Author's Note: Thank you again for all your support! I'm loving all the messages & notes about the hate for Morak. He is so awful! He's going to get what he deserves one day – but that won't be until much later in this series.

Also, to answer a few questions – yes. The baby that Castillo dreamed of was named after one of Tasha's brothers that she lost on Turkana.

Sela also shares a middle name with Richard's mother, Lucia. It's a subtle middle finger to Morak. (More on that to come in The Crease in the Fabric of Time)

In this series, the Khitomer massacre took place in 2344 instead of 2346. Also, Worf had two younger siblings. He believes both were killed on Khitomer. As this series progresses, we'll see there are more threads between Tasha and Worf than even they realise.

And much as Worf and Kurn will come to represent the brothers Tasha lost on Turkana, she also comes to fill the role of the sister they lost on Khitomer.

Sela's line about her desires is tied to the title and taken from Bowie's Blackstar.

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.

"And I didn't know what to say," Beverly confessed. "I always dreaded what would happen when he became a teenager. I thought if he was anything like me, then he'd be a right terror."

Beverly paused and sighed.

"I never thought I'd have to actually drag him out of his room just to eat dinner," Beverly said.

She groaned as she picked at her grapefruit.

"He's not even sure he wants to go to the school disco on Friday. Worried he'll fall behind on his physics project," Beverly added.

She glanced up from her plate and frowned.

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly prompted.

He didn't respond. He was lost in thought as he stared down at his cup of tea.

They were sharing breakfast like they usually did. Beverly knew this business of the Enterprise-C weighed heavily on Captain Picard. So, in an effort to give his mind a break, Beverly kept the conversation light.

It wasn't working.

"Jean-Luc? What's wrong?" Beverly asked.

"Forgive me, I was focused on my breakfast," Picard lied.

"And yet your plate sits untouched," Beverly noted.

Picard sat back in his seat. He had a determined look on his face.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed.

Beverly wanted to reach across the table, to take his hand and assure him that things would be alright. But that was a step too far, too close to breaking down the wall they'd built between them.

So, she settled for verbal reassurance.

"You don't have to do this alone," Beverly said in soft voice. "Whatever you say, whatever it is – it stays in this room."

She was offering him an out. It was a chance to unburden himself.

Captain Picard knew that he could trust Beverly. Such an understanding was a hallmark of their long friendship.

But he didn't want to share this burden with her – he couldn't do that to Beverly.

"Jean-Luc, please," Beverly said, imploring him.

For a fleeting moment, Captain Picard considered opening up. He opened his mouth to speak and was promptly cut off by a hail from the Bridge.

"Captain, we're receiving an urgent communication request. Priority one. It's an encoded message on a secure channel from the Yamato," Lieutenant Hawk's voice chimed in over the comms system.

Jean-Luc flashed Beverly a sympathetic look.

"I'll take it in here," Picard responded.

"Days, Jean-Luc! You have kept me waiting for three days!" Captain Varley roared.

Varley shook his head in disbelief.

"I've been worried out of my mind. When I didn't hear back, I thought I'd sent you to your death!" Varley went on.

His eyes narrowed.

"What did you find?" Varley asked.

Picard shrugged.

"What did you find?" Varley pressed.

"It's difficult to explain," Picard answered.

The line of Donald Varley's mouth grew thin.

"To be honest, it's very difficult to explain," Picard said in a terse tone.

He could sense Varley was less than impressed with his answer.

"Well, if we're being honest, it's hard to accept that answer when you've been ignoring me. Makes me wonder just why you're avoiding my questions," Varley countered.

Captain Picard remained motionless.

Varley sat forward in his chair.

It wasn't like Picard to clam up. He'd always been a direct man.

"My God, you did find something," Varley realised.

Varley himself had wanted to investigate the mysterious signal from Romulan space. It wasn't that he was eager to cross the Neutral Zone – rather Varley didn't feel right about sending another ship into such dangerous territory.

Only Varley's secret mission chasing Iconian artefacts was too important.

Now that he saw the toll this took on Picard, Varley felt guilty for sending him in the first place.

"What did you find out there?" Varley asked again.

"The next time you get the idea to go poking around the Neutral Zone – you do it yourself," Picard responded.

"Well, everything seems to check out," Tasha said.

She climbed out from under Data's workstation and sat back on her knees.

For over an hour, they'd worked in tandem to run a complete sweep of Data's quarters. They had found no evidence of any surveillance devices.

It was a relief – though they still didn't have an answer as to why Captain Picard had locked down the audio files on the Enterprise-C.

Tasha gripped Data's hands.

"I know you're bothered by it. But I'm sure Captain Picard has a good reason," Tasha said.

"I hope you are correct," Data replied.

The communications system pinged.

"Senior officers report to the Observation Lounge."

A look passed between Data and Tasha.

"Perhaps we will get an answer?" Data suggested.

It wasn't the answer Data had been expecting.

In fact, it was the answer he'd waited for.

Only now that he'd received it – he realised he would rather have an answer to Captain Picard's mysterious motivation for restricting the Enterprise-C audio files.

Data didn't want to complain.

After all, Captain Picard had finally agreed to grant his request. Data and Geordi would get a shot to study the captured Romulan vessel in depth.

But it was odd.

"Have you obtained any new information from the survivors?" Riker questioned.

"I am speaking with them," Picard responded.

Deanna could sense the Captain was holding back.

"I would like to sit in and-" Riker began to say.

Only Captain Picard was quick to shut him down.

"No, Number One. I need you to work with Mr Data and Lieutenant La Forge to oversee their study of the Romulan ship," Picard said.

He was making busy work to occupy them, to keep them all away from the survivors.

And every single one of the officers knew it.

"Isaacson's back on the injury roll. Ankle. Again," Tasha said.

Worf didn't respond.

"They'd had to put Reed in so often to substitute they should really just swap them," Tasha remarked.

Worf was completely fixated on his tricorder as he scanned the hatch that led to the Bridge on the Romulan ship.

It was eerie being on the ship alone.

Tasha and Worf had beamed over to give it a thorough scan before Data and Geordi's team would move in to investigate.

The interior still bore the scars of her last battle – the one that had claimed the lives of so many when they were close enough to taste freedom.

"Did you see that overtime play from Auckland?" Tasha asked.

She was greeted with silence.

"Do you want to watch the game together on Friday? Should be a good one," Tasha inquired.

Worf grunted in response.

"Oi! What is your problem today?" Tasha asked.

Worf stopped scanning the damaged weapons terminal and glanced up.

"This console has sustained considerable damage. Perhaps Lieutenant La Forge and Commander Data can still extract valuable information from it?" Worf suggested, completely ignoring Tasha's question.

She shot him a dirty look from across the room.

"This is a tremendous opportunity to study our enemy's technology," Worf pointed out.

"Yeah – Data's going to be over the moon," Tasha replied.

It was all he and Geordi had talked about for the last three days.

"Worf," Tasha said.

"I would simply like to work undisturbed," Worf snapped. "This is important work. And if war is imminent – then we will need every advantage to destroy the Romulans."

He resumed his scan while grumbling under his breath.

Tasha closed her tricorder and slipped it back into the holster at her waist. Worf saw her shadow on the console but did not look up.

"Worf?" Tasha asked softly.

"Romulans are without honour. They will roll into this quadrant and kill anyone that opposes them," Worf said. "And right now, we may be the only ones opposing them."

He was visibly shaken.

"They do not care about who they hurt. They have no rules, no code – except to conquer," Worf went on.

This wasn't just about duty. For Worf, this was personal.

"They slaughtered thousands on Khitomer," Worf explained. "It was a farming colony. Nothing more."

He paused and growled.

"Children. The elderly. It mattered not. They killed volunteers and civilians alike in spite of a Non-Aggression Treaty with the Klingon Empire," Worf barked.

They were supposed to be allies.

"They killed my family," Worf said.

Tasha reached for his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sorry," Tasha said, unsure of what else to say.

She had known Worf was orphaned. But it was rare for him to talk about that experience.

"I'm sorry about your parents," Tasha said.

"The Romulans killed my parents. My sister. My brother," Worf spat. "They were babies. Not yet weaned from my mother's breast. And the Romulans butchered them."

Worf seethed with years' worth of pent up resentment.

"You cannot begin to fathom the depths of Romulan brutality," Worf said.

He found them to be the lowest of enemies. In Worf's eyes they represented the very worst. Even the Ferengi had a code by which they lived.

Romulans had nothing except cold, unrestrained ambition.

"They are coming. And we must be ready," Worf concluded.

"I think we'll leave the core in place, but I'd like to take a few of the memory chips back to the lab for further study," Geordi said.

Data and Geordi were in Data's lab assembling their go-kit to take aboard the ship.

They were just waiting on the all-clear from Tasha.

Geordi was ecstatic. This was his first chance to get a real look at Romulan technology up close and personal.

On the other hand, Data seemed to be a world away.

"I guess we'll finally get the chance to see if those rumours about their power optimisation are really true," Geordi commented.

"Yes. Most intriguing," Data said in a manner that sounded like he couldn't have cared less.

Geordi scowled.

"You alright?" Geordi asked.

"I am fine," Data replied quickly.

Too quickly.

"Data? I thought you would be excited about this! It's like I'm talking to a statue," Geordi said.

"Forgive me, I did not activate my rest programme until a late hour last night," Data answered.

It was partially true.

Unable to return to bed, Richard had replicated breakfast for two.

Real breakfast.

It was a proper fry up with eggs, toast, fried tomato, a rasher of bacon, square sausage, mushrooms, beans, tattie scones, and ripe strawberries.

For years the men had subsisted on porridge and pottage, dried fruits, and nuts – whatever they could salvage.

Once a while they managed to trap Krelog. It was a small, rabbit-like creature. But they were rare and there was hardly any meat on them.

Ghost had tried to domesticate them in hopes they would breed like rabbits.

But like everything else on Tantalus – there was no success in that endeavour.

Castillo hummed to himself as he arranged everything on a long tray. This was a meal for two, a meal meant to be shared.

Castillo headed out of his quarters with one destination in mind.

Roosevelt laughed as Castillo pulled back the lid to reveal his breakfast.

"Breakfast fit for a king!" he exclaimed.

"Well, I can think of no one more deserving," Castillo said as he sliced the sausage for Roosevelt.

Roosevelt's wounds were severe. He'd taken plasma burns to a considerable portion of his body. His leg was broken along with several vertebrae.

Doctor Crusher didn't like his odds for survival.

And that was part of why Richard felt he owed him this.

"You shouldn't be eating that Sickbay slop," Richard said.

"It's not half as bad as I thought it would be," Roosevelt replied. "Better than what we've been eating."

He laughed and then hissed with pain.

"I don't know if I'm going to make it out of this," Roosevelt confessed.

Castillo took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was one of the only areas of his body that hadn't been impacted by the plasma burns.

"Nonsense. You're the toughest person I know," Richard said.

Roosevelt grimaced.

"Please don't make me laugh, Coyote," Roosevelt said.

Castillo's heart went out to him. Roosevelt had been young when the Enterprise-C went down. He was just a lad barely two years out of the Academy.

"Look, I've got a sister in Galveston. Well, she was in Galveston. She was just kid when-"

Castillo shushed him.

"None of that now. You're going to get through this. You have to. You've got all the plans to hit Freecloud," Castillo teased.

He was hoping to cheer Roosevelt up and to offer him hope.

"Those ladies aren't going to want to come near me. Not now," Roosevelt replied.

"And you think you were much to look at before? This is an improvement," Richard said.

"And I'm still better looking than you," Roosevelt threw back without missing a beat.

The two men shared a laugh. They'd always gotten along by ribbing one another. It was just the way they occupied their time, a way to survive.

Humour was a necessity in the darkness.

Suddenly, Doctor Crusher emerged to check on Roosevelt's vitals.

"Oh..uh, look Doc. This was my fault. I know that-" Richard began to stammer.

Beverly smiled as she gave Roosevelt a once over with her tricorder.

"It's quite alright. I'm not going to throw you out for bringing in breakfast," Beverly assured him. "In any case, Mr Roosevelt here could use a good meal. Needs to build up his strength."

Both men seemed to perk up.

"I'm doing well then?" Roosevelt asked, surprised.

He felt like death.

"Told you. You're too stubborn to die," Richard said.

"I'm going to upload this into your care chart, and I'll check back after your breakfast," Beverly said with a wink.

Roosevelt visibly relaxed.

"That Doctor. She's not all bad, you know? Tough – but I'm glad we wound up in her Sickbay," Roosevelt remarked as he struggled to get his fork into a piece of egg.

Beverly had been firm but upbeat. And for men that had been so abused, she was a godsend. Beverly's training and experience equipped her to treat her patients in a way that was cognizant of their trauma.

"You're in good hands," Richard said.

Beverly watched the two from the corner of her office.

She was grateful Mr Castillo had stopped in. It was evident he cared deeply for the welfare of his men.

And though his spontaneous breakfast was a violation of Sickbay protocols, Beverly wasn't going to deny Roosevelt that privilege.

At this point, there was little Beverly could do save for palliative care. She wanted him to be comfortable and happy.

She would check in after his breakfast and break the news, take any final instructions, and stay with him until the end.

But she wasn't going to disturb this breakfast between friends - it would likely be his last meal.

"Thank you for coming so promptly," Picard said. "I'm sorry to pull you away from your time in Sickbay."

Jean-Luc had summoned Castillo straight away from Sickbay and up to his Ready Room.

It was shortly before lunch. Castillo had been reluctant to leave Roosevelt, but he knew he had a duty to speak with Captain Picard.

"About my team," Castillo said.

He needed to get that squared away before they started.

"We have moved Lieutenant Crow Ghost and Lieutenant Arandev to guest quarters near your own," Captain Picard.

"But Verax. He shouldn't be in the Brig. He's one of us," Castillo insisted.

Verax was as much a part of their team as any of the rest of them. He'd suffered under General Morak for his belief in a Free Romulan state.

Captain Picard hesitated.

Jean-Luc had yet to inform Starfleet Command of their discovery. He was concerned given the depths of the Romulan infiltration, that these conspirators would seize upon this opportunity to take the survivors, attack the Enterprise, or worse.

Captain Picard had no desire for his ship and crew to meet the same fate as the Horatio.

Or the last ship named Enterprise. Picard thought.

Jean-Luc had a duty to notify Starfleet – eventually.

He was trying to keep the situation under wraps. And the presence of a Romulan in the VIP quarters would only draw attention to the others.

"You can trust Verax. He was a journalist, an activist. He was critical of the Emperor. He spoke out against compulsory service, against serfdom. He campaigned for fair elections to the Senate," Castillo explained.

Richard was visibly distressed by Verax's imprisonment.

"The Tal Shiar killed his family. They threw him in a prison camp. His life was destroyed. He's the last man that should be sitting in a cell," Castillo said. "I urge you to release him."

Picard began to protest, but Richard had thought long and hard about the treatment of his friends.

"I believe you have already locked down all computer access in our quarters. Could you not do the same?" Castillo pressed. "Or he could stay with me. This man is my comrade. My brother."

Richard steeled himself.

"Captain, I won't continue until my men are seen to," Richard asserted.

They were at an impasse.

"Fine. Your men will be granted guest quarters. I will send our Counsellor Troi to drop by and get them settled. And we'll provide meals from our Ten Forward," Picard said.

He intended to disable every computer in those quarters – including the replicators.

Jean-Luc wanted to speak with all of the men eventually. But first he needed to speak with Castillo.

"I'll also be posting guards outside," Picard said.

"So, we'll be prisoners – just in a nicer cage," Castillo said.

His team had been to hell and back. They deserved more.

Jean-Luc did not acknowledge that statement.

"And you understand that we cannot permit any outgoing communication at this time?" Picard asked.

"You haven't told Starfleet about us," Castillo realised.

"Not yet," Picard confessed.

Castillo thought back to his conversation with Tasha the night before. She had referenced vague security parameters that included travel restrictions.

"Then the Romulans are closer than I thought," Castillo remarked.

Picard was shaken.

"We know they've been planning to infiltrate Starfleet and other primary Federation targets – we just didn't know how far they'd gotten," Castillo explained. "But if you're hesitant to even tell Starfleet about us…"

Castillo trailed off and an ominous mood descended upon their conversation.

"I will send Counsellor Troi to take statements from them should they wish to contact their family or friends. But we won't transmit any of those messages yet. I cannot risk Starfleet finding out about this," Picard said.

He paused.

"For your safety as well as our own," Picard said.

Castillo couldn't argue with that.

"And what of your prisoner in the Brig?" Picard asked. "You were most eager to stop me from speaking to him."

Castillo hesitated.

"You have no reason to trust me. None whatsoever. I've lied to you. I've withheld information from you. But it is only to preserve the timeline," Castillo acknowledged. "And I know that you're a good man. I know that you're a man of peace and diplomacy."

Their entire arrangement was built on trust. And it was vital Castillo maintained that.

"The Romulan man that is our prisoner must remain under guard. He is dangerous. And under no circumstances should you allow anyone to interview him yet," Castillo advised.

Jean-Luc had suspected there was more to this. But for the moment, they had more pressing matters.

In any case, Picard was only too happy to leave Proventus in the Brig.

"Done. He'll remain in a cell under guard for now," Picard agreed.

Castillo relaxed. He couldn't risk having Proventus say anything to Tasha directly that might influence the timeline.

And Richard knew that Proventus was both cunning and determined.

"Captain, there are immediately threats that I believe it is prudent we begin-"

"Captain?" Riker's voice boomed over the communications array.

Jean-Luc bristled at the interruption.

"I'm sorry, sir. But you're needed on the Bridge. Right away," Riker announced.

"Admiral, I can assure you we are doing everything we can to reach our mission on Pacifica," Commander Riker said.

Admiral Aaron's displeasure radiated from his body. His expression was grim. There was a small vein in his left temple that throbbed each time Commander Riker spoke.

"As I've said, we encountered a wormhole that deposited us near Sector 30. Our engines took considerable damage. We nearly had to eject our warp core," Riker lied.

He put his best acting chops to use in an effort to really sell it.

"Unacceptable," Admiral Aaron responded.

It seemed word of the Enterprise's mysterious absence from Pacifica had reached Starfleet brass. When she failed to check in, it triggered an investigation.

Admiral Aaron's urgent hail only reinforced suspicion that the Enterprise was under surveillance from Starfleet Command.

According to Admiral Aaron, Starfleet was using long-range sensors to keep tabs on the ship and the Neutral Zone. It was how they realised the Enterprise was near the Neutral Zone in the first place.

"I want to speak with your Chief Engineer. Now," Aaron demanded.

"Of course. Mr La Forge?" Riker prompted.

He instructed Data to open a channel to Engineer.

"Geordi? I'm sorry to interrupt your very busy schedule. But I have Admiral Aaron from Starfleet Command on an emergency subspace channel," Riker prefaced. "He wants to know about the damage to our warp core and the status of our repairs."

Riker could only hope Geordi would pick up on the plan.

"I've already advised him it could be days before we regain warp capability," Riker added.

"Of course, I'd be happy to discuss the repairs with you, Admiral," Geordi said.

He had immediately identified what was going down on the Bridge.

"Perhaps we should dispatch a ship to assist?" Admiral Aaron suggested.

"Wouldn't make any difference, Admiral," Geordi said in a jovial tone. "I appreciate your offer – but our warp core was dislodged from alignment. It will take at least another seventy-two hours for the radiation levels to dissipate before we can begin our repairs."

Riker wanted to shout with glee at Geordi's brilliance.

Admiral Aaron's face turned a nasty shade of purple.

"Thank you, Geordi," Riker said before disconnecting the channel.

But Admiral Aaron wasn't finished. He was under strict orders from his own shadowy Romulan overseer to find out exactly what the Enterprise was up to.

The Romulans that had infiltrated Starfleet didn't trust Captain Picard. The Enterprise remained one of the primary targets where they had failed to plant a foothold.

This latest detour only fuelled suspicion that Picard was onto them.

Jean-Luc slipped through the door just in time to watch an interesting exchange. He hung in the back, curious to get context before stepping in.

"Android," Aaron barked as he turned to address Data. "Your file states you are programmed to follow orders."

It was evident Admiral Aaron didn't recognise Data's sentience.

"I order you to tell me if what your Chief Engineer has said is true? Would this radiation really take days before you can begin repairs?" Aaron asked.

Everyone on the Bridge held their breath.

Data wasn't entirely comfortable lying. It left him with a sickly feeling deep in the pit of his chest cavity. Though he recognised the safety of everyone on board, perhaps even Starfleet itself, depended upon his answer.

"Admiral, when a warp core detaches from alignment, radiation floods the immediate area. On a Galaxy-class ship such as the Enterprise, that includes three decks of designated Engineering space," Data explained. "The radiation levels from a warp core misalignment are lethal to most humanoids."

Jean-Luc had a fairly good idea what had transpired.

And he applauded Data for his quick thinking.

"I insist you return to Pacifica immediately," Aaron ordered.

"And we'd like to as quickly as we can, Admiral," Riker answered.

Jean-Luc strolled down the ramp to the centre of the Bridge.

"Perhaps if there were more damn outposts left out here we might have been able to make use of a Starport repair facility and radiation decontamination system instead of limping back to Pacifica?" Picard said with a smug attitude.

He stopped and turned to the viewscreen.

"Maybe you could put in a word to the Fleet Officer that made that decision to close the facilities on Starbase 90 or the Frestronian Outpost?" Picard asked.

He blinked slowly, awaiting an answer.

"Nothing to say, Admiral?" Jean-Luc pressed.

Suddenly he clutched his forehead.

"Oh, forgive my ignorance. I recall it was you that closed those stations. Correct?" Picard went on, rubbing it in.

He was counting on Aaron's complicity to be enough to be enough to earn the Admiral's silence on the matter. After all, it wouldn't look good to be the man responsible for stranding the flagship on the edge of Federation space.

"We'll do everything we can to get back to our important survey mission on Pacifica," Picard said, his voice dripping with feigned enthusiasm.

The minute the channel disconnected, Captain Picard scanned the faces of his team on the Bridge.

"I'm afraid they're onto us," Picard said. "Mr Crusher, please lay in a course for Pacifica at the slowest possible speed. In twenty minutes, I want you to take us to maximum impulse for two and half minutes."

Jean-Luc had always been good at slipping out of duty in his youth.

"Then bring us back down to all-stop," Picard said before turning to Riker. "If Admiral Aaron hails again, advise we overtaxed our impulse engines in an effort to comply with his orders."

Riker grinned.

"With pleasure, sir," Riker responded.

That would at least buy them another few hours before they had to start moving again.

The clock was ticking. Jean-Luc was now on a firm deadline.

His decision had been made for him.

"I'm afraid we're on a deadline," Picard said as he returned to his Ready Room.

Castillo chuckled.

"Time," Castillo remarked, shaking his head.

After giving instructions not to be disturbed, Picard escorted Mr Castillo off the Bridge and down to his own guest quarters.

Captain Picard had wanted to keep him off the Bridge lest they receive another surprise hail.

He also wanted Castillo to feel at ease.

This wasn't an interrogation. It was just a conversation.

"I want you to tell me everything," Picard said.

"Captain, I think it's best if we start with the most pressing threat," Castillo suggested.

Picard nodded for him to continue.

"You mentioned a Romulan invasion," Picard prompted.

Castillo put up a hand to stop them.

"First we need to talk about the lifeform we encountered in the Beta Quadrant," Richard said.

Picard frowned.

"Yes. You mentioned a secondary threat. These 'mechs' you called them. But the invasion-"

"These mechs are worse," Castillo said.

Picard froze.

"Worse than the Romulans?" Picard asked.

Castillo lifted his eyebrows and glanced out the window.

"Well, you don't want to meet them," Richard answered. "I lost a lot of good people chasing them."

They were unlike anything Castillo had ever encountered.

Automatons.

Robots.

He couldn't be certain.

"They're like man and machine melded together," Richard shared. "Terrifying. Like zombies with wires and cables coming out of 'em."

Castillo shuddered.

"At first we thought they were created by the Romulans. But Verax will tell you – these creatures go against everything Romulans believe in."

Romulans abhorred artificial intelligence.

"He calls them Ganmadan," Richard said.

"The Romulan day of annihilation," Picard said.

Castillo was stunned. Romulans were guarded in their belief system and rarely shared details with outsiders.

"I'm surprised you would know of it," Castillo confessed.

"The Romulans stole it from the Iconians. And I'm something of an amateur enthusiast," Picard said with a wry smile.

He listened patiently as Castillo described their sporadic encounters with this mysterious lifeform.

"About a year ago two of my people encountered them while on a scouting mission. They radioed contact and then stayed to observe them for a time," Castillo said. "They were disassembling a Romulan communications array."

That was why they had initially thought they were working for the Romulans.

"There weren't any Romulans in sight, so we assumed they were robots or mechanical aides," Castillo went on.

Richard paused.

"Then about a month later, we encountered them again on a different planet. Same thing – it was like they were scrapping the facility for any usable materials," Castillo said.

It only served to reinforce the notion these mechs were of Romulan design.

"Shortly thereafter, one of our scouting parties radioed observing them again while conducting covert surveillance of a Romulan satellite," Castillo said. "They never returned. We presumed the Romulans got hold of them."

He paused and frowned.

"But now I don't think that's the case," Castillo continued. "You see, not long after I was on a mission with the man lying in Sickbay now. We saw these mechs. And they were fighting with the Romulans. They took them as prisoners on their ship."

Richard had seen them leading Romulan captives away onto a small vessel.

"Then we started picking up on reports. Romulan outposts destroyed. Ships missing. All in the same sector we encountered these mechs," Castillo explained. "You could draw a map from one place to the next on their path of destruction."

It was a disturbing pattern.

"At first I thought we might have found an ally out there, someone in the Beta Quadrant that was actually a match for the Romulans," Castillo said.

His expression darkened.

"What happened?" Picard asked.

"We spent weeks trying to find them again," Castillo said.

He had tried to make contact.

"There was no talking to them. No conversation. No reasoning. They simply came at us," Castillo said. "It took four men including two Klingon warriors to take one of them down."

They had nearly lost Ahn during that attack.

"They were unstoppable. We ran for the ship. Cloaked immediately. Flew out of their like a bat out of hell," Castillo said.

The very memory of it sent a chill down his spine.

"They just kept repeating the same phrase over and over again," Castillo said.

Intermixed among the nightmares of his captivity, Castillo occasionally encountered the mechs.

"A warning?" Picard asked.

Richard lifted his head to meet the Captain's eyes.

"Resistance is futile," Richard answered.

Captain's Log. Stardate 25421.7. We've entered the Mrentran star system to begin our survey of the area. The repair to our aft hull following the quantum filament we hit three days ago has been completed.

Captain's Log. Stardate 25409.3. I am pleased to report that Lieutenant Proctor and Lieutenant Gore's nuptials were a success. It was my esteemed honour to officiate their wedding. A luau was held in their honour in the recreation lounge. Lieutenant Castillo tried his hand at the holodeck surfing programme – I don't think he'll be trying that anytime soon again.

Personal Log, Lieutenant Leslie Fairholm. Stardate 25398.9. An outbreak of Orion Prelsun Rash has left us scrambling in Sickbay. We're short on cots, ointment, and even the Greltor reeds necessary to make more. Doctor Rush and Lieutenant Kelley have been working around the clock to develop an alternative.

Second Officer's Log. Stardate 25438.6. We've received disturbing reports that Federation efforts to make First Contact with the elusive race known as the Jarada have failed – ending in the slaughter of the Starfleet delegation.

Data sat back and took a few seconds to allow his system to operate at a slower level.

He was frustrated.

After concluding his sweep of the Romulan ship with Geordi, Data had retired to his lab to conduct a little investigation of his own.

He'd listened to more than a thousand personal and official logs from the Enterprise-C records in an effort to try and identify the voice in the final recording.

Data was capable of listening to and analysing up to ten audio files simultaneously. Yet in an effort to jog his memory, Data limited himself to four at a time.

And between the birthdays, maintenance logs, and daily reports – he'd come up empty handed.

Suddenly, he was struck with an idea.

Data turned to his computer. His fingers danced across the LCARs screen as he pulled the transfer logs from the Enterprise-C.

It was possible the person responsible for issuing the order to abandon ship had been a recent transfer. That would certainly explain why there were no personal or professional logs that matched their voice.

In that era, ships only transmitted their logs back to Starfleet archives on a monthly basis. But the Enterprise-C's last log dump had only been three days before her disappearance.

There was a good chance Data might find the answer there.

Data's brow furrowed as he skimmed the list of names.

Ensign Ray, Elias M. Starbase Omaha - USS Enterprise NCC-1701-C. Sciences Division.

Crewman Ulrich, Travaldo B. USS Excelsior NCC-2000 - USS Enterprise NCC-1701-C. Operations Division.

Data had already listened to logs from both and eliminated them from his search.

"This will not suffice," Data said aloud.

Jean-Luc and Castillo were standing over the table in Richard's quarters. They were looking at a holographic representation of the star chart of the Neutral Zone and surrounding territories.

"Here," Castillo said, pointing at a subsection of Sector 30.

That was the last place his team had spotted Ekloire Starbase.

"But it's not only capable of moving at impulse power – it can disappear," Richard said.

Jean-Luc was stunned.

"You're telling me the Romulans have discovered how to cloak an entire Starbase?" Picard asked in disbelief.

Richard nodded.

Picard's shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The small communications outpost the Romulans had nearly built in Federation space was one thing.

But a whole starbase?

"It's been operational for three years. Our surveillance indicates this base has the capacity to hold twelve D'deridex class warbirds and can support twelve-thousand troops," Castillo explained.

"A launching point," Picard said.

His heart sank.

"It's more than that. They can transport an entire contingent into this quadrant. They'll have established a foothold and annexed countless worlds before anyone even realises what they're up to," Castillo explained.

His team of rebels had intercepted enough messages to piece together the Romulan plan.

"And no one will be there to oppose them because Starfleet has pulled everyone away. The Neutral Zone sits undefended," Picard said.

He scoffed and shook his head. The words of peace preached by the Vulcan ambassador T'Pel a year earlier were now nothing but hollow promises.

"And there will be no scramble, no effort to defend this quadrant," Picard went on.

The Romulan infiltration of Starfleet had seen to that.

"How could we have let this happen right under our noses?" Jean-Luc pondered aloud.

He felt alone, abandoned.

The institutions and treaties that he had come to rely upon had failed. Diplomacy was a sham. The Vulcan peace efforts were nothing more than a façade.

At heart, Jean-Luc had always wanted to believe that people were the same. That there was far more than united most Romulans and Humans than either side let on.

That underneath the surface of decades of resentment and a cold war there were people who wanted peace – desperately – and that those numbers far outweighed the politics of the situation.

But this situation had shattered Picard's faith.

And now there was nothing standing between the Romulans and the fall of the Federation.

"We've been trying to get word out about this threat for two years," Castillo confessed.

They had limped along from planet to planet with their little shuttle known as the Goldfinch. Their operation was limited in both men and resources.

"But why now? We've had decades of-"

Jean-Luc was hesitant to call it 'peace.'

"Without direct hostilities," Picard said.

Castillo quirked an eyebrow.

"With minimal hostilities," Picard said, correcting himself. "At least – no open aggression."

The Romulans had never acknowledged any involvement with the Enterprise-C incident.

"How much do you know about Romulan politics? Have you ever heard of the United Romulan Front?" Castillo asked.

"Mmm. Yes. The Black Eagles," Picard answered.

He had a basic understanding of the group and their philosophy.

"One of the political parties. A more hardline organisation. Some have even used the word fascist," Picard said.

"They aren't a political party. They are the political party on Romulus," Castillo shared.

Richard Castillo had never been one for politics. In his freshman year at the Academy, he'd joined the model Federation club on the insistence of his roommate – and promptly dropped it in favour of rugby.

Castillo begged for Picard's forgiveness as he did his best to explain the complex political landscape of the Romulan Star Empire.

Jean-Luc listened with rapt attention as Castillo filled him in on the inner workings of the Romulan political scene. According to Castillo, this United Romulan Front was responsible for the build-up of Romulan forces along the Neutral Zone, increasing military presence near the Klingon Empire, and for the false peace overtures.

"The Black Eagles are the most dangerous political machine within the Romulan Empire since the last war," Castillo said. "They're not just interested in annexation of lost territory or strong offensive technologies – they're zealots."

It was a whole different ball game.

"They won't stop because of treaty obligations or for some notion of peace for the greater good. They will work every last Romulan to death in order to produce the weapons and supplies they need to wage this war," Castillo described.

Morak had successfully emboldened every radical Iconian-worshipping Romulan, tapping into their fear and hunger for the glory days of a Romulan Empire that had never truly existed.

"They will destroy themselves in an attempt to win this war – and I fear they will take you with them," Castillo said.

Richard ran a shaky hand back through his greying curls.

"And the man behind it, General Morak Paliurus-"

Castillo paused.

His hands trembled. His face was ashen.

"He's dangerous. Cunning. Cruel," Castillo shared. "And he'll stop at nothing to get what he wants. He doesn't care who he hurts. And he believes he's entitled to rule over everyone."

Ekloire Starbase | Romulan Space

Sela stopped reading. She set her tablet down on the surface of her desk and stopped to massage her temples.

Portunus, one of her shadow hounds, came over and rested his head on mum's lap.

"Hello, my handsome lad," Sela said.

He made a noise of approval as Sela scratched behind his ears. Azura wasn't far behind. She came up and nuzzled against Sela's arm to offer support.

Her dogs could always sense when Sela was overworked.

"I'm sorry, my lady," Merul said with a deep bow.

He and Liran had been tasked with keeping watch at the entrance of Sela's quarters. She was in the adjacent office and had left strict instructions that she was not to be disturbed.

"It's quite alright," Sela assured him. "You just want some love, don't you?"

Her attitude was completely different when she doted on her dogs.

"With your permission, I will take them back to your quarters," Merul offered.

"That's alright. I think it's time to stop for now," Sela said.

She threw her arms up stretched – the first time in hours.

"Long day today, eh? I don't envy you, my lady," Merul said.

"Oh, it's not over yet," Sela replied, looking back over her shoulder.

Merul's face lit up.

Sela chuckled.

"I mean that I will need to resume after evening meal," Sela explained.

Then she pouted.

"Oh, don't let your hopes be dashed yet, Merul," Sela teased. "I'm sure we'll all need to wind down later. And I so look forward to hearing about your first day on the new job."

"Of course, my lady. Thank you, my lady," he said as he backed toward the door.

Merul wasn't just keen on the 'extra duties' that his job entailed. His new role as Sela's personal guard included dining with her and sharing her bed.

The food was decent – a great improvement over the slop they fed most of the fleet. And Merul had never slept in such fine trappings.

He didn't even mind that he had to share with two other men and the dogs.

Though Merul hadn't anticipated such long hours. Sela typically worked anywhere from fourteen to eighteen hours a day.

Even most of her meals were business.

The door to Sela's quarters slid open and Korenus entered.

Sela did not acknowledge his presence.

He approached her desk and bowed low.

"My lady," he said.

Sela didn't respond.

"I have completed my tasks," Korenus announced.

As he had a working knowledge of Romulan politics and Fleet operations, Sela had assigned him to handle some of her more mundane duties.

"How else can I serve you, my lady?" Korenus asked.

He was close.

Too close.

Sela could feel his breath against her ear.

"Should I draw your bath, my lady?" Korenus pressed.

Bathing before evening meal was tradition for Romulans. For the aristocracy, that meant luxurious bathing in their grand marble tubs complete with bath salts, oils, and (for some) a staff ready to offer massage, nail care, or other pampering.

In the military, this ritual continued. Officers and conscripted troops had separate bath houses and were expected to maintain impeccable hygiene. Nail inspection was required nightly before final meal.

Even the lowliest serfs engaged in ritualised bathing before their humble evening meal.

"I have an awful lot of work to complete," Sela snapped.

She wanted to put some space between them. Because if Sela were to be honest with herself – she wanted to close the space between them.

Korenus was dangerous.

Sela had every intention of sharing her bed with him. Hell, that was half the point of hiring him.

But unlike the Uhlans and Centurions Sela usually played with, Korenus was different. He came from the same social background. He wasn't intimidated by Sela's rank or name.

He had the gall to look her in the eye. And Sela found herself drawn to that.

Sela recognised flirting was a problem. She couldn't afford to develop feelings for him.

"My dogs need to be fed," Sela ordered.

She paused to explain the intricacies of their feeding routine. Azura and Portunus ate better than most of the troops on the fleet – and out of latinum dishes no less.

"You will clean their dishes before and after they've fed. And you'll need to brush their teeth when they've finished," Sela instructed. "Then they'll need a bath and they both get a treat afterward. You'll find them in the cold storage unit – they can have the doggy ice cream or the crunchy peanut butter biscuits."

Sela spoiled her dogs. She loved them and they loved her - completely without any strings attached.

Before Korenus could open his mouth, Sela cut him off.

"And you should be grateful for the privilege," Sela added.

"I am," Korenus whispered, his lips hovering less than an inch from her ear.

"You forget your place," Sela replied.

Her tone was cold, but Korenus could sense she was on edge. And he decided to use that to his advantage.

"Of course, my lady. I know my position is underneath you," Korenus growled.

Sela's head whipped around. For a few seconds, she looked uncertain. Sela was at a loss for words.

Then remembering her station, she glared.

Korenus bit back a smirk.

"You insolent… ungrateful…. peasant!" Sela stammered.

She was humiliated that she'd fumbled through that.

"Why were you in my father's office?" Sela demanded.

The question had burned on her mind since she'd first discovered it. She felt betrayed.

"I have little spies of my own," Sela explained.

She straightened her shoulders, eying Korenus with suspicion.

"He asked to know the terms of my employment," Korenus answered.

Sela scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You're lying. He already knew. Do you think you're the first?" Sela asked. "He doesn't care about that."

Korenus dropped his confident attitude in favour of supplication.

"He questioned me about my father," Korenus said.

It was partially true.

Sela fell silent as Korenus dropped to his knees.

"Forgive me if what I am about to say is above my station," Korenus prefaced.

Sela tensed as he reached for her hand.

"Your role is not easy. I know that in your position you must be constantly looking for the next threat, the next plot. It feels like there's no room to breathe," Korenus said.

Korenus knew from experience.

"Your life is duty. Every moment scheduled, every meal is work. You must keep assistants and armed guards. You have to sleep with dogs to protect you because there are Romulans that would sneak in and slit the throat of a little girl," Korenus went on.

Sela knew that to be all too true. Morak had given her Portunas and Azura for that very reason – there were rivals that had tried (and come alarmingly close) to killing Morak's heir.

Korenus kept his eyes on the floor as he squeezed Sela's hand.

"You have never known a moment of peace alone," Korenus said.

Sela's face felt uncomfortably warm. Moisture began to prick at the corner of her eyes. Everything Korenus described was true.

Though Sela often felt isolated, she never got the chance to be alone and free of obligations.

"Please forgive me if my presence in your father's office has caused you distress, Commander," Korenus pleaded.

He risked lifting his chin to look up at Sela.

"I serve at your pleasure, my lady," Korenus said.

He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist.

Sela cleared her throat and retracted her hand.

"So then if you are going to punish me – I accept. I understand if you see the need to beat me, send me away, have me executed," Korenus said.

Without warning, he captured Sela's lips with an ardent kiss. At first, Sela was stunned. She melted as Korenus cupped her face.

When they broke apart, Korenus stayed close. His presence flooded Sela's senses with the kind of self-assurance she so rarely experienced from men.

"I will go a happy man knowing that – at least for a brief moment – I had the pleasure of serving you," Korenus whispered.

Sela was touched.

"My golden eagle," Korenus said fondly as he stroked her hair.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"You have not yet reported back on the Operations meeting," Sela said.

She had sent Korenus in her place.

"I would be remiss in my duties were I to dismiss you before hearing it," Sela said with a thin façade of professionalism.

Sela cried out as her back hit the cool tile.

Korenus grimaced as Sela's nails dug into the flesh at his back.

"Alesco believes we should halt the troop buildup until construction of the barracks is complete," Korenus said.

"Alesco is an idiot," Sela said.

She gasped as Korenus gripped the back of her thighs. In response, Sela slapped him across the face.

"You like it," Korenus said with a smirk.

"I don't recall granting you permission to speak," Sela said.

She felt safe and secure, trapped between the wall of her bath and Korenus's taut body.

"Yes, my lady," Korenus said.

"Sela," she corrected.

"Sela," he murmured.

She was always 'commander' or 'my lady' to everyone. So few people were permitted to call Sela by her name that it felt good to hear it fall from his lips.

Korenus knew exactly what he was doing.

To Korenus, Sela was a sad, lonely little girl. Sela was so starved for affection that Korenus knew she would scramble for any crumb he offered.

And she was a sad, lonely, rich little girl.

One that would bring Korenus wealth and prestige if he played his cards right.

Suddenly, Korenus stopped.

Sela frowned.

To her dismay, he looked away.

"Look at me. Look at me," Sela demanded.

"Forgive me, my lady. I believe it would be safer if I did not," Korenus said.

He did his best to channel the appearance of embarrassment.

"Look at me. I command you," Sela ordered.

Korenus turned back and studied her face.

"I should not," he said softly. "I've lived this life long enough – both sides of it – to know that forbidden relations for the purpose of pleasure are often overlooked as long as they are discreet."

He paused to stroke his thumb across Sela's cheek.

"But I am afraid that if I continue to look upon you, I may find it difficult to deny the feelings that you have-"

Korenus hesitated.

Sela pursed her lips.

"Divines, but you're laying it on thick," Sela remarked.

Korenus didn't laugh. In fact, he was such a good actor that he looked genuinely disappointed.

Sela blinked rapidly.

"I know that you will be a great Empress someday because in the short time I have known you, you have conquered my heart," Korenus said as he rested his forehead against Sela's.

In spite of the steam from the bath, Sela's mouth felt dry.

"Please do not ask me to look at you again," Korenus pleaded.

Sela whimpered as he began to move again.

"Because I fear what I may confess," Korneus murmured.

"Say it," Sela urged.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched his shoulders.

"Say it. Please," she begged.

"I love you," Korenus said.

Sela fought back tears. She'd pleaded with countless men before to say those words. She'd ordered it, paid for it, and pleaded for it.

And for once, someone had said it free of motivation – or so she thought.

It was all Sela wanted to hear.

"I've got a team feeding our tricorder data into the computer now," Geordi said.

Data and Geordi were standing outside of the lift doors as they waited for it to descend. It would be a few hours before they could properly analyse the information obtained from their sweep of the Romulan vessel.

"Want to grab a pint with the Chief and I?" Geordi offered.

Data barely responded.

"Sonya and I are getting together with Reg and Worf later," Geordi suggested.

It was their weekly night for Age of Sail.

"We're going to try the new Coral Sea Expansion," Geordi said.

"No. Thank you," Data replied in a faraway voice.

His mind was still stuck on the Enterprise-C.

"Is everything okay, Data? It's just that you seem a little distracted," Geordi asked.

"I am functioning within normal parameters," Data answered.

Geordi scowled.

"Don't give me that, Data," Geordi said.

Data realised that he would need to offer Geordi a bit more of an explanation.

"Everything alright? I know Tasha hasn't been feeling all that well lately and-"

"I have had much on my mind. I find that this situation has occupied a great deal of my processing capacity," Data confessed.

Geordi gave Data's arm a gentle squeeze.

"I hear you," Geordi said.

Data stepped inside Tasha's quarters. He was barely in the door when she practically tackled him.

"Oof," Data said as caught Tasha.

"Hi," she said, pressing a quick kiss against his lips.

"Hi," Data replied.

Tasha grinned as she ran her fingers back through Data's hair.

"Hi," she repeated.

"Hello again," Data said.

For a few seconds, neither of the spoke as they held each other's gaze.

"I'm so happy you're home," Tasha confessed.

Data cocked his head to the side.

"Don't give me that look. I thought you'd be in your lab all night combing over Romulan power circuits and cloak grid technology," Tasha said.

"I am afraid it will be several hours before that information is ready for analysis," Data explained.

In truth, Data could be down in the lab. But he didn't want to think about that task. He was desperate to find an answer to the mystery of the Enterprise-C.

"Why are you not at the fitness centre? I thought you were planning to lift tonight," Data inquired.

Tasha shook her head.

"Cancelled," she said.

Data's face fell as he eyed her with pity.

"Would you like me to procure a meal for you? You should eat before you go to sleep," Data said.

It was nearly 18:00 hours. As of late, Tasha was usually completely knackered and ready for bed by this time.

Tasha bit back a smirk.

"No," she said.

She was staring at Data.

"You are not tired," Data realised.

"No. I'm not," Tasha said.

In fact, there was a particularly familiar twinkle of mischief in her eyes – one that Data had seen much in the last few weeks.

"I do not understand," Data confessed.

"I'm not tired," Tasha insisted as she nuzzled against his face.

"Do you wish to share a meal? Or perhaps we could read the next-"

Data stopped as Tasha kissed him – the kind of slow, sweet kiss they often shared in the morning before getting out of bed.

Only in this instance it spoke of Tasha's intentions.

"There's only one thing I want right now," Tasha murmured.

Data's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Forgive my reaction. It is just that for the last several weeks you have been unusually fatigued. Are you sure that you do not need to rest?" Data asked.

"I only need you," Tasha growled next to his mouth.

She clutched the back of Data's uniform. Her lips travelled across the line of Data's jaw and over his cheek to nibble at the spot below his ear.

"Data," she urged.

Tasha bit down on his earlobe, earning a sharp inhale from Data.

Yes, she had been fatigued and ill for weeks. And now there was only one thing occupying her mind. Tasha couldn't recall ever feeling this aroused outside of the polywater incident. It was like every fibre of her body was screaming for Data.

It was all she'd thought about the entire afternoon.

And it was exactly the kind of distraction Data needed.

Data collapsed back onto the bed and threw his arm up onto the pillow. He stared at the ceiling as his power cell pumped in his chest cavity. It was working overtime to regulate his cooling system.

Tasha snuggled up against him. She laid her head down on his chest and closed her eyes, savouring the rise and fall of Data's torso with each artificial breath.

With his free hand, Data traced the length of Tasha's bare spine.

Then he leaned down to press a soft kiss atop her hair.

Tasha giggled.

"What the hell are we going to do on Føroyar?" Tasha asked.

"I would imagine this," Data replied.

Tasha glanced up and flashed Data a lazy smile.

"Sure you won't be completely tuckered out?" Tasha teased.

"I believe that is highly unlikely," Data replied.

Tasha nestled back down against Data. He relaxed as she traced the line of his torso with her fingers.

"Maybe you'll be sick of me by then?" Tasha said.

Data rolled them together so that she was pinned to the bed.

"That will never happen," Data declared as he stared down at her.

Tasha felt shy under his gaze.

"Not even if I-"

She fell silent as Data captured her lips.

"Never," he whispered when they broke apart.

Data pressed his lips against her forehead.

"I am going to take you to Føroyar and make love to you in the moonlight," Data promised. "I have every intention of loving you for the rest of my existence."

Tasha tried to avert her eyes – but Data caught the side of her face.

"I know when most humanoids say that they mean a timeframe that is restricted to the limitations of their natural lifespan," Data said. "But when I say that I will love you until the end of time – it is conceivable that such a statement will-"

"Don't," Tasha said, pressing her finger to his lips.

She always felt uncomfortable whenever Data mentioned the difference in their lifespans. Or rather, his lack thereof.

"I don't want to think about you being alone," Tasha shared.

It was a fact that someday she would leave Data.

"I don't want to think about-"

"You will always be with me," Data said, hoping to offer her reassurance.

Data panicked.

"Please do not cry," Data pleaded as Tasha's lip started to tremble.

But it was too late.

Tasha squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears flooded down over her face. She felt so embarrassed. They had just finished making love, spending a sweet evening together and there she was sobbing.

Emotional outbursts had always left Tasha feeling icky. She didn't like feeling not in control.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she sobbed.

"It is alright," Data assured her.

He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, then the side of her neck. His lips graced her collarbone before moving on to the swell of her chest.

"I did not mean to evoke such a strong response," Data apologised.

Data sat upright and pulled Tasha into his arms.

"Shall we discuss something that will bring you happiness?" Data suggested. "We could revisit the topic of our upcoming wedding."

"Mmm," Tasha replied as she wept against his shoulder.

Data rubbed soothing circles on Tasha's back as he whispered his plans against her ear.

"I have spent considerable time looking into some of the recreational opportunities. In particular, I believe you will enjoy the glacier lagoon," Data said.

Tasha sniffled.

"Yeah?" she asked between tears.

"There is also an excellent seafood restaurant that includes a day cruise. It goes out a way into the ocean and there are a number of wildlife spots where it stops along the coast," Data went on.

Data was keen to see the rare, speckled seals and longfin hunting whales that called the icy waters home.

"And then there is the ceremony itself," Data said with a smile. "Hmm? How lucky we are that we will have two special ceremonies. How many people can say that?"

He felt Tasha relax ever so slightly in his arms.

"I cannot begin to put words to the emotional thrill that comes in knowing you and I will make that vow," Data said.

He stroked the back of her hair as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"I love you. And I find my thoughts constantly consumed with thoughts of our wedding," Data continued. "That you will be my wife."

Tasha clutched his shoulders, wordlessly acknowledging that she was listening.

"At this rate it will be June next year before we get there," Tasha snivelled.

"Oh, that will be just fine," Data said.

Tasha sat back and scowled.

Data smiled and grabbed her hand, pulling Tasha off the bed.

"Another bride, another June. Another sunny honeymoon," he crooned.

It had the desired effect. Tasha shook her head and laughed, rolling her eyes as Data slipped her dressing gown over her shoulders.

"A lot of shoes. A mess of rice. The groom is nervous, he answers twice," Data went on.

He pulled Tasha close, one hand resting against the small of her back as he kissed her hairline.

"It is really killing that he is so willing to make whoopee," Data sang, dropping his voice in the way that made Tasha shiver.

She couldn't help but grin as Data pulled her across the carpet, spinning them as they entered the main room of her quarters.

"And that's what you're looking forward to, eh?" Tasha asked.

Data replied with a bashful smile.

"That and the second verse," Data said.

He locked eyes with Tasha and clutched the small of her back, pulling her flush against his body.

"He is washing dishes and baby clothes. He is so ambitious he even sews," Data sang. "So do not forget folks. That is what you get folks for making whoopee."

Tasha quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Not on your life," she said, patting his shoulder.

"I understand it is your desire to wait and I respect that," Data assured her.

He pulled Tasha into a tight embrace.

"I would wait a lifetime to make babies with you," Data said.

Tasha stiffened in his arms.

"Adopt. Adopt children with you," Data said, quickly correcting himself.

"Child," Tasha clarified. "A child. One child."

Data slipped two fingers under her chin. He lifted Tasha's face so they could look at one another properly.

"If that is your wish," he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

He squeezed Tasha tight.

"It is," she replied.

Her stomach rumbled.

"And pizza. We need pizza. With extra mushrooms," she said.

"You see the Enterprise-D we encountered – you were still at war with the Klingons," Castillo shared.

It was a grim thought.

"There were billions of casualties. More than half the fleet had fallen by 2366. The Federation was on the brink of collapse," Castillo said, describing that strange memory. "You were a man of war. This ship was full of troops."

Castillo sighed.

"That was how Captain Garrett died. She was killed when the Klingons in your timeline… the other timeline," Castillo said, struggling to explain it. "Well, there was a skirmish, and she was hit by a piece of debris on the Bridge of the Enterprise-C."

Captain Garrett was a force of nature. It was a testament to the slew of events that preceded and came after Garrett's death that her untimely and shocking demise would be nothing more than a footnote in the story.

"I was the last senior officer standing. Never anticipated I would take command – let alone lead the ship back through to battle," Castillo said.

Richard had sat in command before. He served two nights a week on Night Watch and had presided over the Bridge during various exercises.

But there was a world of difference between a routine shift and something so significant as a battle that had ramifications that transcended time and space.

Suddenly, the communications system chimed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Captain."

It was Commander Riker.

"But I thought you should be made aware straight away – Admiral Aaron has sent a message. The Enterprise will be subject to a formal inquiry due to our delays in reaching Pacifica," Riker explained.

There was a slight pause.

"And the Romulan in custody is demanding an audience with Lieutenant Yar. Again," Riker advised.

Proventus's demands were growing increasingly problematic for the crew down in the Brig.

"Ignore him," Picard responded.

"Which one?" Riker asked.

"For now – both of them," Picard answered.

Commander Riker was only too happy to comply with that order.

Jean-Luc turned back toward Castillo. Richard looked worried.

"You cannot allow him to speak with the crew. He cannot be permitted to speak with Lieutenant Yar," Richard insisted.

Jean-Luc snapped his fingers in triumph.

"And that's why the Romulan is so insistent on speaking with my Security Officer," Picard said, piecing it all together. "He wants to try and influence-"

"I lied to you, Captain. That man is Senator Proventus. Well, he was Senator Proventus," Castillo admitted.

Richard scratched his chin and glanced out the window while mulling over exactly what to say. He had to tread carefully.

"And you're right – he wants to influence the timeline. To change what's already happened," Castillo went on.

Suddenly, his demeanour changed.

"You can't let him," Castillo declared. "We've sacrificed too much. She sacrificed too much to see it upended now."

Richard turned back and locked eyes with Jean-Luc.

"Regardless of what Proventus tells you or promises you – you must not let him alter the timeline. He must not be permitted to speak with Tasha Yar," Castillo urged.

"I can't ignore him forever. Sooner or later, I will need to speak with him," Picard said.

Picard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You can understand my dilemma," Picard said.

Castillo nodded.

"I never intended to deceive you for some malicious purpose," Castillo confessed. "It was only my intention to prevent interference with the timeline."

Picard shook his head.

"A Romulan Senator in my Brig. So that man is Senator Proventus?" Picard remarked in amazement.

"Was," Richard said.

Jean-Luc's brow furrowed.

"Was?" he prompted.

"I don't know how much information about the Romulan Senate is known. Forgive me if I am providing information you are already aware of," Castillo said.

He had been so isolated from Federation news that there was no telling what Starfleet knew. Occasionally, snippets of information leaked out – but they were rare.

"Proventus was once Vice-Proconsul of the Senate. But there's the growing Black Eagle movement that has infiltrated the Senate, the Military, the Tal Shiar," Castillo explained.

Morak had successfully emboldened every radical Iconian-worshipping Romulan, tapping into their fear and hunger for the glory days of a Romulan Empire that had never truly existed.

And people like Senator Proventus had paid dearly for their opposition.

"Proventus wants to try and influence the past. To change things," Castillo confessed.

Picard frowned.

"All our available information would indicate Senator Proventus is in opposition to war with the Federation," Picard said.

He didn't understand why an anti-war advocate would try to change the timeline.

"He is," Castillo assured him. "And he thinks the best way to do that is by instructing Tasha Yar to-"

Richard hesitated.

"She was supposed to… is supposed to-"

Castillo paused.

"She was supposed to die on that ship." Castillo said.

Picard frowned. Jean-Luc was having a difficult time keeping up.

"You're saying she survived?" Picard realised. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around why she was on that ship in the first place."

"She beamed over with transfer orders shortly before we returned to our own time," Castillo said.

Jean-Luc's mouth went dry.

I ordered Tasha back.

"What I don't understand is why Tasha Yar was on that ship," Picard pressed.

He needed to know.

He needed there to be a damn good reason.

Because Jean-Luc Picard could fathom no acceptable reason for such an order. Timeline be damned, 'fixing' history based on a vague notion wasn't good enough.

Castillo paused as he ran his hand back through his greying curls.

"Are you sure you want to know? Are you absolutely sure?" Richard asked.

He stared hard at the Captain.

Picard wasn't sure what to say.

While Jean-Luc mulled over his options, Richard got up and made a beeline for the replicator.

"Forgive me, Captain. But this requires liquid courage," Richard said.

Jean-Luc was struck with a thought.

"I know just the place. Why don't we take a short break?" Picard suggested.

It was late – nearly 22:00 hours.

Ten Forward would be cleared out by now and they could enjoy a nightcap.

"Come," Picard said, ushering Castillo to the door.

"You do realise that late-night meals will be limited to our time in the city on Føroyar?" Data asked.

"I know that," Tasha assured him as she threw on an oversized jumper.

"We will have to carry in our provisions for the camping portion," Data went on.

Tasha shook her head as she slipped on a pair of thick, woollen socks.

"That will limit-

"I don't intend on taking a ballgown in my pack," Tasha threw back.

"Have you chosen something for the ceremony?" Data inquired.

Tasha had been tight-lipped about it.

She flashed him a smile.

Data's eyes lit up. He was quite curious.

"And?" he prompted.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Tasha said with a smug look.

She stopped and gave him a quick kiss before heading off to pick up their late-night pizza.

Tasha yelped as Data gave her a playful swat on the arse. He caught Tasha's wrist and pulled her back toward him for another kiss.

Ekloire Starbase | Romulan Space

Merul grimaced and rolled over, pulling his hand close as Azura lapped at it with her long, wet tongue.

Liran was snoozing at the foot of the bed curled up next to Portunus – both of them snoring soundly.

In the corner of the room, the ceremonial incense on Sela's altar to the divines was about to burn out. She'd lit a long stem for her nightly prayers before retiring to bed.

Sela closed her eyes and relaxed as Korenus traced his fingers over the curves and planes of her body. They ghosted over her collarbone and down her sternum, stopping just above Sela's navel before travelling back up in the same line.

"What is this?" Korenus asked as he touched her locket.

He had wanted to ask since he'd first discovered the piece. For someone like Sela, it was odd that she would wear something so old and clearly damaged.

Sela clutched the locket, hiding it from view.

"Nothing," she replied.

"It's obviously significant," Korenus pressed.

He covered Sela's hand with his own.

"That is alright. It is your secret," Korenus said as he kissed her shoulder. "It was your mother's, wasn't it?"

Sela wanted vomit.

"I apologise," Korenus whispered.

"I don't want to talk about her," Sela declared.

"Of course," Korenus agreed.

He could sense he'd waded into sensitive territory.

"You know, I saw her funeral," Korenus remarked.

Sela snorted.

"You and half of the Empire," Sela spat.

2350 | Romulus

"Please sit still, my lady," Richard Castillo said as he brushed Sela's hair.

She had fidgeted ever since he'd set her on the edge of the chair.

"Why do I have to wear this?" Sela asked.

She scowled and tugged at the heavy harness that hung around her neck. It weighed a lot and made it difficult to run.

"Because you are travelling with your father to the city today," Castillo answered.

Sela heaved a dramatic sigh. She flopped back against her chair and crossed her arms.

"Why?" Sela demanded.

"Because you are going to a parade," Castillo said.

"Why?" Sela repeated.

It was her favourite question.

Castillo knelt down next to Sela and took hold of her hands.

"Because today you are going to a ceremony to lay your mother to rest," Castillo said quietly.

Sela panicked.

"I don't want to go back there," Sela sobbed.

She threw her arms around her protector and sniffled. The woods on the estate grounds had long been a place Sela enjoyed. She could sneak away and run free out there on her walks with her protector.

But now there was a body in those woods.

"It's scary. I'll be a good girl. Please don't make me go back there," Sela pleaded.

Richard rubbed her back as she cried.

"You aren't going back there. You won't have to see her," Richard said, hoping to explain. "This is just a parade. All you have to do is walk with your family."

Sela was inconsolable.

Sela had suffered in the weeks since Tasha Yar's death. It was a traumatic memory burned into her young mind, a bitter warning about what fate could befall Sela should she fall from grace.

She awoke with night terrors more nights than not.

General Morak would hear nothing of shielding Sela from the gruesome details – going so far as to force Sela to watch her mother's grisly execution.

He'd even dragged little Sela out to Tasha's final resting place to 'look upon what happens to traitors.'

Worst of all, Sela felt responsible. Deep down Sela felt like it was her fault that her mother was dead.

She was too young to understand the entire situation and the complex, abusive situation that led to that fateful night.

"You won't have to see her. Mummy is under her tree. Under the stars. You are going to the city," Castillo said.

"I'll be good! I promise!" Sela cried.

"Oh sweetheart, I know you are," Richard assured her.

Sela sniffled as she wiped her tears with a tiny fist.

"M-mummy was bad. That's why she's gone forever," Sela wept. "But I'm not bad. I won't be bad. I don't want to go away too."

Castillo's heart broke for Sela. To be so young and completely terrorised – by her father no less – it felt criminal.

"Your mummy may have died, but she loved you very much. And that will never go away," Richard said. "She loves you, Sela. She will always love you."

He took hold of Sela's hand and directed it to the locket that hung around her neck.

"Whenever you feel afraid, you hold this. Hold this and remember that your mother loves you and that she will always be with you," Richard instructed.

And that I love you too. Richard thought.

There was music in the distance, horns of some sort blowing a song that Sela had never heard.

It was difficult to tell over the thunderous sound of marching.

So much marching – thousands of feet.

The last time Sela had been in the capital city had been an exciting affair. She'd seen the halls of the Senate Building, visited the Imperial Palace, and even taken a walk through the private gardens.

There had been a parade then too.

But today was different.

Sela felt completely alone.

Her protector was forbidden from accompanying Sela.

Tasha Yar was dead. She had died at the hands of General Morak on the floor of his office.

But publicly, the story was very different.

General Morak had always known how to squeeze the most out of a situation. Since the birth of Sela, Morak had paraded Tasha around as an example of Romulan superiority.

He had pushed a narrative that she was a defector rescued from an awful existence under a failed Federation.

It was a carefully cultivated image.

The aristocracy snubbed this. They were repulsed by the idea of a Romulan-human relationship. But to the lower classes, the very backbone of Romulan society – they saw Morak as a hero.

His relationship was proof that Romulan superiority existed, that their efforts and sacrifice were paying off. And they ate up the religious symbolism of Tasha's circumstances.

Astradis was nothing short of a folk hero, and Iconian legend. And Tasha was the very embodiment of that.

Tasha's death had sparked something inside of General Morak.

It was a strange mix of guilt and betrayal. More so, he saw an opportunity to further advance his cause.

General Morak had planned a lavish state funeral for Tasha and loudly, publicly decried that her death had come at the hands of humans hellbent on destroying their relationship.

Morak had flipped the script. He lied. He misrepresented the circumstances of her death and blamed it all on his enemies.

And he sold it to the masses as proof of why deviants, sedition, and notions of a 'Romulan Free State' could not be tolerated.

In accordance with that pageantry, Morak had a fake coffin at the ready as part of an extravagant ceremony in the Romulan capital.

Morak rode behind the empty coffin on a white steed, doing his absolute best to play the part of grieving widower.

Other members of the Imperial family – including Sela were to walk behind in the funeral procession.

Sela felt small and terrified as she walked along block after block. The streets were crowded, overflowing with people that had poured into the city.

Thousands of people wore black armbands as a symbol of Morak's Black Eagles.

Every available inch of space bore the Black Eagle banner. It hung from streetlights and signs, out of windows, and flew proudly on flagpoles throughout the city.

And everyone chanted the same thing over and over again.

"Mortem ulis an vang'radam! Mortem ulis an terranahan!"

Death to traitors.

Death to humans.

Sela wanted to hide.

She was too small to understand they were there because they were grieving for her mother. As Sela listened to the crowd, she thought they were shouting about her mother, in approval of her death.

And by extension - calling for the death of Sela too.

It was suffocating.

There was no one Sela could run to. No safe pair of arms waiting to scoop her up and tell her everything would be alright – only row upon row of people that were bigger, that looked at her differently.

And because Sela was afraid of being killed too as punishment, she walked silently as she followed her father's horse through the funeral procession.

When they reached the Imperial palace, Sela rushed off to a dark corner to cry alone.

She curled up behind a statue of her ancestor, Ruteg the Ruthless, and sobbed. Sela squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her locket, wishing against all odds that her protector would emerge and take her home.

But the only person that came looking for her was Drusilla, Morak's wife.

"You wretched little disgrace," Drusilla barked.

Sela crouched in the corner as Drusilla took hold of her arm and yanked her out into the corridor.

"Stop snivelling," Drusilla commanded.

Her cheek stung as the back of Drusilla's hand smacked Sela across the face.

"Stop crying. It's pathetic," Drusilla said.

Sela wiped her face on the back of her oversized sleeve.

"I w-w-want to go home," Sela cried.

Smack.

Sela clutched her cheek and cowered.

"How do you expect your father to present you to the Emperor like this? Well?" Drusilla demanded.

Sela dropped her gaze to the floor, unsure of what to say.

"I'll be good," Sela promised.

"You'll be good?" Drusilla scoffed.

Sela whimpered as Drusilla grabbed the back of her harness, dragging her along the corridor as she laid into Sela about misbehaviour, cowardice, and her lack of composure.

In Drusilla's eyes, Sela would never be Romulan enough.

"You are a pitiful abomination. And if you don't stop wailing I will snap your neck," Drusilla said.

"I'm s-s-sorry I'm crying," Sela apologised. "I miss my mummy."

Sela cried out as Drusilla threw her into the wall.

"Get up! Get up!" Drusilla demanded.

Sela scrambled to her feet.

In a flash, Drusilla's hand closed around Sela's throat as she shoved her against the wall.

"Your mother was a whore and a traitor. Say it," Drusilla demanded.

"My mother was.. um.. was a whore and a.. a traitor," Sela stammered.

"And if you ever talk about missing your mummy again, you'll join her," Drusilla threatened.

Sela nodded in understanding. Drusilla released her and Sela dropped to the floor with a thud.

Drusilla stared down at her, shaking her head as she clicked her tongue in disapproval. Even years on, Drusilla still felt it was horribly unfair that all of her beautiful, pure-blooded Romulan boys would die as sickly young things while Tasha Yar's half-human, weak bastard daughter survived.

"The divines can be so cruel," Drusilla remarked.

2349 | Romulus

Sela finished her prayers to the divines. She opened her eyes and sat back on her knees. Then she looked up at Drusilla for approval.

Drusilla simply pursed her lips.

Ever since Sela's installation as heir, Drusilla had taken over her education. Tasha Yar may have given birth to the girl – but Drusilla would be the one to shape her.

Their lesson for the day was on the divine known as the Imperial mother.

"When do I get see my mother again?" Sela asked.

It had been several weeks since wee Sela had said goodbye to her mother in the grand hall. She was still too young to understand it was supposed to be a permanent farewell.

Drusilla slapped her across the face.

"You have one mother," Drusilla said.

"But my mummy-"

Smack.

"You have one mother," Drusilla repeated as she pointed at the Imperial Mother statue on the altar.

Sela didn't understand.

"This is your only mother," Drusilla went on.

"Why?" Sela asked.

Drusilla whacked Sela across the face again.

"Your mother is a slave. Your mummy doesn't want you because you're a no good, ugly, horrible little brat. Do you understand?" Drusilla snapped. "Your mummy doesn't love you. She doesn't want you. And she's never coming back!"

Sela's face grew hot. Her eyes started to pool.

"And no one will ever want you unless you prove yourself. Stop crying," Drusilla ordered. "You have to work twice as hard because you will never be as smart nor as capable as real Romulans."

Sela knew she wasn't supposed to cry. But it hurt.

"Do you understand?" Drusilla asked.

Sela nodded.

"I asked you a question, you stupid little girl," Drusilla said.

"Yes, my lady," Sela answered.

"Clean yourself up," Drusilla spat.

2350 | Romulus | The Imperial Palace

Sela sat on the floor and took several shaky breaths as she tried to calm down. Further tears would only result in another beating.

She had to pull herself together to be presented to the Emperor.

Suddenly, there was a shadow on the floor.

Sela was afraid to look up.

"Come, child," said a smooth voice.

Sela glanced up to see the tall, familiar figure of her aunt.

Ramdha.

Ramdha was General Morak's sister and a powerful woman in her own right. The foremost authority on Romulan philosophy, religion, and Iconian mythology, Ramdha was considered both an archaeological and spiritual expert.

And unlike most Romulans, Ramdha had big red curly hair that Sela found fascinating. It wasn't the dark, sleek hair that most Romulans were born with.

Like Sela, Ramdha was different.

Ramdha set Sela down on a nearby bench and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"There," Ramdha said, satisfied with her work.

She paused to tuck Sela's bangs back behind her ear.

"It is not your fault the divines have punished Drusilla," Ramdha assured her as she gripped Sela's chin. "She is jealous."

Like her brother Morak, Ramdha shared a fanatical religious obsession with the Iconian legend.

"You are of the Imperial bloodline. A daughter of Iconia," Ramdha said, thumbing away her tears.

Sela listened with rapt attention.

"You are the child that was promised. And you will lead our people into a great, new era," Ramdha went on. "You are our golden eagle."

Sela blushed. She wasn't accustomed to adults speaking to her with such kindness.

"Yes. You've been touched by the divines," Ramdha said as she studied Sela, turning her head side to side.

Ramdha had done the same thing shortly after Sela's birth. She'd been summoned to examine this strange child and her unusual appearance.

Ramdha scooped up Sela and carried her down the corridor toward a wing that housed ancient tapestries and relics recovered from Iconian sites.

They stopped in front of one of the oldest and largest tapestries.

"Do you know who that is?" Ramdha questioned.

Sela froze as she stared at the image of a woman with golden hair.

Just like me. Sela thought.

"Hmm?" Ramdha prompted.

"I'm not a-pposed to say," Sela answered in a hushed voice.

She frantically glanced around to ensure they were alone.

"Go on," Ramdha encouraged.

"Mummy," Sela whispered.

Ramdha chuckled.

"She is Astradis. Iconian legend says that she was a great warrior that came from another time, another place," Ramdha explained. "She fell from the stars and gave birth to a nation of warriors that would conquer the galaxy."

It was one of the original Iconian founding myths.

Sela's eyes were wide as she studied the image. It looked so much like the mural of her mother painted in her father's office – a place Sela was typically forbidden to enter.

"We do not always understand how or why the divines choose a certain path – only that we must embrace it," Ramdha said.

Sela was starting to feel better.

Ramdha was very busy and rarely visited. But Sela adored her aunt. She was strict, but far kinder to Sela than Drusilla or her Romulan tutors.

"Have faith, child. You will be an Empress someday. All our lives, our destiny, rests in you," Ramdha said.

A noise caught their attention. Footfalls echoed in the distance as Drusilla walked past at the far end of the corridor. She scowled at Sela before turning up her nose.

"And she will not live forever," Ramdha whispered.

Present

Sela let go of her locket and took a slow, shaky breath.

"A talon for your thoughts," Korenus said.

He could sense her mind was someplace dark.

"I'm just thinking about someone that I haven't thought about in a while," Sela said.

"Fond memories?" Korenus asked.

Sela grinned.

"Some of them," Sela replied.

Korenus pulled Sela close and buried his head against her neck.

"Go to sleep, Sela," he whispered. "I'll watch over you."

"Mmm," she replied with a hazy voice.

Korenus nuzzled against her neck.

"What do you desire, my lady?" Korenus asked.

Sela kept her eyes closed and grinned.

"I want eagles in my daydreams, diamonds in my eyes," she replied.

2362 | Romulus

Drusilla wanted to rest but sleep remained elusive. The pain was far too great. There was physical pain. But there was also an incredible weight that burdened her.

At ninety-three, Drusilla was hardly considered old for a Romulan.

Her own mother had lived to two hundred and four.

There were many things Drusilla had planned to do with her life. Now that it was coming to a close, she felt a bitter pang of envy that the divines saw fit to rob of her old age as well.

Though she shared a marriage and compound with her husband, General Morak, their relationship was neither close nor loving.

Drusilla had failed to give him an heir. For years, Morak's long-suffering consort had been used as a political game between them.

Following her death, Morak's daughter had become the new pawn in that game.

How strange and fitting it was that Sela would be the one present in Drusilla's final hours. The physicians had come and gone, advising there was nothing they could do other than try and mitigate the pain.

General Morak had better things to do than watch his wife die.

He'd never cared for Drusilla and lamented that she was clinging to life.

Have I not been a dutiful wife? Standing with you. Raising your bastard? Drusilla had asked.

A good wife would have died sooner. Morak had replied.

Now in her final hours, that neglected bastard was the only one present.

"Why are you here? To strangle me in my sleep?" Drusilla asked.

She coughed and wheezed, sounding nothing like the once-intimidating woman she'd been before her body had succumbed to disease.

Sela chuckled.

"No, no. I would never do that," Sela said.

She was sitting in a chair in the corner, watching Drusilla carefully. Sela was fascinated.

"Is this some sick human compulsion? Do you feel obligated to sit there and keep vigil at my bedside?" Drusilla asked, mocking her.

Sela didn't react.

"You have no children to watch over you, to sit with you in your final hours. My father certainly doesn't want to be here," Sela said, twisting the knife.

Drusilla scoffed.

"And I'm supposed to be grateful?" she asked.

"I didn't think you were capable of that," Sela remarked.

Drusilla tried to laugh, but she choked. Struggling to breathe, she eventually managed to cough it out.

"Water, water-" she rasped, pointing to a glass on a nearby table.

Sela took hold of the glass and stepped over to her bed.

"This?" she asked.

Drusilla nodded frantically.

To her horror, Sela dumped the glass out on the rug.

"Oops. But what did you expect? After all, I am just a stupid little girl," Sela said in a cold tone, calling back to Drusilla's favourite phrase.

Drusilla wasn't shocked.

She beat her chest, coughing as she tried to regain her voice.

"Is this… my…" she choked out.

"Punishment?" Sela finished for her.

Sela sat down at the edge of the bed.

"Oh no, no. I could never do that. I'm too weak. Must be the human part of me," Sela said, taunting her.

Drusilla looked as if she had something sour on her tongue.

Then she rested back against her pillow. Drusilla closed her eyes as a smile crept across her face.

"At least I will die a true Romulan. Something you will never know," Drusilla said.

"A real Romulan would have done the honourable thing and died by their own hand long before they were alone, lying in their own filth," Sela said with a dramatic feigned sigh.

Drusilla shivered.

She tried to reach for a pain relieving inhalant on the nightstand. Sela was too quick and snatched it away before Drusilla could grab it in her weakened state.

"Did you want this?" Sela asked.

She turned the device over in her hand, taunting Drusilla with how close it was out and yet just out of reach.

Drusilla grimaced.

"I suppose I shall learn soon enough why the divines have always seen fit to punish me," Drusilla surmised aloud. "First they took my boys. Then they sent your mother."

Her breath grew ragged.

"Then you," Drusilla spat.

She gasped with surprise as Sela helped her use the inhalant to ease her pain, supporting Drusilla's head as she breathed the analgesic.

Drusilla laid back against the bed as the relief flooded her body.

"You are weak," Drusilla managed to say.

"No," Sela said. "My mother, for all her faults, taught me that there is no benefit to be gained from cruelty to those that have nothing. That are nothing."

Sela reached for a cold flannel as she dabbed the sweat away from Drusilla's brow.

"And you are nothing. You have always been nothing. And you will die nothing," Sela said as she tended to her. "No one will mourn for you. My father is relieved to finally be free of the burden of your presence."

Drusilla felt sick as the weight of her final moments sunk in.

"And no one here to tend to you save for the bastard child you chose to be cruel to," Sela went on. "How funny it must be to find yourself at my mercy."

Drusilla's throat felt tight.

"But I don't blame you. It couldn't have been easy watching all your beautiful children die, knowing my father loved a traitor and whore deeper than he ever felt for you," Sela continued. "Do you remember her big, lovely state funeral? Fenthair will probably just drop you in the sea."

Drusilla flinched as Sela stroked her hair.

"And all that effort to try and kill me only to fail," Sela said. "You know better men than you have tried to kill me. Where are they now?"

Sela paused and laughed.

"And here you are wondering why the divines would treat you so. Having to watch them shine favour on me," Sela said. "Hmm. Does make one wonder."

She sat back and took hold of Drusilla's hand. Using the last of her strength, Drusilla gripped Sela's hand.

"You ungrateful, wretched little cunt. You never would have survived without me. I taught you everything. I made you who you are," Drusilla roared.

Sela knocked Drusilla's inhaler off the nightstand and then crushed it under her boot. She leaned in close next to Drusilla's ear.

"I know exactly what I am thanks to you – a stupid little girl," Sela whispered.

She sat back and smiled.

"Say hello to my mother when you get to hell," Sela said, patting her hand. "I'm sure you'll have a lot to catch up on."

Present

It was strange to step back into Ten Forward.

Fortunately, it was a quiet night. There was a couple in the far, dark corner enjoying the company of one another over a pint.

Toward the centre of the room a family was sharing a late dinner with their children.

Castillo was struck.

He paused to observe them.

Another difference.

"Lieutenant?" Picard prompted, following Castillo's line of sight.

"Forgive me," Richard said. "I am not accustomed to seeing families on a starship. Especially this one."

Changes to the family policy had largely come about in the last twenty years. The Enterprise-C was not a home for children.

And the last time Castillo had been on the Enterprise-D, she had been a warship.

"I suppose it is quite a change," Picard acknowledged. "I know it was quite an adjustment for me to get used to. Though I will admit – it has grown on me."

He offered Richard a sympathetic smile.

They selected a table in the far corner where they could sit undisturbed. It had the added benefit of being at angle behind one of the wide support pillars – further shielding it from view.

It was Jean-Luc's favourite table in the entire establishment because it offered both privacy and a spot along the windows.

They sat in silence for a time, simply enjoying a quiet moment with a glass of whisky courtesy of Guinan's private reserve.

But the clock on the wall was a reminder that Jean-Luc was on a deadline.

He was about to open his mouth and speak when the doors to Ten Forward slid open. Tasha Yar strolled in sporting her casual leggings and oversized jumper.

And an ethereal glow.

Richard made himself small. He pressed his body back against the pillar to hide from view.

He recognised that shine – the casual way her hair was tousled, the colour in her cheeks, even the bounce in her step.

He'd seen that lazy smile before, the way she seemed to exude warmth and joy in the afterglow of sex.

Richard had memorised that look. He'd clung to it on the darkest, coldest nights on Romulus.

He dreamed about it.

She is happy here. He thought.

Guinan handed over a box of pizza and Tasha flashed her a brilliant smile.

2366 | Enterprise-D

"Oi. Angel face, wait up!" Richard called out.

Tasha whipped around.

"Excuse me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Richard froze.

"I don't know how you do things back in 2344, but on this ship we treat one another with respect. You may call me Lieutenant. Is that clear?" Tasha instructed.

"I'm sorry," Richard apologised.

His face flushed as he scratched the back of his neck.

"I uh, I didn't catch your name," Richard said.

She was the same officer that had saved him on the Bridge of the Enterprise-C. When all hope seemed lost, she had emerged from nowhere to rescue them.

"It's Lieutenant," Tasha said.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched off down the corridor. Castillo rushed after her.

"Wait! Wait! I'm truly sorry," he said as he chased her down.

Tasha stopped. She turned back and crossed her arms.

"I wanted to say thank you for saving me back there," Richard explained. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just uh-"

He trailed off, fidgeting as a nervous laugh escaped his throat.

Get it together. He chastised himself.

"I said it because you kind of seemed like an angel, you know? Saving me right before I, well, my mum's always saying there's angels out there and I've never met one but-"

Tasha looked horrified.

"Right. I uh… I sound like a babbling idiot," Richard acknowledged. "I really did want to thank you, Lieutenant."

He'd bungled his only chance and Richard knew it. He put his hands on his hips and took a slow breath.

"Ok. Well, I'm going to go now," Tasha said as she pointed to the corridor.

"Wait," Richard pleaded.

Tasha crossed her arms.

"Do you like tacos?" Richard asked.

Tasha blinked. She was utterly confused.

"I'm partial to birria but I don't mind a good tacos de nopal," Richard said. "Cheeseburgers too. Erm.. pizza?"

"Were you hit on the head?" Tasha asked, concerned.

She gripped his face, turning it side to side as she looked for damage. Tasha ran her fingers back through his curly hair and over his scalp while trying to locate head wound.

"I was kind of hoping to take you to dinner first but if you'd rather skip and-"

Tasha released him.

"This is… are you trying it on?" Tasha asked, repulsed.

Richard's face burned with embarrassment.

"Not a very good one, eh?" he asked.

"No. No it's not," Tasha admitted. "Though being asked to dinner is hardly the worst way someone's tried."

Now that it was all out in the open, Tasha relaxed a little.

At least he didn't bump his head. She thought.

"I am sorry about calling you angel face. I didn't know your name and I thought you might throw me out an airlock if I called you something like sweet cheeks or babygirl," Richard said, rambling.

Tasha bristled.

"I-I wasn't. I mean I was just saying as example of what-"

Tasha put her hand up to stop him.

"Hardly my first catcall," Tasha assured him.

With a small nod, she turned and walked away.

"I was serious about dinner," Castillo called after her.

"Yeah, uh huh. That's what you wanted," Tasha said as she waited for the lift.

Richard realised he'd been caught. He was ashamed to admit it – but he had just survived four Romulan battle cruisers and travelled twenty-two years into the future.

In for a penny. He thought.

Straightening his shoulders, he marched over the lift.

"I will confess that in the short time we have been together I have been staring at other things and I have-"

Richard kept his eyes low as he paused and took a breath to steady his nerves.

"I have let my mind wander," he admitted.

He'd been thinking about just what she would look like first thing in the morning with her hair a mess wearing one of his old t-shirts.

Tasha just laughed and shook her head.

"Really, I get it. Men are leches. I've heard every line so save yourself the embarrassment before you decide to tell me eyes are full of starlight or wax poetic about my arse-"

"Your smile," Richard interjected.

Tasha burst out laughing. She clutched the side of the lift to steady herself.

"Your smile," he repeated. "When I said I let my mind wander, I was thinking about your smile. I was staring at your smile."

"Look, I think it's sweet you want to apologise. But you don't have to pretend. We can just forget this ever happened, okay?" Tasha suggested.

"I'm not pretending," Richard said in earnest.

He truly wasn't. He'd been thinking about all the ways he wanted to see that smile.

"And it wasn't innocent," he added. "I was uh, thinking about what that smile might look like in the moonlight. Or hot and sweaty after a game of Parrises Squares."

He paused.

"Or other things," Richard added with a casual shrug.

To his delight, Tasha cackled with laughter.

"You're really quite lousy at this," Tasha said.

"But I did make you smile," Richard pointed out.

Present

Jean-Luc observed carefully as Castillo watched Tasha. He could see the mix of emotions play out in Richard's expression.

There was a pang of sorrow for a life he would never know along with relief to see her alive and well.

And happy.

But there was also a sense of anger – because Richard knew this happiness couldn't last.

"You are afraid," Picard observed.

"I hope and pray that things will be different this time," Richard shared.

He picked up his drink and sat back in his seat, turning his attention out the window.

"And who knows? There are already differences. This ship. The war with the Klingons. She's different too," Richard acknowledged.

"I need to know what happened," Picard said.

Castillo's face fell.

"You must be certain. Because the fate of all of us, the safety of billions, this very timeline – it all depends on the greatest story that can never be told," Richard said.

He glanced around the pillar to be sure Tasha was gone.

"She can never know," Richard added. "Because if it never comes to pass, she doesn't need to know."

He paused.

"And if it does?" Picard asked.

"Then she deserves to live every moment until then free of the burden of what is to come," Richard said.

Picard sat back in his seat and took a slow breath.

"There's no going back to before," Richard explained. "And if through some miracle, this Tasha Yar in this timeline never goes back on the Enterprise-C, you will have to carry the weight of this knowledge alone."

Richard leaned forward and locked eyes with Picard.

"You must give me your word that you will never tell her," Richard insisted.

Picard hesitated.

The ensigns of command. He mused.

"I'm going to share some information with you that I must ask you to hold onto with equal regard for privacy," Picard said.

Castillo chuckled and held out his arms.

"I've been carrying secrets that threaten to unravel the fabric of time itself for two decades. Where do you think all this grey comes from?" Castillo teased.

Picard had to admit he had a point.

"She's getting married. She wants to get married," Picard explained. "Our travel restrictions prevent her from leaving the ship. And I have enforced those restrictions with the utmost scrutiny."

Jean-Luc loathed it. He felt awful. And he thought about it more than he cared to admit.

"I hate that I have to deny her that. I would give her a shuttle this minute and tell her to go, to run from all of this," Jean-Luc confessed.

If there were any two people that deserved a chance at happiness – it was Data and Tasha.

"I want to know what happens. Because it will influence my decision to violate that travel restriction," Picard declared.

Tasha watched expectantly as Data bit into a piece of pizza. The gooey cheese strung out as he pulled the piece back from his mouth and Data seemed utterly confused about what to do.

Tasha had insisted it was a food that did not require utensils.

"It does not seem conducive to eat this food in such a manner," Data remarked.

Tasha threw back her head and giggled.

"Here. Like this," she said, showing him how.

Data tried again with the same disastrous results. This time, the cheese came off with the toppings.

He dipped his head, offering a bashful smile.

"It would seem I have yet to master this skill," Data said.

"Don't worry, you'll have plenty of practice," Tasha replied.

Data smirked.

"What?" Tasha asked.

"Well, you speak of this as if it were an artform," Data commented.

Tasha was aghast.

"This is an artform," Tasha insisted. "Beer and pizza may not be on par with proto-Vulcanoid Neoclassic Cubism or Betazoid Expressionist Surrealism or-"

Tasha trailed off and waved her hand.

"You just said six things that do not equate," Data said.

For a moment, his comment hung in the air.

Then they both burst out laughing.

Data glanced down at his pizza and frowned.

"What?" Tasha asked. "If you don't like it then we can get something different."

"I suspect your desire to mix extra mushrooms with pineapple and chilis is much in line with your knowledge of painting – a haphazard melange," Data teased.

Tasha responded with a playful kick.

"Pineapple belongs on everything," Tasha replied.

"You know, they do not grow on Føroyar? The climate is too cold," Data warned. "Whatever shall you do?"

"I suspect I'll be rather occupied with other activities," Tasha replied with a coy smile.

She poked him with her foot again.

"We better pack extra snacks," Tasha said.

Back in Ten Forward, Castillo waited patiently as Picard mulled over his choice.

"Knowing will not bring you peace of mind. And if these events do come to pass, you understand that you must let them? The timeline must proceed in the way it has already occurred," Castillo cautioned.

Picard's chest felt tight.

"You cannot stop it. And you must not try to stop her," Castillo urged.

The timeline depended on their sacrifice.

"I fear not knowing is worse," Picard confessed.

There were too many questions, too much riding on Jean-Luc's shoulders – the Romulan threat, the infiltration of Starfleet.

The Tasha Yar imposter on Romulus.

"I need to know," Picard said. "I wish I didn't. I don't want it. But I need to know."

He looked up to meet Castillo's tired blue eyes.

"And the woman on Romulus, the one you say is not Tasha Yar. You said she was a product of what happened," Picard said.

Castillo nodded.

"I need answers," Picard demanded.

Richard pulled a faded blue ribbon out of his pocket. He stared down at his drink as he ran it through his fingers.

"You said she isn't Tasha Yar, but you've given me no information to think she's not an imposter or-"

"She's a part of this story," Richard said cryptically.

Jean-Luc growled in frustration. He didn't mean to seem short, but he was exhausted.

And if Picard was honest with himself, he was a little bit frightened as well. It felt like pulling back a rock to reveal what might be hiding underneath.

"Dammit, just tell me who this-"

"She's dead, Captain. Killed shortly before we sent that signal," Richard said.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember Sela in happier times.

"But why is-"

"She was just a little girl. A little girl that will never grow up. As much a victim of this story as her mother was. As all of us. Perhaps even more," Richard said as he thumbed away tears.

He squeezed his hand around the ribbon.

"Her mother," Picard breathed in astonishment. "Are you saying-"

Jean-Luc trailed off.

His mind reeled as he tried to piece it all together. Tasha Yar didn't just travel through time and survive the destruction of the Enterprise-C. She had survived long enough to give birth to a child.

"She was your daughter," Picard realised.

Richard shook his head in the negative.

"No. I loved her as my own. But no, she wasn't mine," Richard sniffled. "We didn't… we didn't get that chance."

Fourteen years on it was a wound that still ached.

Picard frowned.

"I don't understand," Picard said.

"Like I said before – it's a long story fraught with pain," Richard said.

He took a quick sip of his drink before slamming it back down harder than intended. Richard ran a shaking hand back though his grey curls.

"But you loved her," Picard pressed.

"Do you remember what I said – that I loved her from afar?" Richard asked.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"It wasn't always that way," Richard began.