"A distraction," Riker said.
"A bit of silly fun," Deanna added with a grin.
Jean-Luc appeared scandalised.
"A bit of silly fun? Entertainment?" Picard fumed.
He scoffed at the very notion of it. Jean-Luc leapt up from his chair. He tugged down the top of his uniform and squared his shoulders.
"The Starfleet All-Around is a time-honoured tradition," Picard said as he began to pace behind his desk. "A test of our mettle, our physical and mental capacities, a chance to flex our muscle."
Deanna bit back a smirk.
"The All-Around represents everything we are as officers," Picard went on.
Data was listening with rapt attention, completely pulled in by the idea of such an event. He had witnessed them before during his early days as an Ensign – but only as a bystander. Data had never been included.
When the time came to divide up teams, 'the android' was no one's first choice.
"A chance to one-up an old friend?" Deanna suggested.
It was a gamble. There was no telling whether her comment would provoke ire or appreciation from the Captain.
But it was a gamble well played.
"Indeed," Picard said with a wicked grin.
Jean-Luc himself was a champion of Quinn's All-Around during his time on the USS Robert. It was a tradition that had carried over to the Stargazer.
"Number One, you'll serve as Team Captain. You've got three days. And remember, the pride of the Enterprise is on the line," Picard said.
"It's a series of twelve events designed to test the physical and mental stamina of the crew," Wesley described. "Culminating in the obstacle course finale."
His eyes lit up as he talked about the event. It had the whole ship abuzz with excitement.
At present, the gang was all assembled in Ten Forward for happy hour as they discussed the plan.
"Yeah, all these ruddy events an' no badminton!" Miles huffed.
He reached for his pint, grumbling about 'tradition' and 'regulations.'
Miles was furious. The All-Around combined a number of challenges including everything from trivia and chess to the likes of fencing, weightlifting, and rowing.
The two challenging teams had some flexibility in choosing events. Miles still couldn't let go that badminton had been struck from the list.
"Thirteen," Wesley said, correcting him.
"Huh?" Miles asked.
"Thirteen events," Wesley explained. "Mum's convinced Captain Picard to include a baby race. For the little ones. Under three."
"Oh well isn't that just grand," Miles said, rolling his eyes. "We can't do badminton because it's not athletic enough, but we'll all turn out to watch a bunch of lumps in nappies crawl about."
Keiko stiffened. Miles's eyes went wide as he realised he'd gone too far.
"I-I didn't mean that," Miles said quickly.
He laughed uncomfortably in an effort to play it off.
"I just meant what idiot came up with that idea. It's cute but completely impractical," Miles said.
Keiko set her drink down and squared her shoulders.
"I did," Keiko announced.
She stood to go, and Miles knew he'd bungled it.
"Goodnight, everybody. I'm due to meet Beverly to plan our idiot idea," Keiko said.
"Honey, wait! No, come back!" Miles said as he rushed after her.
The rest of the table turned back to themselves, hiding their smirks behind their glasses.
"Anyone ready for another round?" Guinan asked as she approached the table.
There was a collective murmur of approval from the table.
"You're all getting pretty invested in this, huh?" Guinan remarked.
She had observed them pouring over possible team rosters and squabbling about plans for the team kit.
"What do you think?" Riker asked.
He valued her opinion.
"I think you should let Data handle the kit and flag," Guinan suggested.
Data perked up.
"He's the most creative of you lot and the only one I'd trust to get it done in three days," Guinan added before returning to the bar.
It was easier said than done.
Two days later, the team was less than twenty-four hours out from their rendezvous with the Yamato. In the days leading up to the competition, the Enterprise had been a flurry of activity.
Commander Riker was counting on the team to put their talent to good use.
Unfortunately, the best laid plans had quickly devolved into disaster.
Will had delegated duties to the other officers by appointing them captains of the various teams that would compete. They were to oversee recruitment and training and report back to Will in order to keep him apprised.
Deanna was in charge of the chess team and was finding it difficult to drum up enthusiasm. Far too many of the best chess players aboard viewed Deanna as something of a chess imposter. They felt her empathic abilities gave her unfair advantage.
She was one of the only people aboard to ever defeat Data – a fact some blamed on her abilities rather than her chess prowess.
True or not, it was starting to hurt turnout for the chess tournament portion of the event.
And that was far from the only issue.
Miles was in charge of the rowing team for the crew event. There would be teams competing in single, double, and quad scull events.
Given Geordi's enthusiasm for the sport, Miles had asked Geordi to be a part of the quad team. But close quarters and the pressure of the time crunch had led to hot tempers between the two.
There had been a disagreement over training style and now Riker didn't know if they had a quad team at all now that Geordi and Miles weren't speaking to each other.
It was a problem.
But for the moment, it was hardly the biggest problem.
Tasha and Worf were at one another's throats. And unlike Geordi and Miles who had enough sense to separate, the two Security officers were both too stubborn to step away.
"I am not offended," Worf snapped.
"Then stop sulking," Tasha snipped in response. "You've been huffy ever since this morning."
"Klingons don't sulk!" Worf declared.
Commander Riker could hear them all the way down the corridor as they approached. He was waiting inside Data's quarters on orders from Data to meet him there.
The door slid open, and Worf and Tasha entered fresh from their top-secret training session.
"All I said was that Di'oma was our best bet against their ringer. If he's half as good as they claim, we're in trouble," Tasha argued.
Worf said nothing in response. He knew Tasha was right – but the way she had asserted her position had rubbed him the wrong way.
Worf and Tasha were both still working to build up the muscle mass they had lost during the incident with the nanocytes and Wesley's prototype suits.
Years of training had quite literally been eaten away.
While they were back in fighting shape, the two friends were far from the peak physiques they had worked for (and had) only months earlier.
"Di'oma had you flat on your back even when you weren't underweight," Tasha pointed out.
She threw off her headband and punched in an order at the replicator. From his position on the sofa, Will could see Worf was fuming.
Well, fuming was an understatement.
He was nearly apoplectic behind her. Tasha was probably one of the only people aboard with zero qualms when it came to tiptoeing around Worf's feelings.
"And I seem to recall you got lucky," Worf hissed.
"Of course I did," Tasha acknowledged.
She turned and thrust a steaming Raktajino into his hands.
"Neither of us are in fighting shape. That's just a fact, Worf. It's nothing personal," she said.
"You beat him on a technicality. We're supposed to be co-captains," Worf argued.
"And in my role as co-captain, I offered an opinion," Tasha retorted.
Worf squeezed his Raktajino too hard, and it started to leak out the top.
"Careful, you might burn yourself. Gods know your skin isn't all that thick," Tasha spat.
"You had better focus on your landing. Your form was off today," Worf barked. "Gods know if you fall, your skinny little arse might break."
The door slid open once more and Data entered with Doctor Crusher in tow.
It wasn't a moment too soon – Riker was concerned that Worf and Tasha were about to turn to blows.
"What's the problem?" Beverly asked with a nervous smile.
Both Worf and Tasha started to argue at the same time.
"Excuse me!" Commander Riker said loudly.
The room fell silent.
"Word is the Yamato's got a ringer for the sparring portion of the competition," Riker started to explain.
"Ensign Milo Donovan," Tasha interjected. "A former heavyweight boxing champion."
"A most formidable warrior," Worf added.
The two fell silent as Riker shot them a warning look.
"Anyways," he continued in a terse voice. "We're having a spot of trouble working out the roster for the sparring competition."
Beverly blinked in confusion. She didn't understand what the big deal was about.
"What's the problem? Why don't you both just compete?" she asked with a shrug.
It was the wrong question at precisely the wrong time.
As the argument resumed Riker pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd been listening to it for the better part of the day and had reached his limit.
"I'm not saying Worf can't fight. I just think we'd stand a better chance if we pair Lieutenant Di'oma up against Donovan," Tasha shared in hopes of justifying her opinion.
"Oh, the one you beat at the sparring competition," Beverly nodded brightly.
Her face fell.
"I just meant that, erm-" Beverly stammered.
"On technical points. And luck," Tasha replied. "And in any case, I'm still a good thirty pounds lighter than my fighting weight and-"
"Twenty-seven point three," Data chimed in.
Everyone stopped.
"Twenty-seven point three. Not thirty," Data corrected. "At least, you were when I picked you out of the bath last night and-"
Data stopped as he caught sight of Tasha looking mortified.
"And it is not important," Data added quickly.
Riker flopped back down on the sofa and rubbed his temples.
"Please tell me the two of you are here with some good news," Riker said.
Data was in charge of the team kit and flag. He'd recruited Beverly to help given her experience with theatrical costumes.
"Indeed we are," Data said.
Beverly reached into the bag she was carrying. She pulled out two packages and threw them at Worf and Tasha.
"I think you're going to love them," Beverly said with an air of authority.
She looped her arm through Data's and grinned.
"Data told me all about your routine and we spent the whole morning working on these," Beverly said. "I think they really capture the spirit of your act."
"It's not an act, it's a sport," Worf replied in a stiff voice.
"Of course," Beverly acknowledged.
She clapped her hands together.
"Come on, come on. Try them on!" Beverly encouraged.
Worf and Tasha ripped open the packaging. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke as they held up the small, tight, sparkling costumes.
"No," Worf said.
"Nope," Tasha echoed.
Beverly was stunned.
"I assure you they are tailored to your size and ergonomic, designed for comfort and ease of movement," Data said.
"They're beautiful. You two are going to look so refined," Beverly urged.
She took the uniform from Worf and held it up against his body.
"This is figure skating. You're supposed to be graceful, elegant," Beverly said.
"I can do all of those things without looking like a fairy," Worf replied.
Will was about to lose his cool.
"Well you'll have to suck it up because we don't have time to make anything else. In any case, they're just costumes," Riker said.
Worf and Tasha turned to each other and nodded. In one fell swoop, they tossed their costumes at Riker.
"Then you can be the one to represent the Enterprise in the figure skating competition," Worf announced.
Will blanched.
"You can't quit!" Riker exclaimed as he jumped off the sofa.
Will looked to Tasha for support.
"Don't look at me," Tasha replied. "I've already told you I think Worf's overdoing it with you putting him in five of the competitions."
Worf was deeply offended.
"Overdoing it?" Worf scoffed.
The argument was about to start all over again when the door flew open, and Captain Picard marched inside.
He was dressed in his fencing uniform with a foil in hand.
"Captain," Riker said, straightening up.
Everyone was suddenly standing at attention.
"You named BARCLAY the fencing captain?" Picard roared.
Riker laughed nervously.
"Well, sir-"
He fell silent as his mouth went dry.
"Mr Barclay is an accomplished fencer," Data chimed in.
"Nobody asked you, Mr Data!" Picard snapped.
"What's the problem, sir?" Riker inquired.
Jean-Luc's anger evaporated. The storm that had surrounded the Captain as he blew into the room had simply disappeared.
Beverly was the only one that felt confident enough to voice a theory.
"Did he ruffle your feathers, sir?" Beverly asked.
"He told me my form needed work," Picard confessed. "I've been fencing since that man was in the cradle!"
"He is good," Riker said. "And I want to encourage him a little. You know, help him come out of his shell."
Jean-Luc pulled himself up to his full height.
"Then he can be the lead fencer," Picard declared. "I quit."
Riker threw his hands up.
"Great! What am I supposed to do now?" Riker asked.
"Would now be a good time to look at my proposals for the team flag design?" Data asked. "I've narrowed it down to three thousand eight hundred and seven finalists."
Will Riker was on a real time crunch. He had a deadline – less than twenty-four hours in fact – until the Enterprise was due to face off against the crew of the Yamato.
So Will spent the day leading up to the event by making amends to the crew.
He'd apologised.
And flattered.
Begged. Pleaded.
He'd even grovelled.
The next morning, the team (once more a team) was assembled in Ten Forward for a rather awkward breakfast. Everyone was quiet as they nibbled at their breakfast.
The ship had just met with the Yamato and Captain Picard wanted to greet the team from the Yamato personally.
Given the size of the group that would beam aboard, Jean-Luc had suggested Ten Forward as the location for their first meeting.
"Head's up," Geordi announced, tapping Miles's arm.
Captain Picard, Captain Varley, and the team from the Yamato stepped into the lounge – including Ensign Milo Donovan.
"Jaysus," Miles exclaimed under his breath.
His spoonful of oatmeal stopped halfway to his mouth.
Tasha didn't want to turn around and stare. She knew it was rude. But that did little to sate her curiosity.
"Oh my," Beverly said, following Miles's line of sight.
"He's huge," Geordi whispered.
"How big?" Tasha asked.
"Big," Riker answered without tearing his eyes away from Ensign Donovan's impressive physique.
He was at least the same height as Worf – if not a bit taller. And there was little left to the imagination with the way his uniform clung to his rippling biceps.
"How big?" Tasha pressed.
"Big, big," Geordi said as he motioned with his hands.
Tasha dropped her fork in frustration and rolled her eyes.
"Oh for the love of-" Tasha began to grumble.
"He could be a Dyson Sphere if he wanted," Miles said in an effort to clarify.
Geordi gave a long, low whistle.
"That's underselling it," Geordi remarked.
For once in his life, Worf wasn't the biggest person in the room. It was an odd experience to be physically outmatched in such a fashion.
Worf was already feeling stuffed from a proper big breakfast. But the appearance of Ensign Donovan was a bitter reminder of Worf's own physique and the struggle to bulk up again.
So he reached for a plate of eggs in the centre of the table and filled his plate. Tasha bit back a grin as Worf started to shovel them into his mouth.
The door to Ten Forward opened once more and Deanna strolled in fresh from her morning routine. She was the first to greet their guests.
As the petite counsellor stood next to the former heavyweight champion, it further highlighted just what a challenge the Enterprise crew were up against.
Curiosity finally having won out, Tasha turned around to see what all the fuss was about. After a quick peek, she turned back to her plate looking thoroughly unimpressed.
Riker scoffed in disbelief.
"You can't tell me that you're not the least bit… I mean, T," Riker said.
Tasha shrugged.
"He's got nothing on Data," Tasha said as she flashed Data a knowing smile.
"Absolutely not," Commander Pennington said in a firm voice.
After a series of informal introductions, the two teams had sat down to discuss the terms of their competition and finalise the preparations.
Commander Pennington, First Officer of the Yamato, and Commander Riker were leading the discussion.
Things had been going swimmingly until the rosters were exchanged.
"Look, no offence, but it's an unfair advantage," Pennington explained. "Surely you can see that."
Tasha nodded slowly.
"Mmm, unfair advantage," she said. "Like a ringer?"
She turned her attention to Ensign Donovan who was seated at the far end of the table.
Pennington chuckled.
"Lieutenant, our ringer happens to lift a lot of weights. Your ringer could rip through the hull of a starship in seconds," Pennington pointed out. "It's hardly fair."
The team from the Yamato had requested that Data be stricken from the roster. They felt that as an android, his strength and speed provided an unfair advantage.
"I am capable of manually decreasing my strength and speed output to match human standards," Data offered.
He was so desperate to participate.
It was all he'd talked about for the last three days.
Data had served on ships before where the All-Around Competition had been a tradition. And time and again Data had been excluded.
But this time was different, and Data had his heart set on being included.
"With all due respect, the notion that you can simply adjust your strength and speed doesn't really inspire confidence," Pennington said.
"Come now, surely we can find a compromise here," Varley said, weighing in.
"Mr Data is a valued member of my crew," Picard said. "And our team wouldn't be the same without him."
Pennington turned to address Data directly and smiled.
"I'm sure you are. We're all looking forward to spending time with you, sir. You're most welcome to be a part of the rest of the festivities," Pennington said. "But we've agreed, as a team, that it's just not fair."
His expression softened.
"We can't compete against you. You're out of our league," Pennington said with a polite smile.
It wasn't his intention to make Data feel like an outsider. Pennington was doing his best to present their case in a courteous manner.
Data recognised this. But it still served as a bitter reminder that he would always be an outsider. And after days of anticipating such a fun event, having it snatched away at the last second was a huge blow.
"And that's final?" Riker asked, making no attempt to hide his displeasure. "You won't play unless we agree to cut Data from the team?"
Pennington nodded.
"Yes, sir," Pennington said.
Data knew everyone was counting on the games. They were like mini-Olympics. The crews of both ships was eagerly anticipating the start of the festivities.
There was to be an opening ceremony celebration held on both ships. They would broadcast them simultaneously. People were already planning watch parties, painting their faces, and sporting team colours with pride.
And there was an extensive underground gambling ring that had cropped up in the wake of the announcement.
Data also understood that Captain Picard was counting this to go through.
"I understand," Data announced. "I look forward to supporting the rest of you. However, I can see this is not for me."
Given his stoic nature, the crew of the Yamato were completely unaware of just how hurt Data was at the notion of being left out.
But his teammates could recognise the pain in his voice.
"I don't really think this is for me either," Tasha said.
She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.
"Well, that's unfortunate," Pennington said. "I was looking forward to your participation. But I understand and respect your choice, Lieutenant."
"Tasha-" Data began to protest.
Dropping out of the competition was regrettable. However, Pennington could understand her reasoning. It wasn't as if Data and Tasha's relationship was a secret anymore.
The rumours about the sentient android & the Enterprise's Security Chief had made their way from ship to ship and starbase to starbase – further fuelled by two highly-public hearings.
Pennington had expected as much and was prepared for the possibility that Tasha would take Data's exclusion hard.
What he wasn't prepared for was just how willing the rest of the team was to back Data up.
"Upon further consideration, I find myself in agreement. I don't think this is for me," Deanna said.
"Me neither," Geordi said.
"I may have overestimated my recovery," Worf lied. "Perhaps I should withdraw?"
"Aye," Miles nodded, rubbing his shoulder. "Old injury and the like. Something just doesn't feel right about going forward."
"Yeah," Barclay agreed with uncharacteristic confidence. "And we're not playing unless all of us can!"
Pennington blanched.
Will Riker was beaming.
At the end of the table, Jean-Luc was sporting a satisfied smirk.
"Well, Donald. It was a fine idea. Unfortunately, it just doesn't seem like it will work out this time," Picard said.
Varley turned to Pennington and quirked an eyebrow.
"You're really that scared of losing?" Varley asked.
"Well, I, uh," Pennington stammered, looking around to his teammates for support.
"I'm fine with it," the Yamato's Second Officer said.
"I've no problem with the android-" the helmsman stopped and corrected himself. "Sorry, eh, Mr Data, competing."
"Well I do!" a voice chimed in.
It was Lieutenant Haymer, Chief Science Officer aboard the Yamato. She sat up and studied the faces of the Enterprise team.
"I think we all see what you're trying to do here. It's admirable. Really," she said. "But you can't ask us to go up against a team with such an unfair advantage."
"It's all of us or none of us," Riker declared.
Geordi shrugged and flashed the other team a broad smile.
"If you can't agree to our terms, we understand," Geordi said innocently. "We'll just tell the rest of the team you were too scared. There's no shame in it. After all, we have such an unfair advantage."
It was exactly the sort of knife twisting needed – and Geordi was the perfect one to deliver it. His genial attitude and reputation meant it came across precisely as intended.
Pennington looked Data up and down.
"Fine. But you better make good on that promise to play at our level," Pennington said.
With all matters settled, the two teams dispersed.
Captain Picard retired to his Ready Room accompanied by Captain Varley.
"Tea?" Picard offered.
"Do I look like your grandmother?" Varley quipped.
"You're a dead ringer," Picard teased in response.
Varley threw his head back and roared with laughter. Jean-Luc set the tea aside in favour of a dusty old bottle of whisky.
"That's more like it," Varley said.
"It's been too long, my friend," Picard remarked, handing Varley a glass.
"Agreed," Varley replied.
Jean-Luc sat down behind his desk and took a small sip. He rarely drank whisky. When he did, it was usually just with old friends.
Varley watched as Picard shuddered. The smoky amber liquid was a shock to his tastebuds. Meanwhile, for his part Varley simply smacked his lips in appreciation.
"What's wrong, Jean-Luc? You don't like this stuff anymore?" Varley asked. "You sure drank enough of it your youth."
"Indeed I did," Picard responded with a smirk. "I'm afraid my palette is a little more accustomed to wine now."
"You know, you got older and wiser," Varley said. "I just got old."
Jean-Luc raised his glass.
"To experience," Picard said, offering a small toast.
"God knows we're going to need it," Varley responded, lifting his own glass to Picard.
After slamming their drinks, Jean-Luc poured them both another dram.
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about? Or did you just come here to drink my Aberfeldy?" Picard asked.
Varley glanced down and watched the liquid roll about as he swirled his glass.
"How would you like to get breakfast with me? I'll host," Varley offered.
"Donald," Picard said in a terse voice. "I really don't like all this cloak and dagger routine."
Varley lifted his eyes to meet Picard's gaze.
"Who's the most straightforward person you know?" Varley demanded.
"You," Picard answered without hesitation.
Varley let the comment hang in the air for a moment.
"Donald, we're already risking drawing attention to ourselves by meeting like this," Picard said. "I don't see why we should-"
"Trust me," Varley implored. "If I, of all people, feel a little stealth is required, that's because it's necessary."
Data was standing in front of the mirror in his quarters. He combed his hair back and then ran his hand along the side to smooth it down.
Then he squared his shoulders and studied his appearance in the mirror.
While he normally wore gold, Data had to admit that he looked good in red. The deep crimson colour of his team kit complemented his dark hair and made him appear almost warmer than his usual gold uniform.
Red had been the Captain's choice when it came to a colour for representing the Enterprise.
For their part, the Yamato crew had opted for white and gold to represent the ship.
Data still couldn't decide if he wanted to keep his sleeves rolled up or if they looked better down.
They had used the replicator to fashion all the necessary pieces. Everyone on the team had been issued an athletic jumpsuit as part of their team kit.
Crimson red shirts and overalls, scarves, hats, and pennants had started to crop up all over the Enterprise as the crew got into the spirit of things.
Tasha stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she watched Data fuss with the sleeves.
Rolling, unrolling, and rerolling as he tried to decide what looked best. He finally decided to leave one down and one up as he turned side to side to compare them.
This was the first time Data had ever been a part of a team and he was keen to do his best.
Data frowned. He dropped both his arms to the side as his shoulders slumped.
Tasha stepped forward and reached for his sleeves. She cuffed them up and then wrapped her arms around his waist.
"You look very handsome," she commented.
The pumping rhythm of Data's coolant system skipped a beat.
"Ready to kick some Yamato butt?" Tasha teased.
Data's eyes lit up.
"Indeed. I believe I am ready," Data said.
"Go get 'em, tiger," Tasha said, giving him a playful swat on his way out the door.
"And we'll really shake 'em up when we win the All 'round Cup, 'cos the Enterprise is the greatest team!" Miles belted out.
He was standing atop the table in Ten Forward, leading the rest of the assembled group in song.
"Hey hey!" Miles shouted at the end as he lifted his pint glass into the air.
A roar erupted from the crowd.
By the time Tasha and Data reached Ten Forward, it was packed. They slipped into the crowd and managed to push their way through to the bar.
Guinan had a glass of whisky and a pint of stout on hand for Data and Tasha.
"Saw you come in," she said with a knowing smile.
"Thank you," Data said.
Stumbling through the throngs of drunk and excited crew members, Data and Tasha worked their way over to the far corner where Counsellor Troi, Doctor Crusher, and Worf had a table.
Everywhere people were chanting, toasting, and waving their scarves.
Deanna looked pleased with herself.
"D?" Tasha prompted.
"There's this great sense of camaraderie, of home," Deanna shared. "I can sense it here and on the Yamato."
She closed her eyes and relished in the feeling.
"It feels wonderful," Deanna said.
Tasha felt like she was at a Parrises Squares game. Nearly all the chants were the same. Miles had simply adapted them to replace 'Finglas' with 'The Enterprise.' The crowd had been whipped up into a frenzy.
Shortly before 15:00 hours, Captain Picard waded in through the sea of people. Miles vacated the table so the Captain could address the crowd.
Captain Picard raised his hand and the room fell silent.
"Right now over on the Yamato, our counterparts are gearing up for the first competition," Picard began.
Once the opening ceremony was complete, the two teams would compete in the first competition of the games – tennis doubles.
Geordi and Doctor Crusher were facing off against Commander Pennington and the Yamato's Chief of Operations.
"Now they're a fine crew," Picard went on. "But they don't have what we've got-"
"Determination!" someone shouted.
"Spirit!" Hawk hollered.
"Data!" Lieutenant Jae shouted.
The room erupted with laughter. Tasha flashed Data a smirk. Word of the minor spat (and the team's all or nothing terms) had spread like wildfire through the Enterprise. For many, it was seen as a first victory in the All-Around Competition.
"Here, here!" Miles cheered as stomped his feet against the ground.
"Yi yi yi yi ya y iyi ya yow!" Geordi shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Alright, alright," Picard said, imploring the crowd to settle. "Indeed. We have all of those qualities in abundance as well as an excellent team – including Lieutenant Commander Data."
Data felt a bit lightheaded as everyone clapped and cheered.
For me. He realised.
It was quite a turnabout from where he'd been a year earlier.
At one time, most of the crew would have gone out of their way to avoid talking to Data – dodging him corridors, choosing a different table in the canteen, and steering clear of any extra assignments that fell under his purview.
Now he was truly their golden boy, the beloved figure that was adored by crew and civilian personnel alike.
It was all he could ever hope for and more.
"Indeed, it is you. All of you. It is my honour to serve as Captain of such a fine group and I know you will make the Enterprise proud," Picard said.
Jean-Luc turned to Data and motioned that it was time.
Data got up from his seat and handed a flag over to Captain Picard. It was folded in a way that obscured the final product. After three days of work on Data's part, it was time for the big reveal.
"Are we ready Mr La Forge?" Picard inquired.
"Just say the word!" Geordi replied.
Once the flag was unveiled, Geordi was going to activate a giant device. It was a series of lighted probes that had been carefully parked between the two ships – a modern take on the ancient Olympic torch.
They were arranged in an aesthetically pleasing layout and would remain lit for the duration of the games.
"Now then, I tasked Mr Data with designing a team flag for the Enterprise. Something that would capture the spirit of the moment and our determination," Picard said.
Picard took hold of one end while Commander Riker held the other.
"May I present the flag of the Enterprise!" Picard announced.
It only took a few seconds for the thunderous applause to slow to an awkward pace as everyone blinked in surprise, frowning as they tried to decipher the origins of such an obscure design.
Tasha could sense Data was disappointed.
"I have failed," Data whispered.
"No, no. It's um… it's very unique," Tasha said.
"And well-made," Deanna assured him.
"It's a goose," Beverly said, stunned.
"A most formidable creature," Worf said, impressed.
Tasha's head whipped around to shoot Worf a look of surprise. His comment had, in fact, been serious.
"What?" Worf asked.
"The goose is a symbol of vigilance. Heraldic geese have long been used as a sign of luck on Daltos IV. And on Trisphius IX they are one of the most sacred birds," Data explained. "Renowned for their aggressive and relentless nature."
"And is that a pineapple?" Beverly asked as she tried to piece together the odd design.
"Indeed it is," Data said brightly. "I feared the Goose may be too intimidating. By contrast, pineapples symbolise hospitality and celebration. I did not want the crew of the Yamato to misinterpret our intentions."
Data smiled as he gazed upon his flag.
"My goal was to capture the essence of this team spirit," Data shared.
Tasha bit back a grin. Beverly was still trying to wrap her head around it. Deanna choked on her drink.
"Oh I think you did just grand," Tasha said, patting his arm.
"Let the games begin!" Picard declared.
Geordi punched the remote and the probe sculpture lit up, casting a bright glow that reflected in the faces of the people in Ten Forward.
Data and Tasha exchanged a glance. Under the table, he squeezed her hand. For the time in weeks, everything felt right.
By the end of the first night, the Enterprise and the Yamato were tied, locked in a dead heat.
An early victory in the Tennis Doubles courtesy of Doctor Crusher and Geordi hadn't been enough to stave off defeat in the weightlifting and rowing competitions.
The weightlifting team of Lieutenants Jae, Worf, Hawk, Di'oma, and Solis hadn't been enough to topple the extraordinary strength and size of Ensign Donovan.
High hopes for a comeback during the rowing competition had been crushed in the final leg of the race when the Yamato team had pulled ahead, zipping right past an astonished Miles, Geordi, Data, and Barclay.
But things had turned around during the Parrises Squares match. It was a highlight event and a great finish to an exciting night.
Tasha had initially been worried Worf wasn't up to the task after the weightlifting had left him exhausted.
Never one to accept defeat, Worf had risen to the challenge and stormed the field with the speed and explosive power he was known for.
Tasha had also been a little concerned as this was the first proper match they had played since the death of Lieutenant Olivet. She'd been a critical component of their success in the past.
But Ensign Jeffords had stepped in and proven himself a fierce forward.
They'd won in overtime after an intense shootout and the victory was all the sweeter for it. Tasha had been thrilled after the match when the Enterprise team rushed the field.
Angie Olivet's widow had come, bringing their young son Jack in tow to watch the game his mother had once been so fond of. It was a relief to see they were out and about again, sharing in the activities they had once loved as a family.
The crowd and party had carried over from the holodeck and spilled out into Ten Forward.
"Our team's on fire! Their defence is terrified and our team's on fire! Hoohah!" the crowd sang.
Worf threw back his head and howled. Data was fascinated as he tried to absorb the whole experience.
"Na na na na na na na!" they sang.
Tasha couldn't remember the last time she'd danced in public. But jumping around, knocking into one another, and singing (well, screaming) – it was just like being at a professional Parrises Squares game.
The energy on the ship was high.
"I must admit I am confused. We are tied, are we not?" Data asked.
"Yeah, but that win!" Tasha replied.
Data's brow furrowed. She could sense he was thinking hard.
"But we were defeated during the rowing competition," Data protested.
"But we won the Parrises squares match," Tasha said, trying to explain.
It did little to clear up Data's confusion.
"I do not understand. Both events are of equal point value," Data said.
Tasha stopped dancing. She gripped his hands and leaned in close.
"We won tonight. It's not about the points. It's about kicking their butts, getting the last victory after a helluva game," she said.
"So it is not merely the win itself, but the manner in which it was achieved," Data realised.
"Yeah," Tasha said.
And some victory it was. Data thought as he realised a familiar yet surprising sensation.
He registered the sensation of Tasha's lips against his own. She was kissing him in public – the middle of a crowded Ten Forward, nonetheless.
A victory indeed.
Across the way, Captain Picard was seated at a table with Beverly and Will Riker.
"I thought you'd be the first one out there in the middle of it," Beverly remarked.
Jean-Luc chuckled.
"Hardly," he said.
"You were quite the hooligan back at the Academy – especially when it came to Parrises Squares," Beverly quipped.
Riker smirked.
"Captain?" he prompted.
"Please," Picard said, dismissing the idea. "The day I start singing drinking songs in the middle of Ten Forward is the day you know I've been replaced with an imposter!"