The Complication

by CharlieFenwick

Data struggles to reconcile the discrepancies between Tasha's verbal and nonverbal communication during and after the events of Ligon II. "Am I the 'complication?" Data asked. Data begins to develop emotions. Tasha/Data fluff & angst. Data/Geordi friendship. Covers the events of TNG season 1 with missing scenes, original adventures, and some mild AU retelling of events.

102. Linger On Your Pale Blue Eyes

Author's Note: Thank you so much for your ongoing support on this story. As a note, I'm using "2344" as a time designation simply to more easily separate the shift in time (including the meeting of the Enterprise-C and Enterprise-D). Yes, the Enterprise-C technically came 'forward' but I didn't want to mess with three separate designations.

I want to be clear that Sela is NOT becoming a new focus of this story – just this arc.

This has been (and will always remain) a story of gentleness, joy, and love. There are moments of that interspersed throughout this arc – but it is tragic what Tasha, Castillo, Sela, and the others endured.

These last few chapters have been difficult to pen.

I've been planning them/writing snippets since I first conceived the idea for this story. Nonetheless, it is hard to write. I pretty much sob uncontrollably whenever I have to write Sela in this story.

She's a villain. There's no doubt about it. But in a way, she never had a chance to be anything else.

I've always felt Commander Sela was one of the great unexplored TNG backstories. Like Q and Lore, Sela will be a recurring baddie (and occasional reluctant ally) throughout this series.

We'll see more of her story in The Crease In the Fabric of Time and The Consequence (both of which also expand on Castillo's story as well).

Thank you for all your support as I explore this divergence from canon.

---

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.

---

2344 | Enterprise-D

"Finally," Castillo said as he slipped into the seat at Ten Forward.

He was starving. Tasha was too.

They had tried to grab lunch earlier. They'd come closer earlier only to be paged away for an urgent meeting with Captain Picard.

Now they were free to try again. And after a long, unusual day – even bad rations were welcome.

"I can't say much for the food. But the company…"

Castillo flashed Tasha a cheeky grin.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Am I keeping you from a hot date?" Castillo asked.

"Eat your TKL," Tasha said, pointing at his dinner.

Castillo laughed.

"All business. He must be very good looking," Castillo teased.

Tasha ignored the comment.

"Or she," Castillo offered.

"I don't date," Tasha said with an air of finality, hoping to end the conversation.

"Now that is tragic," Castillo remarked.

Tasha glanced up from her own plate.

"There's a lot of people on this ship that would be grateful for rations like this," Tasha warned.

"Castillo?" called out one of the servers from the counter in Ten Forward.

Tasha motioned with her head for him to go to the counter as she had a mouthful of food. For Tasha, meals were a ritual.

Many of her Terran comrades rejected their TKL rations in favour of treats from home or they used personal income to purchase additional supplies from private dealers. The black market for food was roaring on the Enterprise.

But Tasha had never seen the need for such extravagance. She was grateful for her TKL ration. Because to a girl from Turkana, it was like manna from heaven.

---

Castillo reached the counter and was surprised to find three TKLs and a 'go' pack that was typical for extended away missions waiting for him. The go pack included dried food, high energy protein bars, instant tea & coffee, chocolate, water biscuits & jam, chewing gum, and tobacco.

Castillo frowned as he stared down at the stack of boxes.

"What's all this?" he asked.

The worker seemed confused.

"It's all paid for," the worker said as if that explained it.

"I don't understand," Castillo remarked.

He hadn't spent much time on the Enterprise-D, but it was enough to know that resources were skint.

"Look, I don't understand either, sir. Truly. Lieutenant Yar ordered me to put this together for you. Like I said, you don't owe nothing – it's all been taken care of from her allotment," the worker explained.

Castillo glanced back toward the table where Tasha was stuffing her face with porridge, his expression softened.

"Right, thanks," Castillo said.

He picked up the rations and turned to go – but a hand caught his wrist.

It was Guinan, the mysterious barkeep. Tasha had called her a friend, but she gave Castillo the chills.

Guinan looked around Castillo to the table where Tasha was sitting. She quickly put two and two together.

"Don't hurt her," Guinan said.

It wasn't a warning, but rather a request.

Castillo was taken aback.

"We're just having lunch," Castillo said.

Hell, he was a man from the past. No one knew what happened to those who travelled through time. Castillo didn't know if he would even be around in another two hours.

"Right," Guinan said, eyeing him carefully.

---

"You bought me dinner, Yar? So you do like me," he said with a smug look.

Tasha dropped her fork.

"Don't read into it. You need to eat," Tasha said.

Castillo smirked.

"Alright, alright. If that's how you want to play it – I'll be happy to pretend," Castillo said. "I know this meal wasn't courtesy of your Captain."

Tasha's posture stiffened.

"I think it's really sweet. You wanted to help," Castillo said in earnest.

There was no telling how long they would be aboard or if there was any hope of going back – not that Richard Castillo was eager to return to a battle with four Romulan warbirds.

"Whether you stay or go back, you'll need to keep up your strength. And the gods only know how hard that is on a warship in the midst of battle," Tasha said.

Tasha had been there herself – days on the Bridge, a TLK eaten hastily between blasts.

"Can't say much for the pickles, but when you've been on the Bridge for eighteen hours they're like the best treat in the whole universe," Tasha said.

Castillo laughed.

"You're joking right?" Castillo laughed.

His face fell.

"Right?" he pressed.

Tasha's cheeks flushed.

"No," she admitted.

Castillo was looking at her funny.

Is this pity? Tasha thought.

She loathed pity.

"I suppose things really are different here," Castillo remarked as he looked around the room.

Everything on this ship, this world seemed darker than his own time. There was a spartan-like quality to their lives. These were people that had been living in survival mode for too long.

Castillo turned back to Tasha.

"Really. Thank you. If you're expecting to take me back to your place the answer is yes," Castillo teased.

"Gods you're a cocky thing, aren't you? This morning it was all 'oh I'll never see my family again.' And now hours later you're trying it on!" Tasha fumed in disbelief. "What about that family, eh?"

Tasha shook her head.

"Let me guess, a wife? Kids? Twenty-two years. There's a good chance they're still alive. And they've probably spent this whole time thinking of you," Tasha said.

Her voice was dripping with disdain as Tasha and made no effort to mask her disapproval.

"My mum," Castillo said in a small voice.

It was so unlike his previously self-assured attitude.

"She's uh-"

Castillo stopped and scratched his head.

"Well my dad left when I was little. I… I'm all she has," Castillo confessed.

The chance to sit down and eat had provided Castillo with an opportunity to process what had happened.

For the first time since coming aboard, Richard dropped his personal shields. Tasha was finally getting a glimpse of the real Richard Castillo.

"So the 'call me Richard' bit wasn't just a line," Tasha realised aloud.

Castillo turned away. He pretended to glance at the window so she wouldn't see his eyes well up.

"Maybe I was trying it on. A bit," he said, trying to cover his grief.

Tasha wasn't sure what to say. She had never been good at comforting others. Uncertain of what to do, Tasha reached for his hand.

"I don't know what's going to happen," Tasha said. "And I can't imagine what you're going through."

Castillo laughed.

"This is humiliating. You're the first hot bird I've met in two years that doesn't know I made a fool of myself on the holodeck trying to surf," Castillo shared.

It had been on a leisure day, and more than two dozen crew members had gotten together for an impromptu beach getaway on the holodeck.

Castillo's eyes went wide.

"Dear god. I said that out loud," Richard realised.

His face felt warm.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Fell off the board. One of those endless wave programmes. Injured the dangly bits. Swim trunks so far up my arse everyone got a right peep show," Castillo said.

It had been an embarrassing experience.

"Well," Tasha said, choking on her tea. "Now I know."

They shared a smile.

---

2344 | Narendra III

"Ah," Tasha said.

She tried to reach for the back of her leg but couldn't quite reach it.

"Sh, sh, sh," Castillo said, clutching the back of Tasha's head.

The ride down to the surface had been nothing short of awful. There was high turbulence. It felt like the escape pod had bounced from one piece of debris to the next.

Because there were two people crammed inside, it had been impossible to use the emergency safety straps.

"There's a piece of the panelling stuck in the back of your leg. Don't move," Castillo advised.

Tasha closed her eyes.

Suddenly it all made sense – the warm, wet sense she felt above the back of her knee. It was a reminder of just why these escape pods weren't meant to be shared.

Both Castillo and Tasha were bruised and battered from the ordeal.

"You can't stay here," Tasha said.

The Romulans would be scanning the surface for survivors. It was imperative that they move as far from the shuttle as quickly as possible – a feat that would only be more difficult because of Tasha's injury.

"Medical kit is intact," Richard said.

He could see it from his position. But Tasha couldn't see the point in it.

"Good. Blow the hatch door. Take it and go," Tasha urged.

Castillo frowned.

"I'm going to try and remove it," Castillo said.

"That's great. Hopefully I'll be lucky and bleed out before the Romulans find me," Tasha said in all seriousness.

Castillo said nothing.

Tasha's shoulders slumped.

"Do I have to remind you that I'm not even supposed to be here?" Tasha asked in a heated voice.

She was confused. Frightened. Filled with rage.

Tasha looked up and glared at Castillo.

"You," she said.

Her voice was low, belying the fury she felt.

"You!" Tasha roared, beating her fists against his chest.

Castillo let her go for a few seconds. A part of him knew that saving her, bringing her onto the shuttle would incur Tasha's wrath.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave her there – to say goodbye.

Consequences be damned.

"How could you do this?" Tasha shouted.

"I shouldn't have done that," Castillo acknowledged.

"You're fucking right you shouldn't have- mmmph."

Castillo cupped her face, pulling Tasha into a kiss. She was so stunned she didn't know how to react. When they broke apart a few moments later, neither of them pulled away.

"Just like I shouldn't have done that," Castillo said.

His voice was soft, and his breath was warm against Tasha's face.

A moment later, Tasha registered that he was tying off the wound on her leg – having removed the piece from her leg during the kiss.

Tasha shot Castillo a look.

"I'm not copping a feel. I'm just checking my work," Castillo said as his hand felt along the back of Tasha's thigh.

Satisfied the wound was momentarily stable, Castillo punched open the emergency hatch. Tasha hissed as an icy wind gushed in – cutting right down to the bone.

"Sorry it's not one of those tropical beaches," Castillo said.

Tasha remained silent.

"Do you think you can walk?" Castillo asked.

"You need to go," Tasha said, avoiding the question.

"Well, either way you need to get out first," Castillo pointed out.

He couldn't very well shimmy past her – there was simply no room.

Tasha managed to hobble backward. The cold made it easier not to focus on her wound. But she tripped over the back of the escape hatch.

Castillo's hand shot out to catch Tasha's arm.

"Whoa, easy," he said, pulling Tasha upright.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"You should get moving. It will be dark soon and you'll need to find shelter before then," Tasha said.

She was trying to avoid talking about the obvious by focusing on work. Tasha glanced around.

"Head for that hill. You can use the high ground. Get a lay of the land and plot your next move from there," she said, nodding toward the north.

Her hair had come loose from its sleek pompadour from perspiration and being tossed about. Castillo reached up to tuck it back behind her ear as he studied her face.

"Strip what you can. You may need it to barter," Tasha advised.

Her resolve faltered.

"Do something for me?" she asked as her confidence evaporated.

"Anything," Castillo replied.

Tasha didn't want to ask. She had no desire to reveal something so personal to a man that was practically a stranger. Yet given the circumstances, she felt she had no choice.

"I'm going to try and help you strip as much of this as you can. But if I… if I go while we're working," Tasha said.

She paused and took a breath to compose herself. Tasha straightened herself up and looked Castillo dead in the eyes.

"Leave me out here. Under the sky. Don't bury me," Tasha said in a serious voice.

Tasha lifted her head, glancing up at the dreary grey sky.

"I need to die under the sky. To be in the moonlight," Tasha said.

Castillo didn't understand but he could sense this was important to her.

"Narendra III has two moons," he said, recalling that tidbit of information from their brief prep session while rushing to aid the Klingon outpost.

---

It was hard work stripping the shuttle in such frigid temperatures. Their uniforms weren't designed to provide a lot of protection and Tasha knew Castillo wouldn't make it through the night without some sort of protection from the elements.

Castillo's fingers were numb, and it made the work difficult.

The escape pod was equipped with an emergency pack including a temporary weather poncho that provided some relief.

But it was only enough for one person.

Tasha was part of the way through stripping the safety restraints. She was using them to bundle supplies to make it easier for Castillo to carry.

Suddenly, she felt weak and collapsed against the hull of the pod.

"Whoa, hey," Castillo said, catching her.

He guided Tasha down to sit on the ground, leaning against the pod.

"Just rest here. I'll be done in a moment," he said.

Tasha closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the hull. The ground was cold beneath her, but it felt good on the back of her leg – almost numb.

All too soon, she felt an injection in her thigh.

"Pain reliever," Castillo said, kneeling down next to Tasha.

"Oi! Don't be wasting that," Tasha snapped. "That's valuable. You may need it – for yourself or to barter."

Castillo cupped her face.

"If you truly want to stay here and die then I won't carry you with me," Castillo said.

Tasha put on a brave face, pretending to be relieved. But inside, she wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure Castillo or herself. She had never envisioned death feeling so lonely.

"But I'm staying with you," Castillo warned.

Tasha's lips thinned.

"No argument," Castillo said in a commanding voice. "If that is truly what you want, I won't stop you. But I'm staying with you until you pass."

"Go," Tasha urged.

Castillo didn't budge.

"Why the death wish?" Castillo pressed.

Tasha didn't answer.

"Fine," Castillo said. "If that's really what you want."

"Of course it's not what I want!" Tasha snarled.

She didn't want to be obstinate and angry in her final moments. And she certainly didn't want the last person she would ever know to think that of her.

There were hot tears threatening to spill down over her face.

"I wanted to go to poker Friday. To win the sparring championship next month. I've only been training for the last year," Tasha shouted. "To take my shore leave and maybe, just maybe meet someone nice. Or somebody really interesting."

Tasha had more than ample shore leave saved up.

"Just dinner. A walk in the moonlight. A few days where I could forget about this stupid war."

She paused, overcome by tears.

"You know, I've never even been on a proper holiday? Never seen Risa, Orion, Paris… I spent all my free time at the Academy studying, working, training. Wasted my life for a career I'll never have," Tasha said.

She was bitter.

So very bitter.

"No, I don't have a death wish. I wanted a life of gentleness. And joy. Love," Tasha confessed.

She glanced away.

"But I don't get that," Tasha concluded, her voice tainted with justifiable cynicism.

Castillo was horrified.

"Why are you here? Why did you come onto the Enterprise-C? Why did you come back with us?" Castillo demanded.

The question had burned in his mind ever since she had first beamed over with transfer orders and a profound sense of sadness hidden under a façade of confidence.

"Why?" Castillo pressed.

Tasha just shook her head. She couldn't bring herself to talk about it.

A part of Tasha was kicking herself, wondering if she had made a terrible mistake. Tasha had said goodbye to everyone and everything she had ever known to travel through time on a suicide mission.

And all based on the words of Guinan.

Yet somehow Tasha couldn't shake the feeling. She knew this was right – in spite of how uncomfortable it was to confront that.

Tasha felt terribly small as Castillo thumbed away her tears.

"I have no idea where we are. In all honesty, I think we'll be lucky to survive the night," Castillo said.

It was a frank assessment of their situation but nothing he said was untrue.

"If the elements don't kill us and the Romulans don't find us, there's a good chance the Klingons will," Castillo went on.

Technically, they were still at war. There was a very real possibility that Klingon reinforcements would arrive, scan the planet, and they would wind up dead in a matter of days. Klingons had a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later.

"I don't want to face that alone," Castillo said. "And you… you know so much more about surviving than I do. You're still saving me out here."

Tasha desperately didn't want to be alone. She also didn't feel right being around Castillo.

Meddling with time.

Death was a terrifying prospect.

Yet, Tasha was tempted by the notion of peace.

Castillo took hold of her hands and relished in the warmth.

"I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm truly sorry. You are a beautiful person and we're probably going to be dead in a few hours and I just… I got caught up in the moment," Castillo said.

His expression changed.

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "I'm not asking you to come with me as some schoolboy fantasy. I don't want to be alone."

It was out in the open now.

"And you don't have to be alone right now. You don't have to face this by yourself," Castillo urged.

Tasha mulled over his offer.

"Something about this feels wrong," Tasha said in a hushed voice, almost as if she were afraid that some omnipotent force in the universe would hear her.

"I can't promise you a lifetime of gentleness or joy or love. Hell, I can't even offer you that lousy whisky or burnt toast in the morning," Castillo chuckled and glanced up the sky.

That whisky was destroyed by now.

"We're probably gonna die out here. And if you want that to happen under the sky then let's go find a nice place to set up a fire, crack open these rations," Castillo said.

He flashed Tasha a genuine smile.

"I'll tell you about every holiday I went on. It'll be just like you were there – promise. You can laugh at all my silly attempts to impress you and we'll let the cold take us, eh?" Castillo suggested.

Tasha eyed him with heavy suspicion.

"Promise you won't try to make a move again? No kissing," Tasha insisted.

"I promise," Castillo assured her.

Tasha nodded.

Castillo gripped her hand and pulled Tasha upright.

"Alright, best get a wiggle on," Castillo said.

---

They walked for miles.

The dim sunlight did little for the temperature. Narendra III was bleak. Even the soil seemed grey. In their climb to reach the high ground nearby, Tasha and Castillo had only come across a handful of low shrubs.

Castillo had tried to make conversation in hopes of keeping Tasha conscious.

But she was steadfast in her determination to remain silent.

"Alright, what about San Francisco? The Academy? Is Professor Bertram still in Stellar Cartography?" Castillo asked.

"Look, feel free to talk all you want. Tell me about your mum. Your home. I don't care," Tasha replied in a terse voice.

Castillo sighed.

"So you don't want to talk about yourself. We can't talk about technology. Federation politics is off limits. Sports was a no go," Castillo went on.

He rattled off all the subjects Tasha had refused to discuss. As they walked, she had rejected nearly every subject of conversation.

"What about cold weather procedures? Surely, that can't have changed so dramatically in twenty-two years that-"

"NO!" Tasha barked.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath to calm her nerves.

"I'm sorry for snapping. It's just this is my first time travelling through time. Or crashing on a Klingon planet for that matter," Tasha grumbled.

"What kind of music do you like? Hmm? Come on, you must be able to talk about that," Castillo pressed. "Not like I'm about to rush off and record a hit based on what you tell me."

"Look, temporal mechanics doesn't really come with a manual," Tasha said.

At least on the Enterprise-C, Tasha's mission had been clear. Ever since landing on Narendra III, she felt utterly out of her element.

"The Temporal Prime directive," Castillo offered.

"Point me to the chapter on getting frisky in an escape pod and crashing in enemy territory," Tasha retorted.

Castillo fumbled for a response.

"Well?" Tasha demanded.

When he didn't answer, Tasha knew she had him cornered.

"Exactly," Tasha concluded.

Castillo scoffed in disbelief.

"Personnel are strictly forbidden from directly interfering with historical events," Tasha cited, stating the order word for word.

Castillo and Tasha stopped walking. Balancing mostly on one leg, she glared up at him.

"It's ten words. Hardly a guide," Tasha said in a resigned voice.

She was in over her head, working without a net. Each step felt uncertain.

"Technically, haven't you already broken it just by coming aboard the Enterprise-C?" Castillo asked.

Tasha was practically apoplectic.

"You… I… look there's-" she stammered, trying to justify her reason with having to explain the details.

I took advice from my friend's psychic feelings.

It sounded stupid enough in Tasha's head.

She wasn't about to admit it aloud to someone that couldn't begin to comprehend Turkanan beliefs about duty, debt, and death or Tasha's incessant need for her life to matter.

Even in a small way.

"I was supposed to die on that ship," Tasha said.

It was the best she could muster.

"I shouldn't have-"

She trailed off. Tasha felt humiliated by giving in to that kiss, by allowing herself to take pleasure in something that could have major repercussions.

"Gotten frisky in an escape pod?" Castillo teased, hoping to make her smile.

Tasha glared.

She readjusted her own pack and started to march off.

"Look, we can't change it! It's happened," Castillo shouted after her. "We can just try to make the best of it."

Tonight was probably the last night they would ever have. Richard was exhausted. He would be perfectly content with a small fire, bad instant tea, and good banter with Lieutenant Yar.

Tasha marched with determination to the top of the hill.

She collapsed to her knees.

Castillo was on red alert. He scrambled up after her, presuming she had stumbled due to injury.

But when he reached the spot, he froze. Castillo had been so consumed in helping Tasha stay upright that he hadn't bothered to pay much attention to the landscape.

Now that he had the chance to survey the area, Richard's heart sank.

"There's nothing," he remarked.

No trees.

No rock formations.

There was nothing save for desolate, sparse moorland in every direction as far as they eye could see.

Castillo turned away from Tasha. He ran a shaky hand through his curls before he started to pace.

Narendra III was a frozen, barren planet. He knew that going in. But the reality of just how empty it really was remained a shock.

Castillo kicked the dirt. He clenched his fists and screamed at the sky in a furious rage.

Getting hold of himself, Castillo glanced down at Tasha.

She was still on her knees staring in disbelief.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry," he said, dropping down next to her.

He pleaded for forgiveness.

"I never would have brought you here if I had known that-"

"It's done. We can't change it. No sense in beating yourself up over it now," Tasha said, cutting him off.

Tasha collapsed against his chest.

Castillo froze. Tasha had expressed a desire that he refrain from any sort of contact, and he didn't want to violate that. He was keen to comfort her.

But the desire to respect Tasha was stronger.

So Castillo opted for a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Tasha didn't cry – she was beyond tears. But Tasha was tired, so very tired of fighting to survive.

She glanced out at the horizon where the sun hung halfway up in the sky.

"We need to keep moving. And we'll need to cut every bit of that brush we find," Tasha advised. "It'll be dark in a few hours. The temperature's already begun to dip."

Castillo was surprised.

"You want to keep moving?" he asked.

Tasha sighed.

"The idea of a fire, falling asleep and just letting the cold take over sounds a lot more appealing than Romulan captivity," Tasha remarked.

"Well, it seems some things don't change," Castillo replied. "I take it they're just as nasty in your time?"

He hauled Tasha up to her feet.

"Let's hope we're lucky and the cold claims us before they do," Tasha said as they set off down the hill.

---

Tasha was on her back, staring up at the stars.

They weren't her stars – but there were two moons.

It had been a long hike. Tasha figured they must have covered close to fifteen kilometres. It was torture on her leg, but the cold air helped.

It grew dark early on Narendra III. Shortly before the sun went down they had spied a rock formation in the distance.

It wasn't much – but it provided a little cover.

The hour had been well after nightfall when they finally reached their destination.

Tasha had wasted no time in setting up camp while Castillo collected all sorts of rocks, brush, and supplies at her direction.

He'd been sceptical when she first began to furiously dig a hole for an underground fire. But when Tasha explained it was safer (and warmer), Castillo didn't question it.

He trusted her.

Completely.

But when Castillo grew curious about where Tasha learned her survival skills, Tasha clammed up – ordering him off to collect more brush to burn.

Now Castillo and Tasha were finally able to lay down and rest.

Rations had been cracked open and shared. Richard couldn't remember the last time instant soup hit the spot like it did that night.

He settled back against his pack, using it like a pillow, and checked the timepiece inside his wrist. He watched with giddy anticipation as the second hand ticked away.

"Well, we made it," Castillo said.

He could practically hear Tasha frown.

"It's midnight. We survived," Castillo explained.

Tasha just laughed and shook her head.

"Well I can't say it's entirely been a pleasure. But I suppose in the grand scheme of the universe this isn't such a bad way to go," Tasha said. "The meal was divine. I quite enjoyed the cocktail shrimp, but the fish needed a little seasoning."

They'd had instant soup. At least the tea was hot.

From across the fire, Tasha flashed him a wry grin.

"The company was alright – even if the waiter was a little cheeky," Tasha added.

They stared at one another for a moment before Tasha turned back to the sky.

"But I'm alright with this. A full belly. A sky full of stars. Moonlight," Tasha commented.

The air was cold and crisp. The sky was clear. It was perfect for stargazing.

"When I was a little girl I used to stare up at the stars. I wanted to go there so badly," Tasha shared.

She paused.

"Thank you," she said suddenly.

"I am sorry about what happened. But I'm glad you're here with me," Castillo said.

"No. I mean thank you. Sincerely. Thank you for taking me with you," Tasha clarified.

For the first time since leaving the Enterprise-D, Tasha felt at peace.

"Out here at the end of it all. This is better than dying on that ship," Tasha said as she admired the beautiful, inky expanse of space above.

Castillo rolled on his side so he could study Tasha's reaction. He curled up and tucked his arm under his head.

"Why do you care so much about dying under the sky?" Castillo asked.

"It was always my wish to be sun bleached bones on an icy hunk of rock," Tasha replied without missing a beat.

Richard shook his head.

"No, no, no. You don't get to dodge this one. No need to keep the stiff upper lip anymore," Castillo said.

Suddenly, he was struck with a thought.

Castillo knew so very little about Tasha. They may have hit it off, but there was a lot of unknown there.

"I know you can't tell me why you're here. But… who was it? Who did you leave behind?" Castillo asked. "It may help to talk about it."

Tasha didn't answer.

Her silence wasn't because of some honour bound duty to the Temporal Prime Directive. Rather, Tasha was quite disappointed in her lack of personal friendships.

She had always been too afraid to let anyone get close. It was easier to carry on that way.

"Friends? A lover? A child?" Castillo asked, his voice full of sorrow for family and friends he only imagined she might never see again.

"Oh gods, nothing like that," Tasha assured him.

"A cat?" Castillo pressed.

Tasha laughed.

"No. I wasn't lying before," Tasha said. "I'm afraid my lack of personal engagements is rather embarrassing. I don't even have a houseplant."

"I'm sure your friends miss you," Castillo said.

Tasha tried to shake away the rising sense of panic inside her chest. She reminded herself that in this life, this timeline her death meant something.

"See that's the thing," Tasha said in a hushed voice. "According to Mr Data, if we succeeded in restoring the timeline – no one will even know I existed."

Guinan. Data. Captain Picard.

Their friendship was erased. Tasha's career was gone.

And when she added up the sum of her life, that thought hurt in a way Tasha couldn't begin to describe.

"I'm sure there's someone out there that misses you a great deal. Someone you don't even know that you helped or were kind to-"

"Please stop," Tasha requested.

Castillo was only trying to cheer her up.

"Or one of those blokes on your Security team. You never saw him looking at you but-"

"Don't," Tasha warned.

She was about to cry, and Tasha really did not want to spend her final hours in tears.

"I'm sorry," Castillo said. "And I'm sorry I keep apologising."

Tasha felt awful. These were his final hours too. She firmly felt he didn't deserve to spend them worried about hurt feelings.

"It's fine. It's not you," Tasha said.

She rolled over onto her side so she could meet Castillo's eyes.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this but I've never even, well-"

Tasha stopped herself.

Castillo's stomach dropped. He was mortified.

"I-I-I didn't know. I am so incredibly sorry for my comments. My behaviour," Castillo stammered, feeling terrible. "I didn't know you were a virgin."

Tasha made a face.

"Gods no! That's not what I was about to say," she snapped.

Tasha lashed out, tossing one of the bundled up ponchos over at Castillo. He dodged the hit.

"Go to sleep," she barked.

Tasha rolled over in a huff, crossing her arms as she lay on the freezing ground.

"If you're still here in the morning, leave my body. And get moving. Keep the sun over your left shoulder," Tasha ordered.

"Lieutenant, I-"

"Go to sleep!" Tasha snipped.

---

Castillo hadn't slept. He'd tossed and turned until a sound caught his attention.

At first Castillo thought Tasha had woken in pain. The wound on the back of her leg was quite serious.

But as he drew closer, Castillo realised she was still asleep.

Tasha stirred, shifting against the ground as she muttered in her sleep. Her breathing was rapid. There was a pained look on her face.

"Neiya, neiya, neiya, neiya, neiya."

She was chanting – almost like she was in a trance.

Castillo hovered above. His first instinct was to offer a friendly, reassuring hand. But he thought better of it – stopping himself just above her.

It was obviously some kind of night terror and Castillo was afraid waking her would do more harm than good.

"Hey. It's alright. You're not alone," he said in a soothing voice.

Castillo positioned himself between Tasha and the fire so as to provide a barrier while she thrashed about.

"Neiya!" Tasha screamed, fighting an invisible enemy.

After several agonising minutes, the night terror passed. Tasha relaxed and her breathing regulated. Tasha had shed more than a few tears during the ordeal.

Richard wanted to reach down and brush them away, but he was mindful of Tasha's request to avoid physical contact.

He made a promise to honour that.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. They had made it through the first night.

Castillo may have physically supported Tasha's weight on the journey, but he had her to thank for their survival. Tasha's instincts and quick thinking had gotten them this far.

Their survival wasn't a matter of luck. And all of Tasha's training wasn't a waste. Her experience, instinct, and cool demeanour were Castillo's saving grace.

He felt a pang of guilt that she would never get to know the gentleness or joy she'd longed for.

Richard's chest felt uncomfortably tight as he thought back to Guinan's request.

Don't hurt her.

It was spooky. Was this what Guinan had seen? Did she have some otherworldly perception?

Castillo wasn't sure how long they would have before they succumbed to the elements, the Klingons, or injury. But he was going to do everything in his power to take care of Tasha until then.

"Looks like you're stuck with me," Castillo whispered.

---

Present

Data was lying in bed on his side.

At any given moment during the day, his neural net simultaneously processed dozens of thoughts, programmes, and deciphered sensory input.

Even when Data wanted to slow his processing, shut down extraneous programmes, and focus wholly on a subject he found it hard to limit his mind.

Except when it came to Tasha.

She was fast asleep. Data could detect the slightest change in her breathing. Data watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each soft, shallow breath.

She was sporting her standard sleep shorts but had forgone her usual old, oversized Parrises Squares tee in favour of a top that was a little cooler.

Tasha was lying on her back – one arm stretched up, draped casually across her pillow and the other at her side.

She didn't just look beautiful.

Tasha was beautiful.

Data was staring at the same person he'd fallen in love with, but it was like seeing Tasha in a whole new light.

In spite of the increased fatigue, Tasha looked healthier than she had in months. It was a world of difference from the way the nanocyte incident left her drawn and emaciated.

Data was reluctant to say Tasha was 'back.' Because there was something different about her.

There was colour in her cheeks, her skin seemed brighter. Data couldn't quite put his finger on it. Nor could he recall the last time Tasha filled out her uniform so well.

Even her skin tasted different.

The back of Data's fingers ghosted down over Tasha's neck and across her collar bone.

She was radiant.

And Data was utterly captivated.

He couldn't begin to comprehend the sensation. It was even harder to describe.

Only he knew it was there. He could feel it.

The feeling was a mix of awe - both for the person he loved and their relationship, all they had built together.

There was also a sense of protection.

She was the dearest thing in Data's life. He was so grateful for all they shared that Data knew he would safeguard it against anything. Tasha was the fiercest person Data knew. Her strength of character never ceased to amaze him.

And yet in spite of all the trauma she had witnessed and endured, her heart remained tender.

So tender and so open that she had fallen for Data – asking only for gentleness, joy, and love in return. She gave as good as she got in that respect, introducing Data to a world of affection and happiness that he never imagined could be a reality.

Data delicately traced the swell of Tasha's chest and down over her hip.

Smug.

That was the best way he could describe it. Data knew humans didn't always perceive that word in a positive light – but there was a smug sense of satisfaction in knowing that of all the people Tasha could have chosen to make home with, she had chosen him.

It made Data's metaphorical heart swell with pride that he could call Tasha his partner.

Her patience, unwavering support, wicked sense of humour, and altruistic nature had captured Data's heart.

They had always shared a healthy, mutual, loving sexual relationship.

But lately Data had felt this almost primal attraction. It had started weeks earlier, shortly after their experience with Timothy.

The feeling had only grown stronger in the passing weeks.

Data spooned up next to Tasha, nuzzling against her neck before burying his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply, relishing the soft scent of vanilla and lavender that helped him relax.

Data rested his hand across Tasha's abdomen. Data couldn't stop thinking about their upcoming nuptials and the fact they were finally doing something for themselves and only themselves.

And after that, in time, would come a family.

Data was so thrilled about the prospect of what was to follow that he felt he was starting to imagine things. At times, he could swear he could faintly detect more than one heartbeat emanating from Tasha's body.

But he knew that was impossible.

One could dream.

"Data," Tasha said in a groggy voice.

Data froze, embarrassed at being caught.

Data had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he had failed to realise Tasha had awoken.

"I am sorry," he apologised.

Half asleep, Tasha chuckled.

"Data, what are you doing?" Tasha asked.

Data grinned against her ear.

"Taking stock," he teased, giving her an appreciative squeeze.

Tasha rolled over so she could look at him properly.

"I did not mean to wake you," Data said.

"It's alright," Tasha assured him.

Truth be told, it had been quite nice to wake up the way she had. Tasha's sleep hadn't been all that restful.

"Would you like me to make you a cup of tea? Or perhaps something stronger?" Data suggested.

Tasha shook her head.

"You were having disturbing dreams again?" Data asked.

Tasha sighed in response. She was no stranger to disturbing dreams.

"All the stress from this latest incident must be-" Data began to say.

He stopped as Tasha giggled.

"No, no it's silly," Tasha said, cutting him off.

Silly and scary.

"Go on," Data said, motioning for Tasha to roll over.

She groaned as Data's hands started to knead her back.

"Tell me about it?" Data requested.

Tasha shook her head.

"It's silly. Impossible," Tasha answered.

"That does not make it any less impactful. Sometimes the impossible in dreams is a way to explore ourselves," Data said.

Data was insightful like that.

"It is alright if you would prefer not to share," Data assured her.

That did the trick.

Data's lowkey, hands off approach in framing things in way that Tasha had a choice – and there would be no repercussions or judgements – was enough to convince her to open up.

"I was-"

Tasha paused.

"Having trouble doing my job. I was chasing something. I don't know what. And I couldn't keep up. I was so tired and then… then I was climbing this Jefferies tube and I couldn't get through," Tasha shared.

"Hmm," Data said in his typical way.

Tasha hissed pleasantly as his thumbs worked their way into the spot just below her shoulder blades.

"Dreams about career struggles, not being good enough are commonplace," Data offered.

"No," Tasha replied in a small voice. "That's um… well that's not why."

She paused.

"I was pregnant," Tasha confessed.

Data stopped.

Tasha's shoulders shook with laughter.

"I was so huge I felt like one of those old Constitution-class cruisers trying to fit through spacedock," Tasha said, giggling. "I couldn't pick anything up. Dropped my phaser. And the whole time I had this sinking feeling that I would never be anything more than a… well, it doesn't matter."

Tasha trailed off.

"It was awful," Tasha said, trying to downplay her own fear. "Couldn't even see my feet."

Data snaked his arms around Tasha and pulled her flush against him.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to poke fun," Tasha said.

She knew it was a tender subject for Data.

"In any case, it's impossible so like I said – silly," Tasha concluded.

"We have seen many such impossible things occur during our time in Starfleet," Data said.

Tasha's chest felt tight.

"And should the impossible ever became possible, I want you to understand that I would support you in whatever you would decide," Data assured her. "I would never want you to feel obligated."

Tasha looped her fingers through Data's. She knew that he meant that. Every word.

"Ever," Data insisted.

Data had no intention of pressuring Tasha into anything – including a pregnancy. He desperately wanted a family and was thrilled to know Tasha was keen to adopt someday.

Data pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Tasha's cheek.

"But if you ever did decide differently, just know I will be there to pick up anything and everything you drop," Data promised.

Tasha just shook her head laughing.

"That was not intended to be humorous," Data went on, teasing.

"Ha ha," Tasha replied. "You can tease all you want but just remember that we couldn't do this if there was a little impossible between us."

"I have long arms," Data growled without missing a beat. "Very long arms."

The mood shifted. Data's hand snuck up under the hem of her shirt, coming to rest just below Tasha's navel.

"And I would hold both of you," Data whispered.

He tightened his grip, snuggling close.

"In any case, I think you would look quite darling. I never told you, but when I thought you were pregnant before I was so nervous and excited," Data confessed. "Knowing, well thinking, you were carrying my child."

A mistaken appendix and a healthy dose of rumour had led to a misunderstanding of epic proportions.

"I did not even care how or why. I was so blown away by the miracle of it," Data continued. "That night I came in and you chastised me for staring, well-"

He hesitated, feeling sheepish.

"Data?" Tasha prompted.

"There was this feeling of raw, powerful beauty about it. About you," Data said in a small voice.

For a moment they laid like that, saying nothing as they simply enjoyed a quiet, domestic moment together in bed.

Tasha rolled in his arms and studied his face, her own eyes full of pity.

"I'm sorry," she apologised.

Data frowned.

"Why?" Data asked.

Tasha closed her eyes and sighed. She knew that it was silly to feel guilty. But Tasha couldn't shake the feeling she was responsible for robbing Data of an experience he hoped to have someday.

"I know that you want-"

"No, no," Data interjected. "That was not intended to elicit feelings of guilt."

He leaned forward to kiss Tasha's forehead.

"I felt the same sense when I saw you with Timothy. When we thought, even for a brief time, that he might join our family, that you and I would be raising a child together," Data explained.

He was trying his best to articulate a complex feeling. And Data felt like he wasn't doing a great job at explaining it.

"My feelings… my desire to share a family remains unchanged regardless of how that occurs," Data assured her, squeezing Tasha's hands. "When that moment comes it will be happy."

He pulled Tasha close.

"A moment of joy. And you always bring me joy," Data murmured.

Tasha smiled. She tucked an errant strand of his dark hair back behind his ear, trailing her fingers down and around the line of his jaw.

"I love you," she declared.

"I love you as well," Data said.

"Why don't you activate your dream programme?" Tasha suggested.

Data opened his mouth to protest. Tasha put her finger on his lips to silence him.

"I'm fine. I'm already starting to feel sleepy again," Tasha said, anticipating his statement.

Data settled down against the sheets.

"Goodnight, my love," Tasha said before snuggling in next to him.

Data closed his eyes and deactivated his extraneous processes. He allowed his dream sequence to take over his neural net, drifting off into his subconscious.

Meanwhile, Tasha laid down on her back. She stretched her arm up over her head and stared at the ceiling.

Tasha tried to focus on her breathing.

Anything to stop her mind from a dangerous, anxiety-riddled spiral of the terrifying prospect of pregnancy, Romulans, and time travel.

---

Over in Sickbay, the night shift had just finished their rounds. The doctor on duty had returned to the office. That meant Castillo and his surviving crew were finally alone.

The lights were low to help the patients sleep undisturbed. It would be another hour before the doctor returned to check on them.

Castillo sat up and glanced around.

Of the seventeen men they'd set out with, less than ten had survived the final Romulan attack. Eight had hung on long enough for the Enterprise-D to arrive.

Two of those had died after the transfer to Sickbay.

Castillo felt horrible.

He felt directly responsible – not that he would have changed his decision. Castillo was still grappling with the knowledge that he had likely caused Sela's demise after firing upon her Viper-class ship.

He mourned the loss of so many good men. It was particularly difficult to accept they'd been so close to freedom.

However, there was some small sense of comfort to be found. Sodan and Ahn, their two Klingon compatriots, had not survived.

They had died in battle. Glorious battle.

Hopefully enough to earn them a place in Sto-vo-kor. Castillo thought.

Aside from Castillo, there were five others left.

Ghost, Verax, and Vil Arandev, their sole Betazoid officer, had sustained heavy injuries but were on their way to recovery.

Roosevelt was still clinging to life.

Proventus had been the least injured of them all. He was awake but pretending not to be.

Bastard. Castillo mused.

The thought came from a place of part endearment, part contempt.

It would only be a matter of time before this crew pieced together Proventus was the former Vice-Proconsul of the Romulan Senate – a valuable defector.

Proventus had been a close confidant of the Emperor. He had enjoyed a long, illustrious career in the Romulan Senate and was considered one of the most experienced, senior members.

Proventus enjoyed broad public support and had wielded considerable power.

Right up until he was declared an enemy of the Empire – his dastardly crime lay in having the sheer hubris to express dissent for the growing Imperialist movement.

His concern that drawing the Empire into another long, bloody conflict would overtax an already strained Empire had made Proventus an enemy of a rival faction in the government – one that was quickly gaining the favour of the people.

Officially, they were known as the United Romulan Front. But they were more commonly recognised as the Black Eagles, having adopted the ancient Romulan War Eagle as their symbol.

Their followers were called 'black boots.' And armed with a populist message and (in a rare miracle) support from the Senate, the Fleet, and the Tal Shiar, the URF Black Eagles was the most powerful entity to operate on Romulus in more than a century.

At the top of the URF was General Morak.

That in itself was enough to give Proventus cause to speak out.

As a result, the URF Black Eagles had smeared Proventus with their propaganda machine, trumped up charges of treason against him, and stacked the legal system to ensure a conviction.

Proventus had fled.

In their effort to oust dissent, the URF had driven one of the most powerful and longest-serving senators into the arms of Castillo's rebellion.

Now free of Romulan space, they had a chance to warn Starfleet.

Only, Castillo had to be sure it was done with care.

"Pssst!" he whispered.

There was no response.

"Pssst!" Castillo tried again.

When Proventus didn't respond, Castillo tossed his pillow at him.

"What?" Proventus hissed without moving.

He didn't even bother opening his eyes. Instead, Proventus lay perfectly still with his arms crossed.

"Wake Ghost," Castillo ordered.

That request was enough to enrage Proventus to the point of sitting up.

"Look here, I am not one of your rats that you can simply order around," Proventus snapped in a hushed voice.

Proventus was the last to join their band of rebels and had never quite accepted the change to his station.

"We all need to talk," Castillo said.

He snuck out of bed, rousing Ghost first then Verax – who in turn went to gently shake Vil Arandev awake.

Castillo waved them over to Roosevelt's bunk. His injuries were too severe to get up. They weren't even sure he would recover.

So the team came to him.

"Hey you," Castillo said.

Roosevelt managed a weak smile.

"First thing I wake up to and it's your ugly mug," Roosevelt teased.

"And if you want to walk out of here you'd best get better, you here?" Castillo replied.

They both knew it was only words. Roosevelt had been thrown in the attack. The impact had shattered his spinal column. He'd suffer plasma burns to nearly eighty percent of his body.

The medical staff was concerned about infection and respiratory distress.

Even if by some miracle Roosevelt managed to survive, he would never walk again.

Castillo glanced over to check if the doctor was still occupied.

The men huddled close over Roosevelt's cot as they spoke in hushed tones.

"They'll be wanting to question us soon," Castillo warned.

The men nodded in agreement.

"They already know we're from the Enterprise. Our Enterprise that is," Castillo explained. "And it's only a matter of time before they figure out who Proventus is."

"Good," Proventus declared.

He was ready to return to civilised life. He anticipated that he would be questioned extensively. Yet as a diplomat, Proventus was expecting to be treated as such.

Castillo hesitated and Ghost could sense it.

"You are concerned," Ghost observed.

Vil Arandev frowned.

There was no use dancing around it.

"She's here," Castillo announced.

"Good god," Vil remarked.

Of course there had been the possibility that Tasha Yar would be present on the Enterprise. The thought had been in the back of all their minds since they had first realised where they were.

"And things are different," Castillo went on. "This ship is smaller. The aren't a warship. "

The Enterprise-D they had encountered twenty years earlier had been home to nearly six thousand troops.

"So there's a good chance of encountering her," Ghost said, voicing their shared concern.

Verax had not met Tasha Yar until his assignment to General Morak's estate. Proventus had only met her once, in passing, during her time as General Morak's consort.

Even the other men from the Enterprise-C had only met her after their imprisonment following capture on Narendra.

Only Castillo had known Tasha from their brief encounter with the Enterprise-D before the battle over Narendra.

"We cannot risk meddling with the timeline," Castillo warned. "We have to follow the Temporal Prime Directive."

"What are you saying?" Ghost asked.

"I'm saying we can't talk about the details of our time under Morak. Just say we were imprisoned. We can't talk about what happened with the time distortion or Tasha joining the Enterprise-C. We only share what is absolutely necessary," Castillo said.

Proventus baulked.

"Then how do you expect to explain that fascist brat?" Proventus asked.

A pained look crossed Castillo's face.

"She's dead. Remember?" Castillo asked in a colder voice than intended.

Proventus crossed his arms and eyed Castillo hard.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. She has shown a remarkable talent for surviving like the weed she is," Proventus spat.

Sela was, in part, directly responsible for ousting Proventus.

In spite of his concerns for a prolonged conflict, Proventus was still a fiercely loyal Romulan. He loved his Empire and shared in the Romulan xenophobia.

He considered Sela an abomination and her rise to power an affront to Romulan values.

"Don't you see? This is our opportunity to ensure Morak never has the opportunity to rise to power," Proventus argued.

---

It had been more than an hour since Tasha had suggested Data turn on his dream programme and go to bed.

He was sound asleep, motionless beside her.

Yet sleep continued to elude Tasha.

She carefully crept up out of bed and slipped on a pair of casual joggers.

A late night walk around the ship was sure to clear her head.

---

After a stroll around the deck, Tasha found herself standing outside Guinan's room.

Guinan kept unusual hours and Tasha had felt compelled to approach her. In fact, Tasha had tried to speak with Guinan twice following the incident in Ten Forward.

Guinan didn't seem the slightest bit surprised by Tasha's presence outside her door at such an odd hour.

In fact, Guinan had hardly slept since the rescue in the Neutral Zone. She could sense that something felt… off.

There was a weight pressing on her chest.

"Am I disturbing you?" Tasha asked.

"I suppose you can recognise I've been avoiding you," Guinan said.

"I'll admit you roused my suspicion after the second time," Tasha confessed. "I'm really sorry for what happened."

Guinan offered her a warm smile.

"It wasn't your fault. And that's not why I've been avoiding you," Guinan shared.

She stepped aside and waved Tasha into the room.

"Tea?" Guinan asked.

Guinan had the whole table set for tea complete with her fine aquamarine glass tea set from Orion.

"I have whisky as well. A good distiller's brew from Tamarol IX," Guinan offered.

"No. Thank you but I shouldn't. Have to be on duty in a few hours," Tasha replied.

Tasha took a seat as Guinan poured her a cup of tea. The warm aroma of valerian and lemon filled the air.

"You were there," Tasha said suddenly. "The last war with the Romulans. You were there."

Guinan nodded.

"You lived it," Tasha said.

She had read about the last war with the Romulans. Tasha knew from a textbook standpoint what had occurred. She had studied Romulan tactics and investigated suspected Romulan attacks.

But that was a world of difference from actually living it.

"When Cardassians wage war they tend to overtake. They use their ships and ground troops to destroy and claim," Guinan said. "They recognise the need to maintain they people and resources they take."

Cardassians were the masters of transforming existing infrastructure to suit their needs.

She stopped to pour some milk into her cup before picking up a spoon. Guinan took her time stirring her tea.

"But Romulans? They take what they want. And the don't care who is hurt in the process," Guinan said. "They have destroyed entire planets without bothering to even try and negotiate terms."

The Romulans had killed more than one billion people with crude atomic weapons in the last war.

And that had been their opening act.

"I was living on Q'rikis III with my youngest daughter. She was seven at the time," Guinan shared.

Her expression shifted as she recalled that day.

"We barely escaped. The Romulans left no survivors," Guinan said.

In all the years of her life, that incident remained one of Guinan's core memories.

"I'm not sure which is worse to tell you the truth," Guinan added.

She meant it. Guinan had known plenty of Bajoran refugees. She had sensed their pain, listened to their stories.

They had survived. But with all that pain, the anguish they had suffered under the Cardassians, Guinan wasn't entirely convinced surviving was better.

The option of never experiencing that, of being obliterated in the blink of an eye – it sounded slightly more appealing than a lifetime of Cardassian occupation.

"Romulans have the mind of Vulcans. They're tricky, more cunning than Cardassians. They have the resolve of Klingons. And they're passionate – even more so than humans," Guinan remarked.

Guinan took a sip of her tea.

"They're dangerous. Perhaps the most dangerous threat in this part of the galaxy," Guinan said.

From across the table, she studied Tasha.

"That's why you're here," Guinan observed.

Tasha didn't immediately respond. Guinan sipped her tea, giving Tasha space to collect her thoughts.

"I-I-I can't do it," Tasha stammered.

Her brow furrowed. She shook her head.

"I can't do it," she repeated with more certainty.

Tasha looked up to meet Guinan's eyes.

"This world is shit," Tasha said.

It felt good to finally say it.

"Even if we somehow overcome this Romulan threat – we're still at war with the Cardassians. The ceasefire with the Talarians is shaky at best. The Tholians," Tasha went on.

There were so many threats.

"And there's still a million ways to die in space. More threats every day. Q. Lore," Tasha trailed off.

She blinked quickly, fighting tears.

"Data wants a family. I do too. But-"

Tasha took a shaky breath.

"I can't. I won't take a child onto this ship. Into this life," Tasha said.

Guinan's eyes narrowed.

"Tasha, your fear is only natural. I know – I've had it thirty-eight times," Guinan said.

She reached for Tasha's hand. Guinan could sense she was starting to panic.

"It is perfectly normal for you to be concerned for the safety of any children you may have," Guinan said.

She wanted Tasha to understand that she wasn't alone.

"Your history is not your destiny," Guinan assured her.

She offered Tasha a warm smile.

"You grew up on a planet torn apart by war. You have seen-"

"Yes. But a civil war and clan squabbles fought with crude projectile weapons is a far cry from the sort of damage the Romulans could unleash," Tasha roared.

Tasha clutched her forehead, rubbing her temples.

"I'm sorry," she apologised.

She hadn't meant to snap at Guinan.

"You're right though," Guinan said in her smooth tenor. "But that isn't a reason to set aside what you want."

Guinan sat back and crossed her arms, watching Tasha's reaction.

"Unless you are looking for a reason," Guinan said.

"I may not even be here in a year," Tasha said.

"You don't know that. I might not be here tomorrow," Guinan said with a casual shrug. "We all live with that."

Her words did little to ease Tasha's mind.

"And you can't know that I will be," Tasha said in a small voice.

There was something in her voice that gave Guinan pause. She seemed genuinely distressed. And Tasha sounded far too certain for someone talking about uncertainty.

"Why do you think you won't be here in a year?" Guinan pressed, asking Tasha directly.

---

A noise from the office had the men in Sickbay on high alert.

Castillo and his gang fell silent.

"Two sugars. Right," a nurse said, stepping out through the office door.

There wasn't much to do on night shift and the staff had taken to reading medical journals in the office during their down time.

The men huddled in the dark, ducking low as the nurse strolled right past without noticing. They were lucky the lighting was low and that they were in the far corner.

"We need to tell them about the mechs," Castillo said.

Proventus grumbled.

Ghost scowled.

"Problem?" Ghost asked.

"Obviously we need to inform them," Proventus sneered. "But we have an opportunity here."

No one reacted.

Proventus was disappointed with their lack of enthusiasm.

"We have an opportunity to stop all of this from happening. The war. The build-up. Morak's rise to power. Your years of torment," Proventus explained.

Castillo didn't like where this was going.

Not one bit.

"What are you suggesting?" Arandev asked, sensing this was going to be explosive.

Proventus scanned the faces of his comrades.

"We have a chance to change history. To stop this before any of it occurs," Proventus said.

Castillo was enraged.

"What the hell do you think we went through all of this for? Huh?" Castillo demanded. "We went back through that temporal distortion to set the timeline right."

He was seething.

"Now you propose undoing all of that?" Castillo asked in disbelief.

Proventus was serious and he wasn't about to back down.

"Fredricks? Gore? Parker? Sodan? Ahn?" Castillo hissed.

He dropped his voice and leaned in close.

"Tasha?" he added softly. "What do you think they all gave their lives for?"

---

"Why do you think you won't be here in a year?" Guinan pressed, asking Tasha directly.

Tasha hesitated. Her mouth went dry.

Guinan gripped the edge of her chair as a chilling, disorienting sensation overcame her mind.

Tasha dropped her gaze to her lap as she started to pick at her fingernails. She recognised this was the real reason she had come to see Guinan.

Because somehow, some way, Guinan knew.

"You can sense it," Tasha said.

This time it was Guinan's turn to stay quiet.

"That's what I thought," Tasha said. "You can… feel something. You sense these things."

She was struggling to find the right words.

"You see things in people. And when you look at me, you see sorrow. And pain. Grief," Tasha said.

Tasha could see it in Guinan's eyes.

"You've seen it ever since we encountered that Romulan ship near the Neutral Zone. Almost a year ago," Tasha said.

They had been dispatched to rendezvous with the USS Berlin when a bioengineered Romulan contagion nearly wiped out the Enterprise.

"What did you see?" Tasha asked.

Guinan's heart sank.

"I don't have visions," Guinan replied.

If only I was paid every time I said that. Guinan thought.

"Guinan, please," Tasha implored. "I'm grasping at straws. Trying to find any sort of reassurance that what I feel is just natural fear."

Tasha's face contorted in pain.

"But I can't find that. And the deeper I dig the more I'm convinced there's nothing natural about this," Tasha lamented.

She was afraid to ask. Tasha didn't want to know. But after considerable soul-searching, Tasha had decided not knowing was worse.

"I can't promise Data a life together. I won't do that to him," Tasha said.

It was the first time she had voiced that aloud.

Guinan closed her eyes, soaking in the sense of pain that seemed to penetrate every available inch of the room.

"Don't give up on what you have with Data. Don't shut that door," Guinan urged.

"I don't want to," Tasha insisted.

She longed to be with Data.

Yet hurting Data would be worse than the pain of doing it to herself.

At least in the long run he could move on. Tasha thought.

Guinan knew Tasha wasn't going to back down – not without something to answer her questions.

"I don't see things. I'm not psychic. I don't have prophecies or dreams," Guinan said.

It was difficult to explain. And rarely did Guinan go in detail – most people were too afraid to ask.

Tasha Yar isn't most people. Guinan understood.

"I listen," Guinan said simply.

Tasha sat in silence, listening with rapt attention.

"I listen and I have opened myself to messages that transcend time and space," Guinan said.

She smiled nervously. And she looked tired – more tired than Tasha could recall ever seeing before.

It was so rare for anything to spook Guinan. Talking about herself and her abilities was one of those subjects.

There were times Guinan had tried to shut it out – including when fleeing with her daughter from the Romulans years earlier.

Like Deanna, Guinan could sense strong emotional events like ripples in the fabric of time. She shared in the joy and sorrow of those around her.

When the Eames family welcomed their son, Guinan had been overwhelmed by a feeling of content bliss. A new life had entered the universe and brought immense joy to those who had eagerly anticipated his arrival.

And when Angie Olivet had been killed, Guinan lived the collective grief and trauma from that event – almost as if she could hear a single voice grow silent among a choir of people.

"Are you familiar with an Elanin singer stone?" Guinan asked.

Tasha nodded.

They were well known. The rocks 'sang' when held.

"And everyone that touches an Elanin stone hears a different tone or melody. But for me, it's like I hear all of them. At once," Guinan shared.

She smiled.

"Imagine standing in the middle of a busy market and you can hear every conversation happening. But instead of words, I hear the way a person… their soul, their self, whatever you want to call it," Guinan said.

Guinan was doing her best to describe an otherworldly ability that was far more spiritual than science in nature.

"I hear the way their… essence interacts with the universe. With time," Guinan continued.

"And me?" Tasha asked.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Guinan asked.

She was stalling.

In Guinan's experience, her information was far too vague to base important decisions on. It had rarely provided peace of mind. In fact, people seemed to stress themselves out about more than necessary.

"The mystery of-"

"Guinan, please," Tasha pressed.

Guinan's expression spoke volumes.

Tasha averted her eyes and nodded slowly.

"Right," she said, dropping her gaze to her lap.

"This is why I don't like to talk about this," Guinan confessed.

Tasha reached across the table for Guinan's hand.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I asked you," Tasha acknowledged. "There's no going back. I can take it. Anything is better than this feeling of not knowing."

Guinan didn't know where to begin. It wasn't easy to describe.

Ever since their encounter with the Romulans a year earlier, Guinan had been disturbed by the way Tasha's essence interacted with the universe.

It haunted her.

At their meeting in Ten Forward that night it was as if Guinan had suddenly become aware of a sound that had been off in the distance, one she had been ignoring – until she couldn't anymore.

Tasha's spirit was bitter and cold. There was hopelessness. It was the kind of despair that Guinan had only ever felt before from Bajoran refugees liberated after decades of captivity.

The kind of emptiness that came from profound loss. Guinan had been there. She knew that life would go on, but the grief of that loss would always remain in way.

And in that moment at Ten Forward, Guinan had become aware of information she would rather not know.

Tasha had never shared the details of her childhood – but Guinan knew.

She could sense it all.

What Tasha had endured. Things that had not yet come to pass.

And for once in her life, Guinan was having a difficult time sorting what was relevant to this timeline, to this universe, to this Tasha Yar. Because the boundaries of time and space were blurred.

That was the main reason Guinan was reluctant to talk to Tasha.

It was all there.

Imprisonment.

Violence.

The anguish of a heartbreak so painful it threatened to destroy her.

Tasha was going to lose a child.

And that pain was as strong and full of sorrow as a funeral dirge. It formed the very base of the haunting melody that seemed to echo out from Tasha's being.

It was constant, like the steady beat of the baseline of a song.

And it rippled across the fabric of time.

"Guinan?" Tasha pleaded.

"You carry the pain of a great loss. The kind of love that is stronger and stranger than I can begin to describe," Guinan said, doing her best to answer the question without revealing too much information.

Tasha's chest felt tight.

"Data?" Tasha asked.

Guinan shook her head.

"No," Guinan replied.

Tasha's mind reeled.

"Why isn't that a comfort?" Tasha pondered aloud.

She couldn't bear the thought of losing Data, but Guinan's answer had only left more questions than answers. But Tasha had a quick mind. Data had once praised her deductive reasoning skills, claiming they were better than the fictional Holmes.

"A child?" Tasha asked, her voice barely audible.

What else could Guinan have meant?

A love stranger and stronger…

Guinan could see Tasha was deep in thought, grappling with this information while already planning how to break the news to Data.

"Someone you haven't met," Guinan answered honestly.

That much she was certain of.

"Yet," Guinan added.

Tasha sat back in her chair and took a breath to steady her nerves. The room was quiet. Guinan's quarters were a place of relaxation – candles, diffused essential oils, floating Andorian lanterns.

But all Tasha could feel was the blood pounding in her ears.

"Thank you," Tasha said in a faraway voice.

"Tasha," Guinan began.

"No, really. Thank you," Tasha said.

She meant it – sincerely.

"Obviously not what I wanted to hear but I'm glad I know," Tasha said.

"You can't make decisions based on this," Guinan warned.

Only Tasha already was.

Tasha wondered if the loss Guinan felt was, in fact, her decision to not have a family in the first place. Giving up on that dream felt like agony.

"My son Onni was three and half when he died," Guinan shared.

"I'm so sorry," Tasha said.

Guinan smiled.

"Thank you. He was a beautiful little boy," Guinan said. "He used to do this thing where he would demand nobody look at him while lying in the middle of the floor."

She chuckled.

"He developed what's called Soulohw Syndrome. And for my people, it's fatal," Guinan explained.

Guinan got up from the table to fetch a holopicture from the shelf along the wall. Guinan clicked it on and set the holopicture down at the table.

"He's beautiful," Tasha said.

They sat there in silence for a moment, watching the image of the small boy grin and babble while playing with a toy train.

"His dad was my third husband. Good man. And good looking. Gorgeous curly hair," Guinan said. "Onni got his father's looks. I knew the first time I held him that he was going to break a lot of hearts someday."

Guinan shut the image off.

"I only got to spend a short time with him. And it was difficult to let him go when the time came," Guinan acknowledged.

Soulohw Syndrome moved fast. Onni had been a bright-eyed wee thing one day and sick the next.

"He was sick for forty-one days before he passed," Guinan said. "And I was so angry. I was angry for a long time."

She paused.

"I sat with that grief for a long time. It's never truly gone, but I look at my time with Onni as something I choose to remember fondly," Guinan said. "Brief – but wonderful."

Tasha had known this was where it was headed.

"It destroyed my relationship with Onni's father. We were never the same. It took me a hundred and twenty-four years and two spouses before I decided I was ready to try again," Guinan went on.

She eyed Tasha with pity.

"I'm not trying to give you a lecture about starting that family. It's your decision," Guinan assured her.

Tasha appreciated that.

"I just don't think it's something you can or should decide right now. And certainly not based on this information," Guinan pressed.

Guinan didn't want to be the reason Tasha rearranged her life.

"But how can I start a family knowing what I know now?" Tasha thought aloud.

"It's a decision you'll have to make at some point. I just don't think you should make it now," Guinan said.

Guinan reached for the teapot and poured them both a fresh cup.

"You don't have a hundred and twenty-four years, Tasha. Starting a family is a big decision," Guinan advised.

She resumed her seat.

"Now I thought you and Data were planning to wait a few years before you ventured down that road," Guinan said, stirring in some milk.

"Yes," Tasha responded.

Guinan shrugged.

"Then what's the rush?" Guinan asked.

Tasha had to admit Guinan had a point – even if it didn't quite ease her fears.

Tasha was no closer to figuring out the mystery of her relationship to the timeline nor explaining the photos of herself on Romulus.

"I still can't shake the feeling something is going to happen," Tasha confessed.

Guinan nodded slowly.

"So you're wondering if it's even worth moving forward. Why get married? Why stay together if you're only going to hurt Data or yourself?" Guinan mused.

"Yeah," Tasha admitted.

Guinan looked up from under the brim of her hat.

"It only takes a moment to be loved a whole life long," she remarked.

---

"Are you out of your Romulan mind?" Castillo hissed.

Proventus remained stony.

"We were lucky enough to fix the timeline once. We can't go meddling with that again," Castillo cautioned.

Proventus crossed his arms.

"But how do you even know that you are? That you did?" Proventus asked. "Your entire belief is based on the words of one woman."

Castillo couldn't argue with that.

They had returned back through the temporal distortion based solely on Guinan's feeling – a fact they learned from Tasha.

"I'm not suggesting we prevent Lieutenant Yar from going back in time – only that we stop her from leaving the Enterprise-C," Proventus explained.

Ghost and Arandev were listening intently.

"Let her die there. That's the pivotal moment," Proventus went on.

Castillo didn't want to hear anymore.

"So what? She lives the next two years of her life with that knowledge? What the hell kind of life is that?" Castillo demanded.

Proventus wasn't ruffled.

"If she is half as strong as you claim then she would understand," Proventus argued.

He had only ever met Tasha Yar in passing when she had been the consort of General Morak. He had not been impressed.

But Castillo and the others seemed to hold a special reverence for the woman. And if their stories were true, then she had been a formidable leader.

"No," Castillo said suddenly. "I won't do that to her."

Proventus had anticipated push back.

"In any case, we don't even know if she will go back in time," Ghost pointed out.

He surveyed the confused faces of his colleagues.

"Things are different here, right? This ship is different," Ghost said.

"But the event has already happened so therefore it must happen," Verax contended.

"Shit, man. Even I know that," Roosevelt added.

None of the surviving men were engineers or experts. Castillo was a Helmsman, Proventus a diplomat.

Verax had been a journalist before becoming an enemy of the Tal Shiar.

Roosevelt was an Operations technician by trade. Arandev was a Geologist. Ghost had been a Tactical officer.

"We can't take that chance. We have to warn her. Order her not to leave the Enterprise-C," Proventus insisted.

Proventus felt this was the only viable option.

"She needs to die on that ship with no trace of who she was or where she came from. A phaser at level 10 should do it," Proventus explained.

It would be enough to completely incinerate a person.

Proventus gave the others a lesson in Romulan history and the inner workings of political power. General Morak had long been considered a major player.

But his rise to power and claim in the line of succession had skyrocketed with Sela's birth. For the Imperial family, heirs were everything.

"Prior to that fascist brat, my faction in the Senate assassinated Morak's previous and last heir," Proventus explained.

Ghost was appalled.

"Of course you did. Tell me, how old was that child?" Ghost asked, his voice full of disdain.

"Don't judge me just because I'm willing to do what must be done for the greater good," Proventus argued.

He'd always been a self-righteous bastard.

"Is your concern for the timeline or for the Romulan Empire?" Castillo asked in a cold voice.

Proventus baulked.

"I'm trying to stop a war," Proventus asserted.

No one was buying – especially not Castillo.

"If we stop that repugnant abomination from crawling out of her mother's womb, then Morak will never rise to power like he has," Proventus predicted.

Proventus was a reluctant member of their little rebellion – and he still harboured the same xenophobic tendencies as most Romulans.

Especially when it came to Sela.

"This is the only way. It will ensure the Imperial Alliance Party will remain in power in the Senate," Proventus explained.

The IAP was a less-extreme political faction that favoured focusing on developing the Empire, reducing military commitments, and opening limited trade with the Klingon Empire.

Castillo scoffed and shook his head.

"I'm trying to stop a war," Proventus repeated.

"Are you sure? Because it sounds very much like you are trying to stop your enemies before they can come to power and position yourself in that place," Castillo alleged.

---

It was nearly 05:00.

Jean-Luc wasn't due on the Bridge for several hours and he liked to stroll around the ship in the wee hours.

After slipping on his boots, Jean-Luc strolled through his Ready Room on his way to the lift.

"Going somewhere?" a familiar voice asked.

Jean-Luc froze.

He glanced over to the far corner to find Beverly sitting in the dark. She was waiting for him like a tiger hiding in the tall grass.

Picard grumbled.

Beverly rose from her seat and began to stroll about the room.

"No good morning? How are you? What are you doing in my Ready Room at this hour?" Beverly teased.

"As if I need to ask," Picard replied.

"Good morning to you, too," Beverly replied coolly.

Jean-Luc brought his hands to his hips. The line of his mouth was so slim it seemed to vanish.

"I told you – I'm not going away so easily this time," Beverly reminded him.

She had dropped in the day before demanding an explanation about the Enterprise-C survivors and just why Captain Picard had ordered Beverly to bury all evidence tying Tasha Yar's DNA to the Romulan contagion months earlier.

It was not a conversation Jean-Luc wanted to have.

"Look, Doctor… I uh-" Picard fumbled.

Beverly crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

"You can't dance your way out of this one. Data's not here to save you. It's hours before your first meeting. I want answers," Beverly insisted.

Just then, the ship's communication system pinged.

"Security to Sickbay! Doctor Crusher to Sickbay! Captain Picard to Sickbay!"

Saved by the bell.

Beverly saw red as Jean-Luc smirked.

"Duty calls," he remarked.

Jean-Luc swept out of his Ready Room and onto the Bridge. An irritated Beverly was half a step behind him.

After the lift doors closed, Lieutenant Hawk glanced over from the Helm to exchange a glance with Lieutenant Jae at Operations.

"I'm not going to say anything about them coming out of his quarters together at this hour," Jae replied, keeping her eyes forward.

"Oh of course," Hawk replied, feigning innocence.

He turned back to the Helm with a knowing smile.

---

Tasha was completely winded when she reached Ten Forward. It wasn't all that far from Guinan's quarters – only three decks – but Tasha was bushed.

Verax, Arandev, and Ghost were attempting to stop Castillo and Proventus from doing any more damage to the other patients and each other.

They'd come to blows directly over Roosevelt's cot before briefly breaking up the fight – only to resume their physical altercation moments later.

They'd crashed into a supply locker, knocked over Arandev's bed, and were now rolling around on the floor.

"Stop. Please," Tasha said in an even voice.

Castillo stopped and glanced toward the sound of her voice.

Proventus was so worked up that he used the opportunity to toss Castillo into the wall where hit with a sickening crunch.

Proventus straightened his shoulders and then turned to Tasha.

"You," he said, pleased. "I need to speak to you."

"We'll be speaking with all of you," Tasha advised.

"You do not go near her!" Castillo roared, diving onto Proventus.

Proventus was the oldest of the group. He was even aged by Romulan standards. But an old Romulan still wielded considerably more physical force than a human.

"There's no need for violence. Stop. Both of you," Tasha insisted.

Her voice was as smooth as Andorian glass. Tasha had often found that approach worked wonders.

Only this time, the wound and resentment had been building for so long that Castillo and Proventus made use of the opportunity to work out their disagreement physically.

Proventus had always disliked Castillo. His folksy, humble approach to leadership was infuriating. It had cost them men and resources over the years. Proventus felt that Castillo didn't have the resolve necessary to effectively command – he was far too interested in voting and feelings.

Castillo was still grappling with the loss of Sela. He didn't know she had survived. In his mind, he'd lost his little girl and it was all because of Proventus.

Left with no alternative, Tasha had to step in.

"Oi! Stop!" Tasha hollered.

She had come straight from Guinan's quarters. She didn't have her phaser.

Undeterred, Tasha moved to intervene. She positioned herself between the two men. The men were so consumed with their rage, they didn't even notice Tasha's presence.

"Stop. Back away. Now. Ah," she hit with a grunt of pain as Proventus landed a blow directly on Tasha's nose.

Castillo was seething.

"Coyote," Ghost warned.

"No. He's had this coming," Castillo said.

He cracked his neck, glaring at Proventus. Proventus scoffed in disbelief.

"What? You can't begin to think you could take me," Proventus taunted.

Castillo dove.

In a fury of fisticuffs he landed blow after powerful blow on the elderly Romulan.

"You. Do. Not. Hurt. My-"

Worf and a team from the Security office had arrived, rushing into the room and straight to the fight. Worf got his arm around Castillo and pulled him off Proventus.

Castillo struggled for a moment against Worf before he relaxed.

"What in Surak's name is going on here?" Picard bellowed as he swept into the room.

Beverly arrived too and made a beeline for Roosevelt's bed.

"I need a fresh sleeve. Dermaline gel on this leg. Now!" Beverly ordered.

Proventus straightened up and dusted off his clothes in an attempt to look more professional. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off when Data entered.

The sight of Data was enough to make everyone from the rescue pause.

"Whoa," Arandev remarked.

Ghost whistled low and slow.

"Ganmadan," Verax remarked in awe.

Data glanced around the room and stopped.

"May I be of assistance, Captain?" Data asked.

Proventus cleared his throat as he approached Captain Picard.

"You are the Captain?" Proventus inquired.

"Yes," Jean-Luc replied, eyeing Proventus with caution.

His once dark hair was peppered with streaks of grey. He seemed old, even for a Romulan. Jean-Luc knew they had longer lifespans, but this man appeared well into his twilight years.

"We must speak at once," Proventus said before glancing over to Tasha. "And I should like to speak with your Security."

Data scanned Proventus and it was like a lightbulb went off in his mind. He recalled seeing this man – this exact man- in a Starfleet report on the Romulan Senate.

"You are Senator Proventus tr'Lenta," Data realised aloud with a soft gasp.

Picard lifted an eyebrow, wordlessly requesting elaboration.

"He is a prominent member of the Romulan Senate," Data said, leaning close to the Captain.

Castillo broke free from Worf's grip. He scrambled to pull himself up, breathing hard.

"No. No he is not. This man is not Senator Proventus, and you should trust nothing he says," Castillo spat.

Proventus just rolled his eyes.

"He cannot be trusted, Captain. His name is Proculus. He's a low level file clerk from Dinalla," Castillo lied. "He is our prisoner. He has been well treated."

"That's why you were beating him?" Tasha asked with her signature sarcastic wit.

Castillo fell silent.

As the one with telepathic skills, Arandev could sense why Castillo had lied. He was trying to protect the timeline.

"This man is telling the truth," Arandev said, stepping forward. "That man is not Senator uh… Provokus."

Arandev was really trying to sell it.

"He's Proculus. We captured him on a raid several years ago. We couldn't risk sending him back," Arandev lied.

"These men speak the truth," Ghost chimed in.

"Ahhhh, yeah. What they said," Roosevelt added, crying out as the medical team worked to treat his extensive injuries.

Proventus turned to Verax, looking him up and down as a warning.

Jean-Luc watched as Verax looked back and forth between the two men, almost as if he were deciding which side to come down on.

"He's not in the Senate," Verax said.

Technically it wasn't a lie – not since Proventus had been ousted.

"Well, now that our guests are awake," Picard began. "Take them to separate quarters. I want to speak with each of them. Starting with you, Mr Castillo. You seem to be the leader."

Castillo nodded in understanding.

"Lieutenant Yar, please escort Mr Castillo to the Observation Lounge. Mr Data, I'd like you to set up an interview space and then sit in with Mr Castillo and myself," Picard ordered.

---

"Maybe you should have your Doctor take a look at that nose," Castillo suggested.

"I'm fine," Tasha replied.

She kept her eyes trained on the door as they rode the lift up to the top of the ship.

"You took a pretty hard blow back there. It can't hurt to-"

"Look, I don't need some misguided chivalry. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Tasha asserted.

Richard bit back a smirk.

"I know you are. Forgive me, I just… sense you may not be the most keen person to seek medical – even when you need it," Castillo chuckled.

He chose his words carefully.

Tasha let the comment roll off. This man didn't know her, he didn't know anything about her. And after their unusual encounter in Ten Forward, Tasha certainly didn't want to share any information about herself.

They stepped off the lift and Tasha ushered Castillo into the Observation Lounge.

It felt weird to be back. He glanced around the room – different and yet somehow the same.

"Captain Picard and Mr Data will be in shortly. You may take a seat anywhere you like," Tasha offered. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

"Lousy whisky?" Castillo replied without thinking.

Tasha didn't respond. She produced a pitcher of ice water and several clean glasses from the replicator. It was likely the interview would go on for some time and even Captain Picard would need to wet his throat.

Castillo could tell she was agitated and presumed it was disgust with his actions in Sickbay. He felt awful.

"I didn't mean to hit him," Castillo said.

"Really? What, you slipped?" Tasha asked.

She wasn't buying a word of it.

"I'm not like that. I'm… I'm…"

He was struggling to find the words. It was important that she know just what kind of man he was. Richard wasn't sure he could go on living knowing this Tasha Yar would have only unpleasant memories of him.

"I lost someone very important to me recently," Castillo said. "A-a child."

The glass slipped right out of Tasha's hand and hit the floor, shattering.

"Sorry," Tasha apologised.

She dropped to her knees to pick up the shards.

"And I'm sorry," Tasha added. "About your child."

Castillo felt like was the one that should be apologising. After all, he had failed her.

"Thank you," he said, unsure of how to respond.

---

Tasha and Castillo sat in silence the rest of the time while they waited for the Captain and Data. It hurt to be so close to her and unable to speak freely.

Data was the first to arrive.

As soon as Data sat down, Tasha beat a hasty retreat.

"She's good at her job," Castillo said.

"Yes," Data replied simply.

"Security must be a big job on a ship like this," Castillo remarked.

It wasn't deliberate, but Castillo was trying to suss out if this Tasha Yar's life was the same as the Tasha Yar he'd met twenty years earlier.

That Lieutenant Yar had her hands full running Security and Tactical in the midst of an open conflict.

"She probably has to oversee a lot of personnel," Castillo went on. "Big team?"

And he didn't stop there.

"A ship like this has what… five thousand? Six thousand on board?" Castillo asked.

The last Enterprise-D he'd encountered had more than six thousand people serving on the vessel.

His questions were innocent – but they sounded anything but to Data.

"You have questions about our Security," Data observed, watching Castillo closely.

Castillo shrugged.

"Just curious I guess," he replied.

It was partially true.

---

Captain Picard appeared a moment later with Deanna and requested to speak with Data in the corridor. He sent Lieutenant Worf into the room to guard Castillo while they waited.

"Captain, you need to be aware that Mr Castillo has already asked a number of questions," Data explained.

"I'm sure he's curious. A lot has changed in twenty years," Deanna said.

"While seemingly innocent on the surface, I believe these questions were designed to discover the size and scope of our complement – particularly the size of our Security force," Data cautioned.

Jean-Luc turned to Deanna for her insight.

"Counsellor?" Picard prompted.

Deanna frowned.

"He's hiding something. But I'm not sensing any malicious intent," Deanna answered.

She closed her eyes and opened her mind to the feelings emanating from Castillo.

"These men have been through an awful ordeal. They may not want to talk about it. And they may feel a sense of security, protection in keeping some of that trauma hidden," Deanna went on.

She gripped Captain Picard's arm.

"I know you need to talk to them in an official capacity – but they need counselling services too. Professional services free of any obligation of duty," Deanna advised.

"Right," Picard agreed.

Riker came scrambling around the corner. Having just awoken, he was still trying to get in gear.

"Am I late?" Riker asked.

---

Data flipped on the visual recording unit and checked the lighting. Deanna had pushed back on this – she didn't want Mr Castillo to feel pressured.

However, Jean-Luc knew Starfleet would want to see every available piece of evidence.

Finding survivors after twenty years – in the Neutral Zone no less – was nothing short of a miracle. It was a once in a lifetime discovery and was sure to make waves both within Starfleet and in Federation news.

One for the history books.

Once the official stardate entry and log reference number were input, Data gave the Captain a nod to begin.

"I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard. This is my First Officer, Commander Riker. Second Officer, Lieutenant Commander Data. And ship's Counsellor Troi," Picard said, introducing everyone around the table.

"No Security?" Castillo inquired.

A part of him wanted to see Tasha. He didn't want her to think he was some kind of awful captor to a man like Proventus.

And he wanted to be certain she wasn't going to speak with Proventus. If she was in the room, in his line of sight, then he could be sure.

At the same time, he was nervous about being around her.

"I don't think Security is necessary. This is just a casual interview," Picard said. "Would you please state your name?"

Castillo cleared his throat.

"Castillo, Richard Alexander Alvaro. Lieutenant. Helmsman and-"

He paused.

"Acting Captain. USS Enterprise NCC – 1701 – C," Castillo answered.

"Acting Captain?" Picard inquired, quirking an eyebrow.

Data was prepared. He had memorised all available information on the incident.

"Captain, in the final hours before the Trieste lost contact with the Enterprise-C, they did relay the message that Captain Garrett was dead," Data said.

"What happened? How?" Picard pressed.

Castillo froze.

He couldn't very well lie. One of the other men might say something different. Vague was best. It was part of why Castillo had wanted a quick meeting before these interviews.

Unfortunately, Proventus had his own agenda.

"In battle on the Enterprise-C," Castillo answered.

Castillo couldn't say that it was a battle against Klingons that wouldn't happen for another two years.

Deanna used her tablet to send a quick message to Captain Picard.

He's not being entirely truthful. Deanna cautioned.

---

Ekloire Starbase | Romulan Space

Two sections of Romulans troops rushed by, running through the central hub of the Ekloire Starbase.

"Cellerare! Cellerare!" urged a beefy Romulan Centurion, shouting at the uhlans under his command to pick up the pace.

Across the way, there was a platoon of Romulan troops lined up for inspection as a snooty-looking Subcommander strolled between the lines. She was followed by a terrified Uhlan, marking notes on her tablet as various officers were put on report for untidy fingernails or boots not quite up to spec.

A voice rang out of the communications system with a series of announcements.

"All departures for Caer Glevum have been reassigned to the Septireme. Units Alaudae, Parthica, Ulpia, and Noricum are to report to Level 26 for training assessment."

The central hub of the Ekloire Starbase was designed for both functionality and prestige. There were thirty-two levels – nineteen of them that sat above the central hub.

It was open in the middle all the way up to a grand starlight above.

General Morak had overseen construction of the facility himself.

Because from this spot was where he would launch the final part of his plan to annex Federation territory and crush them once and for all.

And when he did, every balcony would be packed with Romulan troops. Banners bearing the Black War Eagle would unfurl from the top level, ushering in a new era of Romulan supremacy and securing Morak's legacy as one of the greatest Romulan leaders in history.

The spacedock hissed as the chamber depressurised.

A moment later, it rolled open.

Everyone in the central hub dropped what they were doing as they turned. It rippled across the space as thousands of soldiers clicked their heels, pulling their right arm across their chest in accordance with the proper military salute.

General Morak swept past with his entourage in tow.

From the lowliest uhlan to the highest ranking Commander, all the Romulans under Morak's authority held themselves perfectly still in a salute as he passed.

The Vindicta had docked and General Morak was there to oversee the final preparations for his plan to usurp power.

First Starfleet.

Then the Federation.

And then the Romulan Empire itself.

The Romulan people would demand his ascension as Praetor by acclamation and the Senate would have no choice.

It would be easy to depose the current Emperor (Morak's nephew) once his plan was complete. Hell, Morak was counting on it.

Morak's claim had never been stronger.

And in less than a year, Morak would be Supreme Commander of the Romulan Fleet, Praetor, and Emperor to boot – a feat accomplished by only six other Romulans in history.

Morak would be seventh.

It felt divinely sanctioned.

General Morak strolled toward the lift, saying nothing as he passed his troops.

Sela was there too. In an official capacity, she would reunite with her own ship, the Caelus. Unofficially, Sela would have a day or two to play the role of supportive Commander as her father worked to muscle support from visiting dignitaries.

And maybe some fun. Sela thought as she passed by a strapping Uhlan.

Giving him a once over, Sela suppressed a smirk.

He would be perfect.

---

The moment he stepped into his office, General Morak detached his heavy cloak and threw it into the arms of a waiting aide.

At the far end of the office was a large window overlooking the base.

Morak stepped up. Folding his hands behind his back, he surveyed the action below.

"Three new battalions arrived from the Vedis Sector yesterday. We're expecting the Agricola brigade to trickle in over the next three days," a Commander informed him.

Morak listened patiently.

"Four hundred and eighty two personnel have been stricken with Thelussian flu. Another sixty-three are on the injury list," he continued.

Morak's fist clenched.

"And we're running into an issue," the Commander said.

"Oh? An issue more pressing than nearly five percent of my Fleet inactive?" Morak hissed.

"There's a problem with space, sir. The bedding. The housing," the Commander explained.

He'd been in the service of General Morak for nearly forty years and knew that Morak didn't like to be kept waiting. Morak appreciated honesty – even if it came with retribution.

There weren't enough beds, lavatories, or canteen facilities to accommodate the build up of troops.

"We're housing the new troops on their ships for now and rotating as necessary," the Commander explained. "But as you know, that comes with its own host of problems."

There were quarantine procedures. All the transfers to and from ships had increased the spread of the Thelussian flu.

"Stop the rotations," Morak ordered.

They could not afford to risk any further spread of the disease – even at the cost of morale.

Morak turned. For a brief moment, everyone braced themselves for him to do his worst – gut the Commander with his blade or even toss him through the window.

Instead, he slapped the Commander on the shoulder and smiled.

"As always, well done my old friend," Morak said.

Everyone visibly relaxed.

"And for your unwavering support and honesty you have more than earned this," Morak said.

He snapped his fingers and an aide stepped forward, producing a fine box for the General. Morak removed the insignia inside and pinned it to the Commander's high collar.

"I am proud to have you in my service, Admiral Jarok," Morak said with a devious grin.

Alidar Jarok was perhaps Morak's most valuable officer. He was a competent leader and effective military strategist.

He'd proven himself in the Norkan campaign and General Morak always rewarded loyalty.

"Thank you," Jarok said with a low bow.

For a moment, Jarok had suspected Morak was about to strip him of his rank. Jarok had privately held reservations about General Morak's plan.

But it seemed, at least for the time, that remained private.

"I'll see you at final meal. Something special in your honour," Morak said dismissing him.

"Thank you, sir," Jarok said.

He backed toward the door, exiting with a low bow.

Sela made to slip away – but General Morak caught her on the way out.

"Ah! Are we forgetting something?" Morak asked.

Sela froze.

General Morak stepped over to his desk and pulled an object from the top drawer. He handed Sela a small, ornately inscribed box.

"We will take final meal in the conference hall at 18:00. Our guests will have arrived by then," General Morak said casually. "At least the ones that are arriving."

Ekloire Starbase was due to receive a delegation from the Senate War Committee. Not all of the Senators were going to make it.

General Morak thought it would set the right tone if one of the more prominent voices of opposition were to perish en route.

"I'll see you tonight. Try not to have too much fun between now and then," Morak warned.

---

Sela wasted no time in heading back down to the central hub of the starbase. After a short lift ride, she stopped on the deck just above that overlooked the main floor.

A platoon of Romulan troops was below.

Presently, they were being put through their paces by their commanding officer.

"That one," Sela said, indicating to the same brawny Uhlan she had spied on her way in.

"As you wish," her aide said.

---

"Faster you Mellanoid slime worms!" the commanding officer barked.

Uhlan Notus dropped to hands and knees. As the troops performed their push-ups, Notus barely broke a sweat.

He was the biggest Romulan in his platoon. But being a Northerner, it was expected.

The commanding officer stopped counting aloud. He was whispering with an Subcommander, one of the aides from the main office.

And they were pointing at Notus.

The whole way to the lift (and subsequent ride up), Notus kept his head down and remained silent. He had always carried out every order without question.

So he couldn't fathom what he had done to warrant being disciplined.

The panic in Notus swelled with each passing floor as the lift rose higher and higher. As a lowly Uhlan, Notus had never been permitted to go anywhere higher than the medical facility on Level 12.

"Do not speak unless it is requested. Even then, you will ask permission before answering," the aide instructed.

Notus nodded.

"Do not look directly at the Commander," the aide added.

Once again, Notus silently accepted the order.

The aide grinned, pleased with his behaviour.

"You're perfect," the aide remarked.

---

The aide brought Notus into a grand office and ordered him to sit. Then the aide left.

So Notus sat. And sat.

And sat.

All the while, he kept his eyes low and remained perfectly still. It was his hope that this obedience would spare him whatever punishment he was about to receive.

After what felt like an age, Notus heard a slow clap. His instinct was to look up and follow the sound. But for fear of his life, he kept his eyes trained on the carpet.

"Very impressive," drawled Sela.

She was sitting at her desk with her legs up on the surface. She'd been observing this Uhlan, testing him.

Sela sat up straight and leapt out of her chair to circle him. He was young, not much older than Sela herself and clearly well trained.

He nearly jumped when Sela leaned in close to his ear.

"Don't be frightened," she said.

His heart jumped to his throat when Sela gripped his chin. She lifted his head, turning it side to side to examine him.

Notus tried to redirect his gaze so as to avoid eye contact. But it was hard to keep up – almost like she was intentionally teasing him.

So he closed his eyes.

Sela only chuckled.

"You have an exemplary service record, Uhlan Notus," Sela said.

She had only skimmed through his file. Sela didn't care all that much, but she wanted this Uhlan to think he was being rewarded.

Notus tensed when Sela plopped herself down on his lap. He squeezed his eyes shut. Surely, this had to be some sort of test of loyalty.

"Tell me, do you like serving in the fleet?" Sela asked.

Notus's mouth went dry.

"It's alright. You may speak," Sela said.

"May I-"

"Oh, let's do away with all that formality," Sela said.

Notus swallowed hard.

"Y-yes," Notus answered.

"It's a long way from Rateg, hmm?" Sela asked.

"Yes," Notus replied.

He did his best to keep his voice even. But Sela was toying with him. She ran her hands through his hair, leaving Notus thoroughly confused.

"Tell me, what did you do before you were conscripted?" Sela asked.

"I was a farmer. My family, we uh, we have a farm outside of Rateg," Notus answered.

"I bet you did," Sela remarked in a low voice.

She ran her hands up and down the length of his biceps appreciatively.

"You're like one of those propaganda posters. Grain for the glory of the Empire," Sela teased, referencing one of the common campaigns.

There were murals, banners, and holographic transmissions all throughout the Empire praising the virtue of the impoverished farmers of Rateg and the other northern provinces that helped to feed the Empire.

And they all featured beefy young men like Notus.

"Do you know why Northerners make such good soldiers?" Sela asked.

Notus didn't answer.

"Surely, you've heard the comments? Bigger biceps than brain cells. Big, dumb northerners – not terribly bright but incredibly loyal," Sela said.

She paused and chuckled softly.

"And you… well, you're the perfect specimen, Uhlan Notus," Sela said.

Notus was unsure how to respond.

"You may look," Sela instructed.

Notus reluctantly opened his eyes, peeking out of one first as if to test the waters.

"You are such an obedient thing," Sela commented.

Notus tried not to react as Sela's fingers ghosted along the line of his chiselled jaw.

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

He nodded.

"You're not here to be disciplined," Sela assured him. "In fact, I have a very special task for you."

Notus wasn't sure whether this news was relief or not. He'd heard of officers never returning from such tasks.

But who was he to refuse?

A lowly Uhlan like Notus had no right to disobey.

"You're going to take this up to Level 3. The guest quarters. Room 332," Sela instructed.

Sela handed him the small box that General Morak had entrusted to her.

"You will swap this with one that looks identical and bring it back to me," Sela explained.

She leaned in close, her face less than an inch from his.

"And if anyone asks, you're security," Sela whispered.

Notus struggled to keep his surprise in check as she nuzzled against his ear.

"Do you understand? Or do I need to use smaller words?" Sela asked.

"I-I understand," Notus answered.

Sela back and grinned, walking her fingers up his chest as she explained to Notus that he would be well rewarded for such an important mission.

Sela gripped his chin tight.

"And because you are so loyal, you won't tell anyone about this. Is that clear?" Sela asked.

"Mmm hmm," Notus responded, his voice muffled.

Sela glanced down at his lap and giggled.

"You are loyal. Even your little Centurion knows when to salute," Sela said in a simpering tone.

His body tensed as she pressed against him.

"You Northerners don't do anything small, do you?" Sela asked.

Notus's face flushed. He was both embarrassed by body's reaction and fearful of what Sela would do next. For a man of such lowly stature, it was completely inappropriate to even look at a highborn member of the Imperial family like Sela.

But she was practically pawing at him, pushing all the right buttons.

"Don't dawdle," Sela purred.

---

Enterprise-D | Observation Lounge

"There were four warbirds. The Klingons scrambled the ships they could – but the Romulans picked most of them off before they could get out of spacedock," Castillo explained.

"At 13:48 hours the Enterprise-C radioed the Trieste to advise that she had expended her photon torpedoes. Out of options, the ship set a course to ram the nearest Romulan vessel," Riker said, reading from Data's report.

He glanced up.

"Did you give that order?" Riker asked.

"No," Castillo answered honestly.

"Then who did?" Riker inquired.

"I was temporarily incapacitated following an injury. The order was given by an officer at Tactical," Castillo said.

Data perked up.

"The same officer that issued General Order 13 to abandon ship?" Data asked, knowing full well it was the answer.

Castillo nodded.

He was walking on eggshells. Data had been there – both on the Trieste and on the other Enterprise-D.

Data was thrilled. For more than twenty years, the name of this officer had eluded him. It haunted Data.

"Sir, what was the name of that officer? I would very much like to amend my official report from the investigation twenty years ago to honour that officer's actions," Data requested.

Castillo's mouth went dry.

He desperately wanted to tell them, to share the story of Tasha's sacrifice.

But he couldn't.

"I-I-I can't," Castillo stammered.

Jean-Luc leaned over the table and frowned.

"You're saying you don't recall the name, or you will not disclose it?" Picard asked to clarify.

"They were a recent a transfer," Castillo answered, avoiding the question.

This threw Deanna for a loop. There was truth in his words, but she couldn't set aside the alarm bells that were screaming this Castillo was withholding important information.

"And they did not survive?" Picard asked.

Coming off the fresh pain from Sela, reopening the wound of Tasha's death was too raw for Castillo.

"No," he said, starting to choke up. "No. They didn't."

It struck everyone in the room as odd that he would be so moved by the death of a colleague he couldn't name. Deanna sensed there was something there and decided to go out on a limb.

"I can feel how important this person was to you. You won't face any repercussions for a personal relationship. Regulation 1138 is not something you need fear," Deanna assured him.

She presumed his hesitancy was based on a fear of the Starfleet fraternisation policy.

Castillo turned toward the window and tried to compose himself. They had come too far along for him to crack under pressure now.

Don't do this to her. Castillo reminded himself.

Riker decided on a different approach. He could tell from Deanna's nonverbal cues that Lieutenant Castillo wasn't being entirely honest.

"When did they die? Was that on the Enterprise too?" Riker asked.

"No. No, that was on Romulus. Fourteen years now as of last month," Castillo answered without thinking.

"So you remember the exact date of their death, but you cannot recall their name?" Riker pushed.

Castillo fell silent.

"Well?" Riker demanded.

"I remembered what they looked like. I was there when they passed. That's all," Castillo said.

---

Ekloire Starbase | Romulan Space

"Why me?" Notus asked.

He hissed as Sela dragged her teeth across his bare chest.

"Because you look like a big, dumb northerner," she answered before nipping the pulse point of his neck.

Notus wasn't complaining.

As a lowly Uhlan, he'd be more than likely crammed on the canteen bench sharing rallak soup with the rest of his unit were it not for Sela's invitation.

He could hardly believe his luck. Sela had fed him real, expensive fruit. It was the kind of treat that only grew in the fine hothouses of the Romulan capital.

Until she'd grown bored and climbed in his lap.

She had a bed. A real bed. Notus slept on a hard, flat bunk. Even that was a step above sharing a straw mat with his eight siblings back home on the farm.

There were pillows covered in fine Tholian silk and a fur blanket that looked to be made from the Arctic Romulan lynx – a highly endangered animal.

Not only had Sela permitted Notus to view and touch these things – she'd practically begged him to take her to bed.

Notus wasn't even supposed to look at a woman of Sela's rank. He would likely be killed if anyone ever found out he'd so much as thought about touching her.

And she seemed to enjoy it.

"Mmmmm," Sela keened.

Notus planted his lips at the side of her neck, nibbling across the line of her jaw until he reached Sela's lips.

Thwack.

Notus froze.

"How dare you presume to kiss me," Sela said in a cold voice.

Notus dropped his gaze. His face flushed with embarrassment, and he turned his head to the side – anything to avoid looking at her body.

"Forgive me, my lady," Notus apologised.

Sela threw back her head and laughed.

Notus was confused.

"Awwww," Sela cooed.

She gripped his chin almost painfully and forced him to lift his head.

"Look at me," Sela demanded.

Notus complied, remaining perfectly still as Sela studied his face. Sela was amused by the terror in his eyes.

She liked men like Notus. They were playthings to Sela.

"Uhlan Notus," she whispered, nuzzling against his face.

Sela raked her fingernails across his back. Her breath was warm against his ear.

"My big, dumb northerner and his beautiful body," Sela said in a heady voice.

Notus was confused, aroused, and at a total loss for what he was supposed to do.

"Touch me," Sela said.

His hands trembled as he tentatively reached up to hold her hips.

"I'm not made of glass," Sela teased.

Nonetheless, Notus remained tense.

Sela nibbled at the shell of his ear, rolling her hips against him.

"Someday you're going to go back to your grubby little farm. You'll spend all of your days tending crops and shovelling muck," Sela said softly.

She was taunting him in the cruellest of ways, almost like she got off on the idea of how forbidden it was to be in bed together.

"Will you think about me while you're touching your humble little wife?" Sela went on.

Sela smirked as Notus twitched beneath her.

"I am the finest thing your fat, rough hands are ever going to touch," Sela growled.

Notus squeezed his eyes shut, remaining perfectly stoney as Sela bit down on his shoulder – painfully so.

Then she rested her chin against his chest. Sela looked up and pouted. A soft whine escaped from her lips.

"Forgive me, my lady. I am unsure how-"

"Shut up," Sela said. "Don't speak."

Notus fell silent.

Sela's shoulders slumped.

Notus couldn't help feeling he had disappointed her. But he couldn't begin to fathom why.

Sela pulled away in favour of lounging back against an oversized pile of pillows at the top of her bed. She poked Notus with her foot.

"It's a game, silly," Sela explained as if he was missing the obvious.

"Forgive me, my lady. I don't know this game," Notus confessed.

"I know, that's what I love about you, Uhlan Notus. You're so loyal. All muscle and no mind," Sela said. "You'll do anything I tell you to, won't you?"

Sela let her legs fall apart as she beckoned Notus closer with her finger.

"Isn't it exciting? Don't you feel the tiniest bit of thrill doing something so forbidden?" Sela asked.

Notus crawled close. Sela wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his backside.

"I'm a jewel you'll only touch once in your life. What kind of memory do you want to think back on?" Sela asked.

Notus didn't need telling twice.

"My lady," he murmured.

"Sela," she insisted.

"Sela," he growled.

Sela slapped him across the face, grinning like a predator. This time, Notus didn't stop. Notus let himself go.

What she had said was true - he was nothing to her.

"You're a brute," Sela keened.

"You love it," Notus countered.

And then in an instant, the façade of this cold-hearted, cruel Romulan Commander faltered.

"Say you love me," Sela asked in a small voice.

She couldn't be sure Notus had heard her. His hands were everywhere, and he was grunting exactly like the kind of big, dumb northerner she'd initially pegged him to be.

"Please?" Sela whimpered.

---

Enterprise-D | Observation Lounge

"Could you describe them? I could use that information to cross reference with the Enterprise-C manifest," Data requested.

He was desperate to find this officer.

Castillo had backed himself into a corner.

"What about the rest of your Bridge crew?" Picard asked.

Castillo shook his head.

"Captain, you need to be aware of two immediate threats that are coming," Castillo said suddenly.

He desperately wanted to warn Captain Picard of the danger posed by Morak, the Ekloire Starbase, and the Romulan plan to topple Starfleet.

In addition, he had an obligation to warn the Captain about the mechs – the strange mechanical humanoids they had encountered in Romulan space.

"Threats?" Picard asked.

Castillo nodded.

"The Romulans have built a cloaked starbase, sir," Castillo announced.

It was a wild claim. The Romulans had never been capable of cloaking more than a ship – and even that was a tremendous feat of technology.

But an entire starbase?

It sounded preposterous.

"It's true," Castillo said. "I urge you to heed my words. There's an entire cloaked starbase. I can give you the coordinates. There's thousands and thousands of troops there. A Romulan invasion force."

The team used their tablets to communicate messages to one another.

"What can you tell us about this base?" Riker asked, hoping to buy time.

He believes this. I'm certain of it. Deanna wrote.

Captain, this would not be an atypical Romulan ploy to lure us into the Neutral Zone in hope of instigating a conflict. Data warned.

"Please," Castillo implored them. "They're coming."

---

Ekloire Starbase | Romulan Space

General Morak burst into Sela's rooms.

He was completely unbothered at the sight of finding her in bed in the throes of passion.

In the arms of a lowly Uhlan, no less.

General Morak grabbed a pear from the bowl of fruit near the door and took a bite. He waited several seconds, chomping on a mouthful of fruit until he grew bored.

Morak then pulled out his disruptor and fired directly at Ulhan Notus.

The man died instantly, all twenty stone of his dead weight falling on top of Sela – trapping her against the bed.

Sela was stunned. Her hands were trembling, tentatively hovering over the dead man that she was still quite literally wrapped with below the sheets.

"The delegation has arrived early," Morak said as he tossed Sela's dressing gown at her. "That means we've got to entertain sooner than expected – and we need to move up the timeline."

Morak strolled over to the window, pear in hand, as he gazed down at the troops below.

Sela managed to shift the considerable body weight of her Uhlan and wiggle out from underneath him. She cinched her dressing gown around her waist and stared at his dead body.

"Oh, come now. We were going to kill him in the end anyways," Morak said.

Sela glared, silently furious with her father.

Yes. The plan had been to kill whatever Uhlan they used to plant the device in one of the rival Senator's quarters. That had been the task Sela entrusted to Notus.

He'd delivered a surveillance device that would, in a few days' time, release a toxic gas to kill the rival.

Then Morak would pin it on Notus and claim he was a secret dissident plant. They would close the book on the affair and the whole thing would be wrapped up nicely.

No loose ends.

Sela couldn't tear her eyes away from Notus. She had been hoping to keep him for herself for a few days.

"Oh, what is it my little eagle? You weren't done playing?" Morak teased.

"Don't treat me like a child," Sela snapped.

"Then don't pout like one when I break your toys," Morak retorted.

Morak snapped his fingers.

"Chop chop. We have guests waiting," Morak insisted.

Grumbling on the inside, Sela slipped behind the folding screen in the corner to dress.

"And if I ever catch you riding another one of the northerners, I will bust your arse down to Uhlan. Since you seem so fond of bedding them, you might as well join them," Morak warned.

Sela scoffed.

"You wouldn't do that, and we both know it. You could never live with the shame," Sela teased.

In this instance, Sela knew her father was only ribbing her, and it was safe to press back. Morak had his own series of consorts and took pride in daughter's sexual appetite.

He thought it was an investment that she gain experience. It made it easier for him to use her as a tool.

"You ought to be more careful," Morak urged. "Anyone could have walked in."

"You were keen enough to whore me out to Duras. And use me like a pawn for your negotiations with Senator Aulus," Sela pointed out.

Sela emerged from behind her folding screen a moment later. She was dressed in full military regalia including her talons.

Morak caught Sela on the way to her vanity. His fingers grabbed for a fistful of hair, and he twisted.

"Ah," Sela hissed.

"I've permitted your liaisons provided you are smart about them. But the House of Duras is traditional and they will demand at least the illusion of your virginity if we are to create a formal alliance," Morak snarled.

Sela found it all ridiculous.

"So the next time you feel the need to take advantage of one of our targets – you will seek my permission first," Morak ordered.

Sela winced in pain as he twisted her hair to drive home his point.

"We can ill afford to have our position compromised by some foolish romp," Morak said.

"Right. I'm sure that's exactly what you were concerned about when you were bedding my mother," Sela argued. "Did you poll public opinion before you bent her over your desk or does that not matter for-"

Sela grunted as Morak threw her across the floor.

She cried out when a swift kick of her father's boot impacted her stomach.

"You insolent, ungrateful brat," Morak roared.

Sela gasped for air, clutching her stomach as she tried to breath.

"I have given you everything!" Morak shouted as he kicked her again.

Instinctively, Sela curled into a ball and covered her head to try and protect it from any powerful blows. Sela knew it did no good to beg – pleading only infuriated her father more.

So she stayed there on the floor, taking blow after blow until Morak had worked through his anger.

Just like her mother.

Morak stopped, mid-swing and dropped his foot.

"Get up," he barked.

Sela pulled herself up to her knees.

"Get up," Morak repeated.

Sela tried to stand and stumbled.

"Get up! You are Commander of the Romulan Fleet. A member of the Imperial family. A descendant of the Iconians. My heir! GET UP!" Morak growled.

"Yes, fenthair," Sela replied.

Her face was a wreck. Sela was breathing funny. She was certain her father had broken a rib or two. It was hardly the first time.

Older Romulan houses like Morak's often used physical abuse to discipline children. As a half-human, Sela wasn't as physically strong as her peers.

She had suffered the brunt of her father's rage in silence.

Sela was fighting back tears.

"Awww, don't weep. You'll only look puffy at dinner," Morak said.

He cupped Sela's face, thumbing away the tears.

"After our conquest of Starfleet is complete we will finish negotiations with Duras. And once you have given him an heir, you may ride as many brawny northerners as you like," Morak assured her.

Her father seemed more determined than ever that Sela should wed Duras to establish a formal alliance between the two powers.

"Come now," Morak said, guiding Sela over to her vanity.

He picked up her hairbrush and shoved it at Sela.

"Tick tock," Morak said, reminding her of the time.

While Sela sat in front of the mirror to try and cover the damage her father had inflicted, Morak paced about the room. He started to grill Sela in preparation for the evening.

"Senator Itarian will be in attendance. What are you to mention?" Morak asked.

"Grain imports from Vilja are down. He will blame the weather during harvest but neither of the neighbouring provinces struggled to supply their tribute," Sela answered.

"Excellent. And if Senator Huulor brings up the Defence Bill?" Morak quizzed.

Sela set her hairbrush down and turned her head side to side to examine her work.

"He was supportive of the bill before the reallocation of the Tal Shiar surveillance budget. But last year, the Fleet performed twice as many surveillance missions with half the budgetary spending," Sela rattled off.

She paused to adjust her high collar, hiding the bite marks from Notus.

"And should he wish to continue supporting an organisation that offers half the work at twice the cost, then he should invest more heavily in the Tal Shiar training facility in the Senate bill up next week," Sela concluded.

Morak's heart swelled with pride.

He gripped Sela's shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"My little eagle," he said fondly.

---

Romulus | 2351

Sela squealed, running along the courtyard. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a braid tied off with a blue ribbon.

"Slow down, my lady!" Castillo called after her.

Sela rushed past two Romulan workers, bumping into one carrying a basket full of fruit into the kitchens.

The servants immediately dropped to their knees and pleaded for forgiveness.

Sela didn't care.

She was far too busy with her newest toy, a gift made by her protector. It was a wee sailboat he had carved for the girl. And Sela was eager to take it to the pond on her father's estate.

Sela was nearly to the edge of the courtyard when an imposing figure stepped out and into her line of sight.

Sela froze and looked up at her father.

General Morak held out his hand, wordlessly demanding that Sela turn over the toy.

Her lip began to tremble. It was terribly unfair for someone so small. Every time she had something fun in her life, her father snatched it away.

Toys were for children. But Imperial children didn't play – they learned Romulan history and horseback riding, elocution, fencing, philosophy, Romulan law, mathematics, principles of the Imperial Religion, and more.

It was enough to make a six year old's head spin.

"I-I-I haven't even played with it," Sela stammered, hoping to appeal to her father.

"All the better. You won't know what you're missing," Morak said as he snatched the sailboat from Sela's hands.

Castillo came rushing around the corner and was none too happy to see Morak had discovered Sela's latest toy.

It was precisely why Castillo had urged Sela to keep it a secret. He'd advised she could play with it in the bath.

But Sela had been determined to test it on the pond.

"You provided this?" Morak asked.

"I thought it would be a good lesson. Buoyancy. Direction," Castillo lied.

To his relief, Morak chuckled.

"Humans. You fool," Morak grinned as he clucked his tongue. "There is no harm done. I know you meant well."

---

General Morak dragged Sela back to her quarters in the East tower and roughly deposited his child on the floor.

"Up. Get up," he barked.

Sela pulled herself up to her feet. She instinctively straightened her tunic and clicked her wee boots together.

"Chin up, back straight," Morak ordered.

Sela was like a tiny child impersonating a soldier.

Morak spied the tablet in the corner where Sela had discarded her lesson in favour of running around like a feral child.

"Do you know who the Emperor is?" Morak asked.

Sela nodded.

She had passed his first test – answering the question without actually giving away the information. It was a skill instilled into all Romulan children.

"Name the seven tenets," Morak demanded.

Sela clutched her tiny fists at her side and took a deep breath.

"In alphabetical order," Morak added.

Sela's confidence evaporated. It was difficult enough for someone so small to remember that information – let alone sort it on the spot.

What's more, Sela realised this was a trick question. There were eight tenets in the Romulan Imperial oath.

"Actum Rhae," Sela recited. "I shall remain vigilant and alert in my service and mindful of my words."

Morak gestured for her to continue.

"Fidelas," Sela continued. "I pledge my allegiance to the Romulan Star Empire. And I shall remain loyal and true."

She was off to a good start and Morak was pleased.

Sela relaxed a little as she continued. She recited these tenets every morning and knew them by heart – even if they were difficult for a child to understand.

She rattled them off one by one under the watchful eye of her imposing father.

Fidieum – a pledge of faith to the Imperial family and the state religion.

Fortium Dhhaol and Fortium Cerebru.

They were a promise to strive for physical perfection and mental acuity. Every Romulan had a duty to grow and learn so that they might serve the Empire.

Retrima – the resolve to do whatever was necessary to complete one's service.

"Servitium," Sela continued.

It was an oath of unquestioning, selfless service to the Empire in whatever role one was assigned.

In a way, such a concept was almost laughable to men like Morak. The oath was designed to discourage ambition. It was meant to create a culture where the lowliest serfs felt it was their moral obligation to tend crop fields and do their time as Uhlans in the Fleet.

For the upper classes, it was a shield behind which they hid their own ambition. Morak often claimed his lofty goals were merely a selfless sacrifice in service of the Empire.

"Um.. erm," Sela fumbled as she racked her brain for the next answer.

She began to fidget.

Sela knew failure was likely to earn her a split lip and no supper.

"Sumum Suprius," Sela settled on. "The Romulan Star Empire and her people are superior to all others."

Morak scooped up his daughter. He flashed her a genuine smile.

"Other empires will rise and fall. And after they have gone, we will remain. No star shines brighter nor longer than our Empire," Morak and Sela finished together.

He lifted her up, spinning Sela around in his arms. She giggled with delight. It was so rare to receive any sort of affection from Morak.

"And no star will shine brighter than you, my little eagle," Morak said.

"I love you, fenthair," Sela said.

Morak didn't say it back. He never did.

---

Six Years Earlier

Tasha Yar squeezed her eyes shut, grunting as another chill swept through her body. There was an intense pressure in her lower back.

She was leaning over a chair, gripping the back for support.

Tasha clenched her jaw. A low groan escaped from her throat followed by a soft whimper. There was a stinging sensation. It felt like the very flesh of her body was seared as her daughter's head began to crown.

"I can see the child."

The voice was that of Vic Kelley – he'd been a medic on the Enterprise-C and was the closest thing they had to a human doctor.

There was a Romulan physician present too. But he was callous and cruel, making no attempt to hide his disgust for Tasha and the baby she was about to bear.

In this Romulan physician's mind, this child was a disgusting abomination.

So he was more than keen to honour Tasha's request that he keep his hands off her.

"You're doing great," Castillo said as he rubbed Tasha's back.

He was the only person in a room full of medics, physicians, and servants to offer Tasha a friendly word throughout the entire ordeal.

Labour was difficult enough for Tasha.

Everything was too bright. She didn't want the Romulan physician touching her. And she was still grappling with the fact she didn't want this child.

Tasha had watched her own mother die on Turkana after giving birth. It was a terrifying prospect and one Tasha had spent years trying to avoid at all costs.

Now Tasha was hoping she'd be lucky and die in childbirth too.

Tasha reached for Castillo's hand, squeezing it as another temperature swing rippled through her body. Silently, he offered as much support as he could without crossing the line.

They weren't alone and it broke Castillo's heart that he couldn't do more for her.

It was difficult to speak. Subconsciously, Tasha was muttering the same phrase under her breath between contractions.

None of the Romulans or other humans present knew what was being said. They thought Tasha's native language wasn't important enough to try and understand.

But Richard knew exactly what she was saying.

Mercy.

Death.

The universe did not see fit to answer that plea.

After another agonising hour, Tasha's arduous task was finally complete. The room was silent save for the tiny, wailing cries of her newborn baby.

"What's wrong?" Tasha asked.

No one spoke.

"What's wrong?" Tasha demanded.

Panic started to rise. Tasha couldn't figure out why no one was saying anything. Her mind began to spiral to the worst – was her child ill? Injured?

"What's wrong?" Tasha shouted, her voice starting to break.

She was too weak to stand.

Kelley, the medic from the Enterprise-C, continued to work. It was surreal as the moments ticked by and everyone remained eerily silent.

Kelley finally cut the cord and handed Tasha the baby. Kelley looked from Castillo to Tasha and back again.

His expression darkened.

"A girl," Kelley said.

But when Tasha pulled back the wrap, she realised why Kelley was concerned.

She was a beautiful wee thing with cherub cheeks and tiny, chunky limbs. She looked a bit like a wrinkled prune, but Richard Castillo thought she was ever so delightful.

There was a mop of blonde curls – but no forehead wrinkles. Even her pruney, red skin was out of character for a Romulan infant. They usually looked nearly green due to the copper in their blood.

But this bundle was a rosy shade of pink.

Tasha's daughter looked human.

Entirely too human.

"Well, since I'm not needed," the Romulan physician remarked.

Without another word, he threw his medical kit over his shoulder and slipped out of the room – running smack into General Morak on the way out.

They spoke in a hushed whisper for a moment before Morak swept into the room. He wasted no time on pleasantries.

Morak took the child from Tasha's arms. He gave her a once over. Morak shook his head, disgusted.

Without a word he handed the child over to one of his Romulan domestics.

"Wh-where are you taking her? What are you doing?" Tasha demanded.

Morak glared at Tasha before turning his attention to Castillo.

"My Lord?" Castillo asked.

"How would you like it done?" the Romulan holding the baby asked.

"Strangle it. Drown it in a bucket. Throw it into the sea for all I care," Morak answered.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Tasha cried. "No! No!"

Morak folded his hands behind him. He was alarmingly composed, a sign that meant he was actually seething beneath his cool exterior.

"I bring you into my home. I give you everything you could ever want. And this is how you repay me?" Morak spat. "Which one was it so that I may drag him out to beg for the life of his whore and her bastard?"

Castillo pieced it together before Tasha did.

"My Lord-" Castillo intervened.

"Silence! Was it you?" Morak roared.

"My Lord. Her ears. The baby's ears," Castillo pleaded.

He had only seen the infant for a brief moment. But in that time, Castillo had noticed her distinct pointed ears.

"I never… I never," Tasha pleaded.

Morak said nothing. He swept out of the room, leaving the rest of them to finish up.

---

Tasha sat, stunned.

She had never wanted this child. But she also couldn't stomach the thought that Morak was likely going to dispose of it before she even had a chance to know her baby.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Kelley said. "We're not done."

After Kelley finished and Tasha was done with the third and final stage of her labour, Castillo helped her onto the bed.

She was nearly catatonic as Richard used a cold, wet towel to clean her face and neck.

They were nearly alone now.

The Romulans had all left and it was just Kelley now. He was occupied cleaning up the mess.

Richard didn't know what to say to try and comfort Tasha, so he settled for gently stroking her hair while Tasha wept for her child.

The door flew open, and Castillo immediately retracted his hand as if he'd been burned.

Castillo and Kelley dropped to the floor as Morak entered with the child in his arms. The Romulan physician was behind him.

Tasha didn't understand.

Morak sat down on the bed next to Tasha – but did not hand over the baby.

"A blood test has confirmed this child is mine," Morak said.

Tasha didn't answer.

Of course it was Morak's.

No one would dare touch Tasha. The Romulans were repulsed. Most of the other labourers resented her. And even if there was someone out there who didn't, they were all too afraid of Morak's wrath.

"I am both pleased and disappointed," Morak shared.

"Because she is a girl?" Tasha asked softly.

Morak chuckled.

"No, no," Morak cooed as he rocked the baby. "I am disappointed that she hardly looks Romulan – save for her ears."

The baby squirmed as Morak's finger traced the shell of her pointed ear.

"I am sure she will look like you. Beautiful in a way," Morak remarked. "But not a single thought in that silly little human brain."

Tasha flinched as Morak painfully flicked her forehead.

"But I am pleased by the news that she is my daughter," Morak said.

Tasha relaxed a little.

Morak handed the baby to Richard Castillo so he could speak to Tasha directly. Castillo had to check himself not to react as the baby gripped his finger.

She was the smallest, dearest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

"Oh, you are so strong," Castillo whispered, smiling down at the girl in his arms.

Morak cupped Tasha's face.

"I will permit you to keep the child. I think it will bring you happiness and perhaps humility," Morak said. "And you may name her. Consider it a gift."

In truth, Morak had no desire to bestow a Romulan name on this baby. Romulan naming custom followed strict rules of protocol. He wasn't going to waste a family name on this bastard.

Morak could have cared less for this baby. But he did see it as an opportunity to control Tasha. Morak understood he could weaponise this child to gain compliance in a way he never had before.

Tasha's heart was too tender to refuse.

"There will be more. Many more. In time we will have a child that is fit to be acknowledged as my heir. But you may keep this one to amuse you," Morak explained.

Tasha fought the urge to shudder as Morak stroked her hair.

"You are so lovely. And Doctor Ruchek assures me in perfect health for breeding," Morak went on.

Tasha wanted to vomit.

Morak smiled.

"I cannot tell you how relieved I was to learn this is my child," Morak said.

Without warning, Morak snapped. His fingers closed around Tasha's throat.

"For if you ever betray me I will make you regret it. I could snap that baby's neck without a second thought if you displease me," Morak said in a menacing voice.

He released Tasha and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Then Morak glanced over to the bundle in Castillo's arms.

"And perhaps in time she will grow into more Romulan features?" Morak suggested.

Morak traced his fingers down over the side of Tasha's neck and over her collarbone. She didn't want to be touched at all, she felt wretched.

But she was in no position to refuse.

"Tell me, Doctor? How long before my jewel can fulfil her duties as my consort?" Morak asked.

Tasha was horrified.

She wanted to collapse from exhaustion. She hadn't slept in two days. She had a newborn daughter that would require constant care.

But Morak didn't see any of that. He didn't see a person – only what he could use.

Tasha felt shattered.

She wept as the Romulan physician and Kelley discussed her body like it was some kind of object. They couldn't agree on a timeframe.

Kelley advised six weeks as was standard for human physiology.

The Romulan doctor sighed heavily.

"In my expert opinion, human physiology is far too weak. I would say eight or ten weeks before you resume any vaginal or anal penetrative activities."

His voice was tainted with disapproval for Morak's fascination with this human.

"I want that shortened. Cut in half," Morak ordered.

He turned back to Tasha and gripped her chin, running his thumb across her bottom lip.

"Until then we will make do in other ways," Morak commented.

Tasha had reached her breaking point.

"Please don't," she sobbed. "I can't. I can't."

Morak pulled her into his arms.

"Shhh. There, there. Now I was going to give you some time. A few days to recover," Morak said. "But I can see now that you are ungrateful."

He squeezed Tasha almost painfully to drive home his point.

"So you will come to my quarters after final meal. And I expect you to be cleaned and dressed to my specifications. And let this be the last time you forget my generosity," Morak said.

Castillo watched from the corner as Morak left.

As soon as the room was clear, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to Tasha.

Tasha fell back against the bed.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered.

It was hard enough to feign compliance before. Now that Tasha had absolutely no energy nor desire to even pretend for safety, she feared she would only infuriate Morak.

And he would hurt her daughter.

The baby was starting to fuss. It had been nearly half and hour since her birth. Castillo was no expert, but instinct told him this child needed to feed.

"She's hungry," Castillo said. "And I think she wants her mother."

Tasha took her daughter and relaxed as the baby started to feed.

"Why couldn't I be lucky and die in childbirth? Save all this pain?" Tasha mused aloud. "My poor child. What have I done to you?"

Tasha was overcome with guilt. Not only had she trapped all of the remaining survivors from the Enterprise-C in this life – now she had brought an innocent child into hell.

"She's so beautiful. And strong," Castillo said with a smile.

He stroked the back of his finger over the baby's cheek.

"And so loved," Castillo added.

For the first time all day, Tasha met his eyes. He had been her constant companion, the only person that was kind to her in this life.

Their liaison on Narendra III in the wake of the destruction of the Enterprise-C had been anything but typical. Both Tasha and Castillo had thought they were going to die on that planet.

Their fear, uncertainty, and begrudging partnership had devolved into uncontrolled passion.

And they had relished every second of that time together.

Now it was nothing more than a memory. And that physical connection had transferred to real, deep love.

From afar.

In another life, Tasha wouldn't mind this scene if the child in her arms had been Richard's. He would never have treated her like Morak or forced her to give birth surrounded by enemies yet still alone and terrified.

At the very least, Castillo would be present to help her.

Morak trusted Castillo. And the baby's paternity only reinforced that trust. Castillo was often left alone to guard Tasha on Morak's orders.

It wasn't the way either of them wanted to enjoy this domestic bliss – but Tasha welcomed his support, nonetheless.

"What will you call her?" Castillo asked.

The baby squirmed and cooed, breaking free of her feed. For the first time all day, Tasha smiled.

"Sela," Tasha answered. "It was my grandmother's name. It means sunshine."

Tasha massaged her daughter's hand.

"Yes. Hello, Sela. Hi baby," Tasha said. "My sweet little lightning bug."

---

Present

Captain Picard, Data, Deanna, and Commander Riker were huddled in the corridor. For more than two hours they had grilled Lieutenant Castillo about details on these alleged Romulan threats.

Jean-Luc was still trying to wrap his head around it.

Guinan had urged Picard to speak with Castillo. But the man was speaking in riddles.

"He's still withholding information. But he genuinely believes these threats about a cloaked starbase and a Romulan invasion," Deanna notified the others.

She paused and frowned.

"His fear of these 'mechs' is sincere," Deanna added.

Riker shrugged.

"Not anything I recognise," Riker commented.

"I have analysed all Starfleet records. There was an account from 2153 that detailed an unknown lifeform with similar characteristics," Data advised.

He'd been simultaneously checking during their interview.

"But that lifeform was destroyed. It did relay a signal that Starfleet traced in origin to the Delta Quadrant. But it would take hundreds of years for any contact with a lifeform there," Data said.

"Could it be the same?" Picard asked.

"I believe that is highly improbable. Any species sophisticated enough to create such technology would likely not be the 'mechs' described by Lieutenant Castillo," Data said.

Castillo had shared all he knew about the awkward, shuffling, and mostly silent mechanical men he'd encountered. In a way, they seemed to be completely unaware of their surroundings.

"He said they were like drones. It is possible they could be nothing more than that. Even crude automatons," Data theorised.

As an exobiologist and an android, Data was intrigued. He even considered it was possible these lifeforms were similar to him in a way.

But the more Castillo described, the more Data got the impression they were nothing more than fancy probes designed to study their environment and collect resources.

---

The Captain swept back into the Observation Lounge with the rest of his interview team in tow.

It was time for a new approach.

"I'd like to redirect back to the Enterprise-C," Picard began.

"Captain. Starfleet needs to be made aware of the Romulan plan to-" Castillo began to protest.

Jean-Luc put up one hand to silence him.

"Rest assured, Mr Castillo, we are grateful for your information and my team is looking into it," Picard said.

Castillo was not impressed. He'd been in enough briefings to know when a Captain was dismissive.

"I noticed you only brought these threats to our attention after we pushed you for more information," Riker observed.

It was possible this was all a distraction.

"Why didn't you mention them immediately?" Riker pressed.

They went back and forth for some time, but Castillo could sense he was losing their confidence. Even Data had grown sceptical.

"I can't answer that," Castillo said.

"Then what about Romulus? How did you escape?" Picard questioned.

"I told you, we fled Romulus in 2356. We've been on the run since," Castillo said.

The answer did little to satisfy their curiosity.

"But how did you escape?" Picard asked.

"I can't answer that," Castillo replied, doing his best not to get angry.

Castillo fell back against his chair and put his hands up.

"No," he said suddenly.

Deanna could sense he was shutting down. This had been her fear in questioning the survivors so soon.

"Take me back to Sickbay. Lock me up in the Brig. I don't care. I'm done," Castillo said. "I can't answer your questions. I wish I could."

He paused as a pained expression crossed his face.

"You have no idea how much I wish I could tell you. But I fear I've already said more than I should have," Castillo concluded.

---

Tasha had been summoned to take Castillo to the Brig. After completing the intake assessment, Tasha began her search.

"I'm sorry about this. Standard procedure," Tasha said.

She could sense he was nervous about having to strip. It had been years since she had last seen Castillo's body.

Not her. At least not yet. Castillo reminded himself.

"I'm an old man," Castillo said.

"I'm not interested in your… extremities," Tasha assured him.

She handed Castillo a clean shirt and then gestured for him to step behind a screen for privacy.

"Right," Castillo said, catching on.

They had never been afforded that kind of privacy or dignity during their captivity and it was hard to readjust.

Before she left, Tasha confiscated all of the items he had on his person. It was standard procedure – not that he had much.

A basic knife. A worn multitool.

"Be careful with that!" Castillo called out.

He panicked when Tasha took the blue ribbon from his shirt pocket.

"All your items will be checked in and kept in safe storage," Tasha said.

"Just please be careful with that," Castillo pleaded.

---

Tasha sat at the console behind the Brig office as she worked to complete the intake paperwork. She understood why Captain Picard had taken Castillo to the Brig – but it still didn't sit right.

She chuckled as she inspected his clothing.

They were frayed – threadbare. But Tasha was amused to find pockets sewn inside the sleeves and the underside of the shirt.

Tasha had the same habit.

After bagging his clothes, she moved onto the other items that had been found on Castillo's person.

The tools were old and dilapidated, but well maintained. The multitool was Starfleet issue and stamped at the time of production in 2337.

Probably got it at the Academy. Tasha thought.

Tasha turned her attention to the faded blue ribbon. It was obvious it mattered a great deal with Mr Castillo.

Tasha ran her fingers over the piece. It was lovely but worn from years of use. It had started to come apart on one end. Castillo did everything he could to keep it intact – even melting the edges.

But with each passing year, it became weaker.

As she admired the ribbon, Tasha caught sight of a marking on the inside. Tasha delicately peeled back the seam to examine the label.

Tasha dropped the ribbon.

She clutched her hands close to her chest to stop them from shaking.

Garak.

Suddenly, Tasha recalled Castillo's words from earlier.

I lost someone very important to me recently. A child.

---

Richard Castillo was lying on his cot, grateful for his surroundings.

It was the Brig.

But he had a warm bed. And a nice Ensign had dropped by with a meal. There was running water, a real toilet, and even a proper toothbrush.

He wept.

And then she appeared.

Tasha punched in her access code and dropped the shield grid protecting the cell in order to enter.

"Here," she said, handing back the blue ribbon.

Castillo blinked in confusion.

"I don't understand. You're returning it?" he asked.

"This was… it belonged to the child. Didn't it?" Tasha asked.

Castillo nodded.

He closed his eyes and brought the ribbon to his chest, grateful to be reunited with the only thing he had left of his girl.

Tasha couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been to have a child while in captivity.

"What was her name?" Tasha asked.

"Sela," Castillo answered.

His body tensed.

Richard kicked himself for revealing that information. He had never meant to share that with anyone – especially not Tasha.

She stumbled back in shock and rushed out of the Brig without a word.

Castillo curled up on his cot, clutching the ribbon and the memories of the girl he loved.

---

Romulus | 2346

Sela wiggled and clapped her hands together.

She looked down at her foot and erupted with bubbling laughter as Tasha tickled her toes.

Sela was all of eight months old and already showing her wee personality. She liked bath time and snuggling.

Thunderstorms were scary.

Fuulop berries were a favourite and mushy peas were a hard no.

Richard Castillo watched from his post over near the door as Tasha scooped up her daughter. Sela giggled. It was the kind of warm laughter that filled the entire room.

Sela was their wee ball of sunshine.

Tasha spied him watching out of the corner of her eye.

"Say hello," Tasha said, kissing her daughter's cheek.

She picked up Sela's arm, showing her how to wave.

When Castillo waved back, Sela dove. She buried her head against mum's chest because she was far too shy to wave back.

"Awww," Tasha cooed as she rocked her girl.

Richard watched as Sela peeked out and grinned, flashing him a grin with all three of her tiny teeth. He gave her a small wave and Sela scrambled to hide again.

Tasha looked up from above her daughter and shared a smile with Richard. He longed to bottle that moment in time.

He lingered on those pale blue eyes – longer and more frequently than he should have.

And they would be his undoing.