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"Good morning," Data said as Keiko emerged from the bedroom.
Data had spent the evening at his workstation.
While he suspected he had a sleep programme, there had been some trepidation between Data and Keiko had discussed their sleeping arrangements the night before.
Both felt that despite the overwhelming evidence of their marital union, it would be best to hold off on sleeping next to one another until they were more comfortable together.
There was certainly a sense of familiarity that they shared.
However, it was like getting to know each other all over again.
And they just weren't quite ready to get that close.
"I have prepared a nutritional breakfast for you," Data informed her.
Keiko glanced over to the table to find that Data had not only laid out breakfast for her—he'd taken the time to clip one of his carnations and place it in a small vase on the table.
It was a sweet gesture, and Keiko was taken aback by Data's thoughtfulness.
And it didn't stop there. To Keiko's delight, Data had served up kelp buds, plankton loaf, and seaberries.
"How did you know this was my favourite?" Keiko asked in astonishment.
Data shrugged.
"I just did," he replied simply.
"This is lovely, Data. Thank you."
"You are most welcome," Data replied. "I wanted to ensure that you are properly prepared for your day as I theorise the Security office will be quite busy."
Keiko's heart sank.
She was dreading her role as Chief of Security. Keiko didn't even know where to begin. Keiko had initially pushed back on Data's insistence that she was the Security Chief.
But he had overwhelming evidence. It left only one conclusion.
Keiko had to report to the Observation Lounge at 09:00 hours for a morning briefing with acting Captain Riker and the other senior officers.
Keiko hoped that when she got to the briefing, things would start to come back to her.
Several decks down, Beverly knelt down next to the blonde on the floor.
She gently shook Tasha's shoulder. She awoke with a start—surprisingly alert and instantly ready for action.
"Whoa," Beverly said as she ducked the woman's defensive stance. "It's just me."
"You're the doctor, right?"
"I'm a doctor," Beverly replied.
Tasha had barely slept.
There was only a single cot in the cell, and she wasn't about to suggest Captain Picard take the floor.
He'd been seriously injured the day before. Tasha had done her best to watch over him during the night, but it seemed she must have dozed off at some point.
Beverly scanned over the Captain with one of her portable tricorders.
Unfortunately, the Captain's condition was far too serious to enact Tasha's plan. Worse than that, because she had dozed off, she wasn't in a position to reach the Doctor's medical kit.
For the time being, their plan would have to wait.
Sickbay's diagnostic machines and medical equipment chargers were still down. It meant that Beverly had been forced to do some rudimentary medicine on the Captain the day before.
While his injuries would normally have required time under a surgical regenerator, Beverly had been forced to use a hand dermal regenerator instead.
It wasn't enough to fully treat the wound in one go and would require numerous treatments. She had been able to stop some of the bleeding, but the wound was still vulnerable and liable to reopen if he jostled around much.
Beverly applied another quick treatment with her hand regenerator, but it was nearing the end of its charge.
"Look, I know we're prisoners here. But last I checked, we still fed prisoners," Tasha said.
Beverly looked up at Tasha in confusion.
"Prisoners are supposed to be provided with a blanket, a pillow, a change of clothing, toothbrush—"
"What are you saying?" Beverly interjected.
Tasha closed her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
"Whenever someone is placed in the Brig, they receive a package of essential supplies for their time here."
The crew jokingly referred to this as the 'welcome basket.'
"And we feed prisoners. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner last night would have been nice," Tasha grumbled.
They had been in the brig for nearly twenty hours without receiving so much as a peanut.
"You mean you were here all day and night, and no one came to feed you?" Beverly questioned in disbelief.
Tasha nodded with a bitter grin.
"I'd wager the situation has caused a lot of problems. But normally this kind of thing would fall under the Security Chief or Chief of Operations to see to," Tasha said. "I know things are busy. But our check-in should have been recorded on the daily report to the First Officer. Even in an emergency, prisoner logs are required."
Beverly felt awful.
"I… I am so sorry," she stammered.
The Doctor shook her head in disgust.
"I will speak to Captain Riker immediately and I promise that someone will be right down to see to this," Beverly assured her.
She would make sure they received basic supplies and food—even if she had to deliver them herself.
"Thank you, Doctor," Tasha replied in earnest.
Something inside of Tasha screamed that she needed to assert her rights. She sensed this wasn't the first time she'd been imprisoned and knew survival was key.
Tasha also knew that their survival would depend on keeping up their energy and staying healthy.
And they would need food supplies if they were going to escape.
Fortunately, the team that had thrown them in the Brig had failed to conduct the proper check-in procedure.
It meant that Tasha still had a few tricks up her sleeves.
Well, more like a handful of tools and weapons concealed on her person.
It wouldn't be enough to override the forcefield blocking the door—but it would be enough to get the Captain out through the walls undetected.
They would need to secure food and water before their escape.
Commander Riker was on the Observation Lounge in a meeting with the senior officers.
"Lieutenant Barclay, have we made any progress on getting the internal sensors working?" Riker questioned. "What's our ETA to return to normal power levels?"
"N-n-not yet, sir," Barclay stammered. "Most of the decks are still down."
Teams had worked through the night to try and get the internal computer sensors back up and running. They managed to restore life support to nearly the entire ship. Several of the unoccupied decks and sections were rated low priority and had yet to be restored.
Barclay's team also managed to restore internal power system controls to the Bridge.
"Deanna, I want you to double the teams working on the repairs," Riker ordered.
Deanna nodded, feigning confidence.
With each passing hour she seemed to be more and more out of her element in running Operations. She missed key reports, failed to check the daily logs, and had come to rely on Data's advice when making important operational procedure calls.
"Doctor, what's the situation in Sickbay?" Riker asked, turning to Doctor Pulaski.
"Not good, sir," Pulaski replied with her signature blunt attitude. "Whatever incident occurred yesterday left us with a fair number of wounded. Supplies are short and our stockpile of charged and working dermal regenerators, tricorders, and hyposprays is rapidly shrinking."
Pulaski explained that they were rationing their supplies in hopes of stretching them another few days.
"But unless we get power restored to our main systems, I don't see that lasting beyond two, maybe three more days," Pulaski said.
It was a grim outlook for the medical team and those awaiting treatment.
There were far too many people with broken bones and fractures that required more advanced treatment. At this point, they were left using rudimentary treatment options like splints, braces, and ice to try and manage the pain.
"Lieutenant? Has the security sweep found any additional clues as to what happened?" Riker inquired as he turned to Keiko.
"Um, not yet, sir," Keiko replied.
Like Deanna, she was feeling more than a little of her element in the briefing.
"Keiko's memories have been significantly impacted," Data stated.
He took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"In time, they will return," Data said with a small nod.
The door to the Observation Lounge chimed and everyone froze. It was completely unexpected for someone to interrupt the briefing.
"Come," Riker ordered.
Doctor Crusher stepped into the room and locked eyes with Doctor Pulaski.
In their short time together, Katherine Pulaski had come to trust Doctor Crusher implicitly. She was a good medical officer and knew how to take charge.
"You better have a good reason for crashing this meeting, Doctor," Riker warned.
Beverly was taken aback by Captain Riker's harsh tone.
"What the Captain means to say is that we do not typically permit other officers to attend the senior bridge staff meetings," Deanna said in hopes of diffusing the tension.
She could sense Beverly was uncomfortable. Deanna also knew the Doctor had come on an urgent mission.
"I… um—"
Beverly squared her shoulders. She wasn't about to be intimidated by the Captain. People needed help. Beverly had a duty to ensure they received it.
"As part of my assignment, I did a medical follow-up with the prisoners," Beverly explained. "They've been held in the Brig for nearly twenty hours. No one has come to provide them with meals or supplies."
She looked around for a sympathetic eye.
"The First Officer said that this is supposed to be in a report to the Captain," Beverly went on. "She said there's a check-in process that never occurred."
Riker cringed. Deanna felt equally as guilty.
"Sir, I accept complete responsibility for this," Deanna said. "But I… I'm not exactly sure what this check-in procedure requires."
Deanna glanced at Keiko for an explanation. Keiko shrugged. She had no idea.
"I'm sorry," Keiko apologised. "We'll be sure they get fed, but I'm not quite sure how that works in the brig."
"Prisoners are supposed to be checked-in by a Security team upon admittance to the Brig," Worf grumbled. "I guess that as procedure was not followed, it is likely they were also not searched."
It was a terrifying prospect. The prisoners could be concealing weapons to harm the guards. Another mutiny might be just around the corner.
"I would be happy to oversee the check-in procedure and ensure that these prisoners are taken care of," Data offered.
He felt it was his responsibility as First Officer to make certain the situation was seen to.
Furthermore, as Keiko's spouse, Data felt he had an obligation to render assistance. It was clear some of the crew had been more heavily impacted by the memory loss. Data surmised as an artificial lifeform, his memory had managed to retain most of the ship's standard operating procedures.
"That is, with Lieutenant Worf's assistance and your permission, sir?" Data added.
"Make it so." Riker nodded.
On her way out of the briefing room, Doctor Pulaski caught Beverly's eye and gave her an appreciative nod.
"Well done, Crusher," Pulaski commented.
"Thank you," Keiko said to Data.
They were on the lift on their way down to the supply room near the Brig to fetch the supply packs for the prisoners.
A toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, and a change of clothes would be issued to each prisoner.
"You are most welcome," Data replied.
"I mean it," Keiko said before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "It was very kind of you to offer to help. I just feel so out of my element right now."
"Computer, halt," Data ordered.
He could tell that Keiko was struggling with the memory loss and sudden responsibility. Data could only imagine how frightening it must have been to be in such a role with no memory of how to perform the job. However, he was confident that she had the skills within her.
Data had witnessed Keiko demonstrate those skills yesterday at one of the check-in points for families.
In addition, Data had found ample other evidence that she must be a formidable Security Chief. During a search of their quarters, Data had discovered a series of medals. Some were in a shadowbox with Data's name at the top. There had also been a second box of medals.
Although they did not display her name, Data surmised these could only belong to a second person as there were a number of duplicate medals and awards.
There were various honours for gallantry, tactical acumen, and ribbons for service. While some were individually specific, others were commemorations for service in specific missions—including the Border Wars campaign.
Data watched Keiko relax as he reminded her of these awards.
"You would not have won such a prestigious array of medals were it not for your skills," Data said to refresh her memory. "And those skills are still within you, Keiko."
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" Keiko asked warmly.
On the opposite side of the corridor, Worf and Deanna were heading to the ship's stores to access ration packs for the prisoners.
"I feel awful, Worf," Deanna confessed. "This was my responsibility. I failed."
Worf punched in his access code and opened the door to the ration stores.
"What if my memory doesn't come back?" Deanna asked, worried. "How can I possibly do this job if I don't even remember to feed people in my care?"
"It is an officer's duty to adapt," Worf replied.
Just as the night before, Deanna once more felt at ease around Worf.
He was straightforward. Unlike most of the humans on the ship, there was no discrepancy between Worf's thoughts and what he spoke.
And for someone struggling with an empathic ability she did not understand, that was a great comfort.
"What?" Worf inquired.
He caught Deanna grinning at him. Her face flushed at being found out.
"I get this strange sense of familiarity when I'm around you," Deanna admitted. "Something tells me we spent a lot of time together before the incident."
Worf's dark brow furrowed in confusion.
"As you are Chief of Operations and I am Chief Tactical Officer, it would be logical that we spent considerable time working in close proximity," Worf said.
Deanna cleared her throat.
"That's not quite what I meant," Deanna replied.
"Oh?" Worf answered as he cocked his eyebrow at her.
"Well, I have never!" Lwaxana Troi huffed.
She was standing in her cell as Worf conducted a scan of her body.
Security check-ins were typically conducted via tricorder scan so as to avoid physically touching the prisoner.
Their scan of the mysterious bartender had gone off without a hitch.
However, the sheer number of metallic adornments sewn into Lwaxana's gown caused considerable interference with the traditional tricorder scan.
Much to Worf's chagrin, he'd been forced to conduct a rudimentary pat-down of the elder Betazoid.
"I apologise, madam," Worf said. "But this is necessary."
Not one to let anyone get the one-up on her, Lwaxana was more than eager to flip the tables.
"Oh, don't apologise, I know you're enjoying this I can read your thoughts, muscles," Lwaxana shot back.
Worf growled in disapproval. Deanna chuckled. She big back a smirk. She could sense Worf was not pleased.
"She is not carrying any weapons," Worf announced as he stood up and backed away.
"Next time you want to run your big, beefy hands all over my body all you have to do is ask," Lwaxana teased.
Worf took a deep breath to calm himself as he refused to respond to Lwaxana's taunt.
They moved on to Geordi and Chief O'Brien's cell next.
"Don't you think if we had a weapon, we would have tried to use it by now?" Miles growled as they scanned them.
"I'm telling you, this is wrong!" Geordi insisted. "We're not supposed to be in here!"
"What is this device?" Worf inquired as he scanned over Geordi's VISOR.
It was giving off some strange readings. It appeared to be capable of scanning most of the EM spectrum, infrared, heat, neutrinos, and more.
Worf was concerned it could be a weapon.
"Doctor Pulaski has confirmed it is a medical device," Data advised. "Bioengineering used for visual sensory input as a sensory organ replacement."
Worf gave his blessing that these two checked out as clean.
The team moved over to the cell where the Captain and Lieutenant Yar had been held.
Tasha had cursed Worf's keen senses—when he began the search, he ordered a security guard to watch each cell. Under a guard's watchful eye, Tasha had no opportunity to stow away any of her weapons or tools.
She needed a plan.
Captain Picard was still recovering from his injuries. Earlier, Doctor Crusher had provided him with a heavy dose of sedatives to help ease the pain.
Worf conducted his scan of the Captain without rousing him.
"He's clean," Worf said.
They turned to Tasha.
Data could see there was a marked increase in her heart rate and breathing.
As he ran the tricorder over her, Worf frowned.
"I'm picking up several concealed weapons," Worf advised.
Two of the security guards trained their phasers on Tasha. Tasha threw her hands up in the air.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm carrying a number of personal items. Don't you think I would have tried something by now if it were my intention to hurt you?"
Tasha was hoping to appeal to their logic.
She grunted as she found herself flat on her face against the wall as Worf restrained her.
"Sir," Worf prompted.
Data stepped forward to conduct the search.
Several concealed weapons had been an understatement.
Starting at her feet, Data found a holster containing a knife strapped inside her boot. As he worked his way up Tasha's leg, he discovered a second holster housing a portable torch.
While it was typical for many Security and Engineering officers and engineers to carry such a tool, it could theoretically be swung as a blunt weapon.
On the opposite leg, she had a multitool hidden on her person—complete with an old-fashioned screwdriver, pliers, and a small knife.
To Data's alarm, she had a pack of microcharges concealed in the front of the waistband of her dress trousers.
"Are those…?" Keiko trailed off as Data set them on the counter along the wall.
"Explosives? Yes," Data answered.
"Typically, these are only carried by senior Security officers for opening sealed airlocks or bulkheads," Worf explained.
On the inside of her wrist, Tasha had an emergency communication beacon transmitter.
"Curious," Data remarked as he detached it.
Such a device was generally only carried by away teams during dangerous or high-level diplomatic missions. They were an advanced piece of technology, quite rare, and generally only employed in emergencies.
It was indisputable that an emergency had taken place on the Bridge.
However, if an emergency occurred requiring Riker to take over as Acting Captain through a violent mutiny, this First Officer would have no way to have known such an event were to occur.
Furthermore, she would not have had time to retrieve one from the armoury during such an emergency.
Had they been on an away mission? Another ship? Or planet?
They had not yet ruled out the possibility of infection or mental manipulation. If these individuals had been present on another ship or planet, it was possible they may have carried such a contagion or weapon back to the Enterprise .
Data stood up and glanced at the small armoury that had been concealed on her person. It was a shocking discovery.
"You finished yet?" Tasha asked in agitation.
Data cocked his head to the side.
There was something nagging at him—a sense that he couldn't trust her.
"Just a moment, Lieutenant Worf," Data said as Worf made to release her.
Data ran his hand down the length of Tasha's back and stopped as he felt something concealed in the small of it.
"Oi! Watch your hands," Tasha threatened as he reached under her dress uniform to retrieve a level-one phaser tucked in a hidden holster.
Worf and Data exchanged a dark look.
Deanna could feel that there was something else Tasha was hiding. However, she was hesitant to share this information without something concrete to back it up.
As Deanna had no evidence to the contrary, she didn't want to out her empathic abilities yet.
"Satisfied?" Tasha demanded, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Data nodded to Worf to release her.
One she had turned around, Data swooped in.
Tasha froze as his hand snaked its way up underneath her uniform top
Deanna was on alert. She was hit with an overwhelming sense of fear. It radiated off Tasha as Data continued his search. Her body tensed. Her mind went blank.
Tasha wanted to be anywhere else. She couldn't think about Data's hand under her shirt or the fact she was helpless to stop it.
"Ah ha!" Data said triumphantly as his hand closed around the Andorian ice-miner blade she kept holstered there.
Data and Tasha locked eyes as he detached it and passed it to Worf.
For a brief moment, Data paused. He was struck by the look of betrayal on Tasha's face. Without breaking eye contact he reached back up her shirt.
"Data!" Deanna said in shock.
Tasha rolled her eyes and looked away, covering for the fact that this lack of consent left her deeply traumatised.
Data fished for the switchblade Tasha kept concealed in her bra. Tasha didn't know how or why, but it was her most prized possession and something she had learned to keep 'close to her heart' over the years.
Somehow, Data knew this too.
"Now I am," Data replied.
Worf was astonished at their haul.
"Impressive," Worf remarked.
Tasha tugged on her uniform, adjusting it before she crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. She turned her head away to hide the fact that she was mortified.
"Once again, if I were going to try anything don't you think I'd have done it by now?" Tasha snarled.
No one responded to her complaint.
"You'd better check each of those in properly!" Tasha hollered as they departed from her cell. "I expect to get all of them back!"
She kicked the wall in frustration as Worf, Deanna, Keiko, and Data left the Brig to return to the Security Office.
"How did you know those were there?" Keiko inquired.
She wasn't jealous of Data's actions. Rather, she was concerned that the thought hadn't even crossed her mind to check.
"I am uncertain," Data answered honestly. "I just did."
With Doctor Pulaski's blessing, Beverly was permitted to see to lunch for the prisoners. She brought them their ration packs for distribution and used the opportunity to administer another treatment to Captain Picard.
Beverly came back an hour later to collect their utensils—prisoners weren't permitted to keep them—and to check on the Captain's progress.
"Tasha, where is your knife and spoon?" Beverly asked.
She had been given strict instructions from Worf to count all the utensils after the meal.
Tasha looked at her sympathetically. Then she glanced back at the Captain.
"He's hardly eaten. Can't stomach much."
She reached under the bed and produced part of the ration pack and the spoon she had tucked away.
"I saved the soft foods," Tasha explained. "I was going to try and feed him again in a little while. He can only take small meals"
Tasha looked up at the Doctor, pleading for her to understand.
"Please, Doctor. He needs his strength."
Beverly was torn.
It was certainly true that Picard had barely managed to eat anything. The sedatives suppressed his appetite and made him drowsy. He'd been in and out of consciousness most of the morning.
"Where is the knife?" Beverly asked, noticing it too was conspicuously absent.
Tasha dropped her gaze to the floor and bit her lip.
Slowly, she rolled up her sleeve to reveal a rudimentary splint wrapped around her wrist. The knife was on one side and Tasha had ripped the bottom of her dress uniform to have something to wrap it with.
Beverly knelt down and scanned it with her tricorder.
She was partway through the scan when it died.
"Damn," Beverly commented.
She set the tricorder down next to her. Beverly unwrapped the wrist and set the material to the side.
Tasha hissed as the Doctor poked and prodded at her swollen wrist.
"The good news is that it doesn't feel like a complex break. But it's certainly fractured. You need treatment," Beverly said.
There was bruising and swelling consistent with an injury.
"How did this happen?" Beverly asked.
She had conducted a thorough scan the day before and Tasha hadn't been sporting such an injury then.
"I was trying to help the Captain up earlier," Tasha said, feigning more pain that she was actually in. "He wanted to stand and stretch. Slipped and hit the wall trying to keep him upright."
Of course, this was a lie.
Tasha had fabricated the story in order to regain some of the tools necessary for their escape.
The injury, however, was real.
Two hours earlier, Tasha had summoned every ounce of her own personal mental strength in order to fracture her own wrist without drawing the attention of the guard.
"I just didn't want him to fall," Tasha lied.
Beverly felt awful.
She wanted to help, but they were so limited on medical supplies there was little she could do. The osteogenic regenerators were in short supply. Splints were an antiquated treatment in comparison to their modern treatments.
Medical was already using any and all supplies they could to form splints for the other injured crew in Sickbay.
"Alright, alright," Beverly conceded. "But if we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly."
She reached for the other knife from Picard's ration pack.
"No," Tasha said, stopping her. "I don't want the Captain to get into trouble."
She was laying it on thick in order to appeal to Beverly's kind nature.
"Please, I insist. And as your Doctor, I'm ordering this is medically necessary."
Using the two knives from their lunch, Beverly carefully wrapped Tasha's wrist. She smiled when she was finished.
"There. That's better."
"Thank you, Doctor," Tasha replied.
Beverly got up from the floor and made to leave.
She stopped just shy of the edge of the cell. She looked for the guard and then turned back to Tasha.
"I almost forgot," she said aloud.
Beverly knelt down next to her. Tasha watched with curiosity as the Doctor ran her dead tricorder over the Captain.
"Is there anything else you need down here?" Beverly whispered before adding. "Strictly medically speaking."
It took every ounce of Tasha's self-control not to smirk.
Her plan had worked.
Not only that, but it was also going better than she could have imagined.
"Could you wrangle an extra pillow or two for the Captain? To help prop him up? Might make it easier for him to breathe," Tasha requested in a low voice. "And could I have an extra one? Sleeping on the floor and all…"
"That shouldn't be a problem," Beverly replied.
"I know things are bad, but if there is any way you could get us a dermal regenerator for the Captain?" Tasha asked out of the corner of her mouth. "Or some of that pain gel? Um, I think it's triptacederine?
"Consider the gel done," Beverly replied. "As for the regenerator, I'll do my best."
Tasha couldn't believe her luck.
Triptacederine was a common medical pain relief gel.
It was also highly flammable and burned quickly at extreme temperatures. It was an old security trick that could be used to open emergency hatches, sealed bulkheads, or destroy sensors or locks in a pinch.
Tasha had already stored away three-quarters of her rations. By tonight, she'd have another two meal packs and the tools necessary to escape.
Deciding it was worth the risk, Tasha took a gamble.
"Do you have a thoron generator? For his burns?" Tasha inquired.
Beverly cocked her head to the side.
It was an odd request. The Captain certainly had sustained a number of serious burns around his wound. But that phase of his treatment was quite a way off.
"He's complaining about the itch," Tasha added, hoping to really sell it.
Beverly weighed the request carefully. Itching was a common side effect of treatment with the dermal regenerator. A thoron generator would provide some relief. And it was strictly a medical device. It couldn't be used to disable the forcefield and was too small to be an effective blunt weapon.
"I'll do my best," Beverly said.
With that, she left.
Tasha turned back to the Captain.
"Lieutenant?" he asked, barely able to open his eyes.
He was still heavily drugged.
"We're getting out here, sir," Tasha whispered. "Tonight."
Across the corridor in the Brig, Miles and Geordi noticed that Tasha was trying to get their attention.
The two were sitting on the ground, staring at the forcefield in front of them.
They had to have already gone through about a thousand different theories on how to shut it down. They were useless without a toolkit. Worse still, they had no way to take out the guard.
"Is that sign language?" Geordi whispered.
"Hand signals," Miles replied. "We used 'em in the Border Wars."
Miles was one of the numerous Enterprise officers that had served during some of the darkest years of the conflict and knew these tactics well.
As the guard approached, Tasha stopped in favour of pretending to pick at her fingernails.
Once the guard had passed, Tasha waited a few seconds before resuming.
"What is she saying?" Geordi asked.
Miles watched carefully. It had been years since he'd been on a mission where such protocols were required. It took her nearly three full minutes to get the message out and repeat it to ensure it was communicated properly.
Once she was done, Miles gave her a discreet thumbs up. Miles dropped his voice low.
"We're getting out of here. Tonight. She said she'll come to us."
Geordi was conflicted.
While he certainly knew he didn't belong in the Brig, he had his reservations about making an escape. It would only seek to further Riker's mistrust of them. And there was a big risk of capture.
Geordi wanted to find an amicable resolution that didn't involve getting shot.
"Do you think we're doing the right thing, Chief?" Geordi asked.
"Well, I know I don't belong in the Brig and I'm not waiting around to find out why we're in here," Miles retorted.
Several hours later, Keiko was on her way down to the Brig to deliver the prisoners' evening rations. Halfway out of the Security Officer, she was stopped by Doctor Beverly Crusher.
"I can take those," Beverly offered. "I'm on my way down to the Brig. I've got to check on Captain Picard's injury again."
"Oh! Of course. Thank you, Doctor."
Keiko was long overdue for a break.
She had found no relief as the day dragged on. In fact, with each passing hour she felt more and more out of place as she oversaw the Security operations.
The Bridge had been a terrifying experience. Fortunately, Worf and Data had been kind enough to show her around the Tactical station and explain her role as Security Chief within that capacity.
As Chief Tactical Officer, Worf would oversee the weapons systems.
Meanwhile, Keiko was expected to monitor incoming and outgoing communications, a variety of sensors, and shield integrity.
Had it not been for Data's kindness and patience, she wasn't sure she would have lasted as long as she had.
More than anything, she was looking forward to getting back to their quarters as Data had promised they would go to the Arboretum that night for a stroll.
Her last responsibility before signing off for the day was to feed the prisoners.
Eager to get to her date with her husband early, Keiko readily handed over the rations to the Doctor.
"Thank you!" Keiko replied brightly before heading off to their quarters.
Tasha grinned as she opened her ration pack. She was pleased to see the Doctor had managed to slip in some extra protein bars.
Beverly tucked an extra pillow under the Captain to help prop him up. The new angle would provide him with better rest and allow the Captain to breathe easier.
When Beverly was done treating the Captain, she stood up and turned to Tasha.
"I hope he finds some relief tonight," Beverly said knowingly before glancing at the Captain and then back at Tasha.
Tasha got the message and replied with a small nod.
"Thank you—for everything, Doctor," Tasha replied in earnest.
Tasha took up her position on the ground next to the cot and politely picked at her yogurt in order to give the appearance that there was nothing out of the norm.
As soon as the guard completed his pass, Tasha felt under the blanket.
She kept a straight face on the outside, but inside she was beaming as her fingers closed in around a tube of the pain gel, a thoron generator, and a dermal regenerator.
Tasha flashed a thumbs up to Geordi and Miles across the corridor.
We're in business!
Data flipped through his wardrobe looking for something casual to wear. He had been more than happy to go to the Arboretum in his uniform, but Keiko had suggested they loosen up a little first.
Data discovered that he owned very little personal clothing.
He was about to snag a simple black shirt and trousers when he spied a familiar gold uniform top.
Data reached for the garment and pulled it out to examine it better. Running his hands across the gold braid around the offset collar and along the length of the garment, Data was struck by a thought.
It was exactly like the uniforms that Captain Picard, Lieutenant Yar, and Lieutenant La Forge had worn on the Bridge.
Data's mind reeled.
Their assumption of Tasha and Geordi's positions had been, in part, based on their unique uniforms. They were dressed unlike the rest of the crew on the Bridge.
However, this latest discovery was evidence that such an assumption had been made in error.
If Data owned the same uniform, it could not be possible that such uniforms were merely used to distinguish rank.
"Data, are you ready?" Keiko called from the other room.
With the uniform in hand, Data stepped out to find her waiting at the table.
"Forgive me, I need to speak with Captain Riker immediately," Data said.
-X_
Riker didn't feel comfortable using Captain Picard's Ready Room. Riker ordered that all discussion between himself and his First Officer would take place in Riker's personal quarters instead.
"Come," Riker called out as Data activated his door alarm.
As soon as Data stepped inside, Riker spied the uniform he was carrying.
"Sir, I found this in my quarters," Data explained as he laid the uniform down on the table.
Riker said nothing.
Instead, he turned and disappeared into the bedchamber of his quarters. A moment later, he reappeared holding the same uniform over his arm.
"What a coincidence," Riker commented as he held up the garment for Data.
They were both similar dress uniforms with the braid accent and extended length customary for such a garment. Data's was Operations Gold and Riker's was Command Red.
"It would appear our theory as to the distinct nature of Lieutenant Yar and Lieutenant La Forge's uniforms is incorrect," Data remarked.
"Why do I get the feeling everything about this is incorrect?" Riker mused aloud.
He signed and put the uniform down across the back of a chair. Riker stepped over to the window and propped his leg up on the edge of his end table.
"None of this seems right," Riker went on as he looked out at the stars. "But clearly something happened, and Captain Picard was relieved of duty."
Data nodded in agreement.
Unfortunately, Engineering was still horribly behind on their timetable for the computer repairs. They were flying without a net—with no sense of who they were or what their mission had been.
Riker picked a book up from his coffee table and tossed it to Data.
"I found this earlier. Open it."
It was a copy of a book, Ode to Psyche. There was an inscription written inside that read 'To my Imzadi.' It was signed 'All my love' followed by a signature that was largely scribbled but the last name was clear.
Troi.
Data accessed his internal memory banks for information on the term 'Imzadi.'
He quickly realised it was a Betazoid term of endearment that loosely translated to 'beloved.' But there was a much deeper spiritual meaning to the word. It wasn't a mere term of endearment, nor was it used lightly. It defined the bond held between two souls that all Betazoids believed was capable.
While not strictly romantic, it was a deep connection shared between the closest of friends or lovers.
"She's a beautiful, intriguing woman," Riker said. "But I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the idea that Lwaxana Troi is my Imzadi."
Riker sighed and turned back to Data. Riker shook his head.
"We need to figure this out. Soon."
He was worried what could happen if they were to continue on without figuring out the root cause of this memory loss incident or the reason behind his mutiny against Captain Picard.
The entire crew was on edge.
"I fear what awaits us if we don't get some answers in the next day or so," Riker admitted. "Worf's worried about another mutiny. I can't argue with his thinking."
Data blinked as he calculated the likelihood of such an event.
"You don't need to run the odds, Data," Riker said. "I got the report of what was found during the search in Brig earlier today."
Acting Captain Riker had been alarmed by the number of weapons found during their search of the prisoners.
"In fairness, all of those weapons were limited to one prisoner," Data explained. "And I do not believe it was her intention to harm us."
Riker quirked an eyebrow at his First Officer.
"We're not talking about just a phaser or a knife," Riker argued. "She was concealing a small arsenal on her person."
"That is a fair assessment," Data acknowledged.
Riker ran his hand back through his hair. It was bad enough having assumed command through a violent mutiny. It would be even worse if he were to lose it under similar circumstances. The ship couldn't afford that kind of turmoil.
"I want the prisoners separated in the morning," Riker ordered. "Move Lwaxana Troi and the bartender to guarded guest quarters. They don't seem to be much of a threat."
Data opened his mouth to protest. There was something about the enigmatic Guinan that left Data feeling that they should not underestimate her.
"What of the others?"
"I think it's best we keep them in the Brig for now," Riker said. "Maybe we can look at releasing them under guard in a few days."
"And Lieutenant Yar?" Data pressed.
Riker chuckled.
"Oh, she's staying in the Brig. Not a chance I'm going to let her out."
Down in the Brig, the guard completed his 22:15 pass. Tasha was lying on her side on the floor, pretending to be asleep.
As soon as the guard passed, Tasha pulled one of the extra pillows out from under the cot. She put it under the blanket to make it look as if she were curled up. Tasha hoped that in the dark it would be sufficient to not catch the guard's attention.
Tasha crept along the floor over to the cabinet built into the wall.
She opened the panel that led to a ventilation and water pipe that could be accessed for emergency maintenance. It took considerable effort given the delicate nature of her wrist.
Carefully unwrapping her makeshift splint to access the knife she'd stolen, Tasha set to work.
