Author's Note: Hey. How you doing? It's been a *rough* long, cool minute since I've counted myself among the land of the living. In truth, I feel like I've shambled out of the Pet Sematary.
Thank you for all your support and patience. I'm sorry that I have not been responsive. It's been so great to hear from you all. It's just been a mental struggle to find the spoons.
This is a five-part drop (yes, you read that correctly). There's a lot of telegraphing in this instalment, much of which will not play out until much later in the series.
There's also a lot of movement between scenes. This is an ensemble-heavy instalment. However, we will be returning to a Data/Tasha focus soon. I promise!
I also need to offer my sincere apologies.
The last nine months have been a challenge for me personally as I've grappled with some major life changes and loss all to the backdrop of this unstable, frightening political hellscape we're all trying to navigate.
This series is so important to me that when things began to devolve in my personal life, I turned my attention to future portions of this series. They are my favourite. I wrangled with dropping more versus my desire to preserve some of the plot surprises.
Discouraged, I had to had to step back.
Then I struggled with feeling like I had failed for stepping away at all.
I focused my energy on conducting another in-depth SPAG cleanup of my works (not an easy task given the size and still far from complete) and on other fandoms.
So, THANK YOU for your kindness and patience as I sort through things.
For my own well-being, I am moving back to my earlier model of chapters near 10k words. It does shakeup my outline. However, I'm hoping this change will make it easier for me to resume working on this series.
Chapter Notes
The title of this chapter is taken from the line "Pulvis et umbra sumus" in Horace's Odes which translates to "we are dust and shadow."
It think it encapsulates well the fate of the Iconians, the conversation Data & Tasha had re: stardust, the looming fear of war, the destruction of Ekloire/Lantera, and a bit of foreshadowing.
History repeats itself and we know that even interstellar empires cannot stop cosmic forces.
There's a bit of banter here between Raffi & Picard. Raffi will not join as a regular character until a much later part of the series (Picard). However, I really wanted to show that Jean-Luc's interest in Romulan politics and culture (and how it relates to Iconia) started long before the events of Picard.
Onward we go…
C/W: Violence, death, injury, substance use/abuse, and pregnancy.
Notes re: Galaxy-class ship layout: TNG was pretty inconsistent about the deck layout for Galaxy-class ships. There are also numerous conflicting guides.
In my own headcanon, Deck 1 houses the Bridge, Observation Lounge, & Picard's Ready Room (along with a water closet because people absolutely still pee in space).
Meanwhile, Deck 2 functions almost like an extension of the Bridge—replicators/small lounge for breaks, a conference room (larger than the Observation Lounge but not quite Ten Forward size), etc.
I recognise it is a hot debate topic among Trek fans—but I do believe there were stairs on the Enterprise. Obviously, the turbolifts were the primary method of travel that ran throughout the ship. But I think deck-to-deck areas in key places likely had stairs too in order to facilitate moving a lot of people without waiting on the lifts.
Lastly, in The Complication universe, the viewscreen on the Bridge is not just a holographic projection.
Iconia
Captain Picard and Raffi reached an intersection. He automatically turned to take the left passage without pause. Raffi went to the right.
"Uh… where you going?" she asked.
"We came this way," Picard said, indicating to the left passage.
Raffi moved her torch to shine light on a marking carved into the wall.
"We came from this direction. I remember passing this," she explained.
"And I distinctly recall that we took two right turns before we reached the long corridor," Picard said. "For all we know that symbol could appear dozens of times in this facility."
Raffi nodded slowly.
"Yes, sir. I have no doubt of that. It is the Iconian symbol for 'Passage.'"
Jean-Luc quirked an eyebrow. He was impressed with her grasp of the language.
"Well then, shall we," he said, turning to back to the corridor to the left.
"Sir, stop!" Raffi pleaded.
Jean-Luc paused and turned. His tone was not one of anger, but he was clearly frustrated.
"Lieutenant?"
"That's the symbol for 'Dyungyn.'"
There was no precise translation.
"The closest meaning is something akin to 'noxious' or 'dangerous air,'" Raffi explained. "I don't exactly know what it means in the context of this facility. Hell, it could be the toilet for all we know."
Picard couldn't help but chuckle. Her sense of humour was so much like Donald Varley that Jean-Luc could understand why Varley had gravitated toward a mentorship with this Lieutenant.
"But if you ask me, it's probably something like reactor cores or maybe coolant storage," Raffi said, scanning the junction overhead. "Given our location, it would make the sense. Whatever is powering this place would likely have some sort of centralised access."
Picard smirked.
"Indeed. It would seem your plan is the best course of action. Lead the way," Picard said as he gestured to the passage on the right.
Jean-Luc could admit when he was wrong, and he appreciated Raffi's courage in standing up to his criticism. It was a rare quality among officers.
"May I ask—where you do develop such a keen interest in Iconia?" Picard inquired.
The legend of Iconia had carried on down through the ages. But there was—up until recently—so little evidence to support its existence, that many archaeologists had written it off a permanent mystery.
Some believed Iconia was lost to the ages. Others felt it was legend that had started as a small, minor civilisation of little importance that had simply snowballed over time into a legend that far exceeded the original Iconian Empire.
Raffi laughed.
"I wasn't," she said. "At least, not at first."
Picard quirked an eyebrow in her direction.
"Before the Treaty of Algeron, my grandfather was a cultural attaché for the Federation. He was part a joint exchange programme between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire," Raffi explained.
Such an exchange was unthinkable now. But there had been a brief time near the turn of the century when a change in the Romulan political sphere led to thaw in relations between the Empire and the Federation.
For nearly a decade, the two powers engaged in formal diplomatic relations. It was a tense, chilly relationship—but a relationship, nonetheless. That in and of itself was a major shift in policy for both powers.
It took years to coordinate the cultural exchange programme as both powers had reservations. Eventually, a desire to share music, art, language, and theatre won out. And it was the hope that this exchange would eventually lead to similar programmes of a scientific nature.
The era was hailed as the Golden Age of Federation Diplomacy.
It did not last long.
And when regime change came to the Romulan Empire, it came swiftly. A renewed declaration of war came next followed by months of open hostilities as the interstellar powers struggled to stabilise the situation.
Thousands of Romulans found themselves trapped on the wrong side of the Neutral Zone. Some chose to remain, pleaded for amnesty. Others longed to return to the Empire.
Wary of spies, the Romulans refused any passage back across the Neutral Zone.
Regardless of why they remained, all of the Romulans in the Federation found themselves facing persecution, ridicule, and a shadow of suspicion. Their assets were seized. They were detained for questioning—sometimes for years.
"They weren't spies. They were artists. Musicians. Actors," Raffi explained. "Many of the people my grandfather came to call friends were rounded up. They simply disappeared."
It was one of the darkest (and least acknowledged) chapters of Federation history.
"Because my grandfather worked for the Federation government, people started turning to him, hoping he could help them locate their missing relatives and friends," Raffi continued.
The detained Romulans were not Federation citizens. Nor was the Federation keen to admit they were holding these people. The detained Romulans found themselves in a precarious legal position where they had no rights.
"He got involved in the push for public acknowledgement of their detention. Eventually, he became a legal advocate for Romulan refugees," Raffi said.
The Empire wouldn't take them back and the Federation didn't want them. The Romulan diaspora had no allies. Few people were willing to march or publicly appeal on behalf of a people that had long been painted as the enemy.
"Their lives here were stripped away. And then they were denied the ability to carve out new ones," Raffi continued. "They couldn't find work. They couldn't serve in Starfleet. They were barred from joining the Vulcan Science Academy, the Andorian Collegiate. Hell, they weren't even permitted to form their own cultural association."
After their release from Federation detention, many turned menial work. Even then, they were not permitted to work in any Starfleet facilities. The Federation government prohibited employment at any official Federation starbase, ship, or building. And most individual Federation member powers enacted similar restrictions.
"I remember my father telling me that at one point there were so many Romulans living in my grandfather's house that he couldn't walk two feet without tripping over someone else," Raffi recounted fondly.
Her expression darkened.
"Forgive me. I don't mean to poke fun. I have a lot of good memories, but I know it was awful," Raffi went on.
Raffi had seen it in the second and third generation Romulans that she knew growing up. Most Romulans changed their names and lived under manufactured Vulcan genealogy to cover their Romulan identities. They hid their cultural practices and taught their children to maintain the charade.
Many did not even risk practicing their Romulan customs in the privacy of their own home for fear that they would be found out.
"They gave up their life's work so that their children could live free from the shadow of suspicion," Raffi said.
Every few years or so a new case cropped up where a Starfleet officer or Federation official was discovered to have hidden their Romulan ancestry. In some cases, the individuals in question had no idea that a Vulcan grandparent or great-grandparent was actually a Romulan in hiding.
"My grandfather never retired. He fought right up until his death. My father followed in his footsteps—first working within the Federation Council and later he took over my grandfather's practice."
"And that's how you became interested in Iconia?" Picard said, piecing it together.
Raffi grinned.
"Actually, it was the story of the Rinam r'Aia," Raffi shared.
Rinam r'Aia.
Picard knew that phrase. He had read it long ago but could not place it.
"The Eight Sisters," Jean-Luc translated aloud. "I'm not familiar with that story."
"Nobody is," Raffi replied.
The Captain and Raffi rounded another corner. Things were starting to look familiar. They had passed these pillars once before. Jean-Luc was now confident they were nearly back to the command centre.
"Karnok r'Suteon was one of the Romulans that found himself trapped here," Raffi explained.
Jean-Luc recognised the name. Karnok R'Suteon was a famous Romulan poet and historian. His vast knowledge provided one of the primary modern sources of Iconian legend from a Romulan perspective.
"He gifted my grandfather a hand-bound copy of the Rinam r'Aia," Raffi went on.
Karnok claimed it was the only one left in existence—a rare piece of Romulan history saved from a time when many Romulan books and works of art depicting Iconian legends of the Zhat Vash were purged and burned.
"He said his great-great-grandfather saved it from the fires. And that the story is forbidden."
Great pains were taken to eliminate any public knowledge of the Zhat Vash. Over time, they became nothing more than a legend—although rumours persisted that they were real.
"The story claims that there were once eight sisters who uncovered a powerful secret," Raffi said.
Jean-Luc smirked.
"Even their fairytales are all secrets, eh?" he quipped.
"No one quite knows what the secret was. Even Karnok wasn't sure. Some think it was a weapon or an energy source. Some think it was space travel. Others still believe the secret was an allegory for knowledge itself."
Raffi herself wasn't entirely sure. She had studied enough legends and mythology to know that there was usually at least a nugget of truth behind every story.
"Two of the sisters considered this power a great discovery. They thought they could work in harmony with it, that it would lead their people to great things," Raffi continued. "Two sisters thought they could harness the power for themselves and use it to conquer their enemies."
Another recurring Romulan theme. Thought Picard.
"Two sisters wanted to destroy it before it could destroy them. Another two sisters thought it was best to bury the secret forever."
"Obviously, they won out in the end," Picard said.
"Not before the discovery destroyed all life on their planet. The story went that one of the sisters was curious and trusting."
It was a dangerous combination according to the Romulans.
"She unleashed whatever that secret was. At first, this power was welcomed. Some even came to worship it—angering the Romulan Divines. According to the story, that power grew to overshadow the sisters. They couldn't control it."
Of course, in a children's fairytale this power was represented as nothing more than an ethereal golden glow emanating from a treasure chest.
"But that's only seven," Picard said. "You've only accounted for seven sisters."
Raffi grinned.
"Yes," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "The eighth and final sister is the one that discovered her sister had unleashed the secret. She warned the others—and their gods."
Picard was intrigued. Faith was not something the Romulans discussed readily with outsiders. But Jean-Luc knew enough to have a basic understanding. The Romulans considered their Divines to be strange, cruel beings with otherworldly powers that were worshipped as divine spirits or gods. At the same time, they believed their own leaders embodied the very power and authority of their divines.
"And so, the Divines saved them?" Picard inquired.
Raffi laughed.
"Oh no. The Divines refused their protection. They allowed that secret power to wipe out all life on their planet. The only people spared were the eight sisters."
Raffi could still recall with perfect clarity the drawings of a lush world reduced to ash.
"Not unlike some of the Iconian legends—a world consumed by fire," Picard said.
In fact, the story struck an oddly similar tone to the legend of Seb-Natan and Seb-Cheneb that Captain Rixx had recently introduced to Jean-Luc.
"The story ends with the Romulan Divines locking the secret away forever. The planet became a prison. And the eight sisters were punished by the Divines. They were ordered to guard the secret for all eternity, living out their days among the graveyard that was once their home."
The story was a fable, a warning for Romulan children not to trust the promises of treasure or the ways of outsiders. It reinforced the idea that danger would befall anyone who turned their back on the Romulan way of life.
"You see, I've always loved mysteries. When I was little girl, I used to spend all my free time reading—Maigret, Sherlock Holmes, Dixon Hill…"
Jean-Luc couldn't hide his amusement.
"Is something funny?" Raffi asked.
"I'm a bit of a Dixon Hill fan myself," Picard confessed.
"Then I'm sure you can understand why mystery-obsessed nine-year-old would want to discover the secret of her favourite story," Raffi said.
"Like Alice down the rabbit hole," Picard mused.
Raffi nodded.
"The Romulans I grew up with, well, some claimed it was forbidden. Others said it was only a myth to scare children. Some claimed it didn't exist at all and the story itself was just a legend designed to scare people off the Tal Shiar," Raffi explained.
"Perhaps it was?" Picard suggested.
"I think Karnok gave my grandfather that book because he wanted that story to be told. I think he wanted to ensure it wasn't forgotten," Raffi said.
Legend or not, it was one small piece of Romulan history that was safe from the long tentacles of the Empire.
At long last, Captain Picard and Raffi arrived at the Iconian command centre. It was relief to be back there—even if they still weren't sure how to free Data.
"And so, you've been chasing that childhood dream since?" Picard asked.
"All the way to Starfleet Academy," Raffi replied. "Which led me to Iconia…. quite literally."
Jean-Luc studied the Iconian console for a moment. He recognised a handful of the symbols, but he still felt like a young child trying to decipher a Starfleet Command Manual.
"Well, I have a new mystery for you to solve. How do we free Data?"
USS Enterprise
Tasha took a series of slow, steady breaths. She had managed to scale three decks inside the Jefferies tubes before she became lightheaded and had to pause.
Tasha had taken refuge in an adjacent tube that allowed her to sit without fear of falling. She was lying on her back, her eyes closed as she focused on her breathing.
She had already gotten up once and crawled back to the edge to try again—only to be hit with a fresh wave of dizziness.
A part of Tasha kicked herself for not adhering to Beverly's warning.
Duty first. Tasha reminded herself.
As the Chief of Security, it was her responsibility to ensure the safety of everyone on the ship—especially during a crisis. They were counting on her.
Tasha slowly made her way back to the edge of the tube. She risked a brief glance down the long shaft. Tasha swayed momentarily before falling back against the cool polymer of the Jefferies tube.
Even within the Jefferies tubes, Tasha could hear Admiral Quinn's message as it played on repeat. It reeked of Romulan influence, manipulating Starfleet personnel to turn against their own. And Tasha couldn't help but wonder how they had managed to get a message through the communications blackout. Data, Geordi, and Chief O'Brien had taken all precautions.
The Enterprise was either incredibly unlucky or someone had advanced skills—talent enough to counter measures Data designed.
Tasha steeled her nerves and gripped the ladder.
One foot after the other. She told herself.
By the time Tasha reached the armoury, things were already starting to unravel. Tasha didn't even have a chance to catch her breath. As she stumbled out of the Jefferies tube, she noticed a queue of people already in the process of issuing arms.
"Stand down!" Tasha ordered. "STAND DOWN!"
No one heard Tasha above the commotion.
Tasha caught the attention of Lieutenant Wu.
"What happened?" she asked, keeping her voice calm and low.
"I don't know," Wu said. "By the time I got here they'd already issued half a dozen phaser rifles."
The crowd was in a frenzy. Tasha's Security team was outnumbered. It was already too late to stop or take back what had gone out. At the head of the crowd, Commander Dunning was divvying officers up into groups. All Tasha could do now was try and lessen the fallout. It was too late to put the cat bag in the bag.
Tasha gripped Wu's arm and dropped her voice.
"I want a list of every rifle issued," Tasha said.
Wu nodded and set about her task while Tasha made a beeline for Dunning. To Tasha's great relief, Dunning was only too eager to relinquish command. By trade, Dunning was a geologist. He'd been roped into the role as acting subcommander by an overzealous senior officer.
"I'm so glad you're here," Dunning said as Tasha approached.
Dunning didn't know the first thing about tactical strategy.
"Lieutenant Commander Logan ordered me to divide everyone up into groups to secure the key areas of the ship," Dunning explained.
Tasha fought the urge to roll her eyes. That sounded exactly like the kind of thing Lieutenant Commander Logan would do. He was one of the Night Watch Commanders that valued rank above all else (including experience, training, and capabilities).
There were half a dozen people more apt than Dunning. But Logan had undoubtably chosen the geologists solely because of the number of pips on his collar.
Tasha turned to address the crowd.
"We already have Security teams assigned to all key areas of the ship," Tasha assured them. "You can stand down. Return to your homes. That is the safest thing you can do for all of us."
Only the crowd wasn't buying it.
"Where is Captain Picard?" demanded Ensign Lipovsky.
A rousing murmur of agreement circulated throughout the assembly. It was followed by more questions—why the blackout? Are we under siege? When will we be free to send messages? Why the message from Starfleet?
"Are we really in Romulan space?" asked another.
"Captain Picard said it would be a twenty-four blackout. That was a week ago!" hollered Lieutenant Jeong from the back.
Tasha closed her eyes for a moment. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a slow breath to steady her nerves. The nausea was back.
"Lieutenant?" Wu asked.
She couldn't ever recall seeing Tasha look so shaken.
Tasha lifted her head and scanned the faces of the crowd.
"Alright," she said in a resigned voiced.
The corridor fell eerily silent.
"Alright," Tasha repeated. "As you all know, we embarked on a dangerous mission."
That much was public knowledge. Captain Picard had felt it only fair to notify the crew of that much at least.
"I can't tell you the nature of this mission. And yes, we have encountered Romulan hostilities," Tasha acknowledged.
There was no sense in hiding that information. Everyone had already witnessed the battle at Lantera and the warbird that dropped out of warp earlier to confront them in orbit over Iconia.
"Captain Picard is doing everything he can to get us back home safely," Tasha promised.
"Then we are in Romulan space!"
"As you well know, the Romulans claim everything as their territory," Tasha countered.
The officers in the corridor nodded and murmured in agreement. Many were well acquainted with the stories of Romulan incursions along the border.
"What about that message?" Lieutenant Jeong pressed.
Tasha nodded.
"The ship sustained damage during our last encounter with the Romulans. These malfunctions—"
"Do you honestly expect us to believe that message is a malfunction?" roared Lieutenant Jeong.
"No," Tasha said in earnest, shaking her head.
Damn.
Internally, Tasha cursed her rotten luck. She knew it was a flimsy excuse. But Tasha wanted to believe that they were due for a tiny stroke of luck.
"We intercepted that message. The communications blackout has remained it place to ensure it wasn't broadcast to the ship," Tasha said.
It was a partially true.
"But the malfunction—"
Tasha trailed off. She scanned the faces of her colleagues, wordlessly pleading for them to accept this answer.
"This message is a Romulan trick," Tasha went on. "I urge you, do not play into their deception."
Tasha could tell she was starting to win the crowd over—even if it sickened her to know how easy it had been to lie.
"Then… then this message is not from Starfleet?" questioned Commander Dunning.
"Mark my words—the Romulans are behind this," Tasha said.
And of that she had no doubt.
"Please. Go back to your quarters," Tasha pleaded.
Tasha held her breath for an agonising three seconds. She wanted to collapse with relief when Commander Dunning turned his phaser rifle back in to the armoury. Soon, the rest of the crowd followed.
Tasha smiled politely, feigning patience and ease as they lined up to turn their phaser rifles back in. She thanked each one. She was the picture of poise.
But inside, Tasha was shaken to her core.
The crowd was quelled—for now. There were still a dozen officers with phaser rifles out there under the command of the hot-headed Lieutenant Commander Logan.
The moment the crowd began to disperse, Tasha snagged Commander Dunning to thank him for following protocol and to ask a very important question.
"You said Lieutenant Commander Logan authorised this?" Tasha asked.
Lieutenant Commander Logan was the senior Night Watch commander. Though not considered a senior Bridge officer, Logan did fall in the chain of command (albeit, after the Chief Engineer).
"Where did go? Where was he headed?" Tasha pressed.
"He took a group to the Bridge," Dunning said.
Of all the times for the Captain, Data, and Worf to be on an away mission! Tasha thought bitterly.
Tasha couldn't confront Logan alone. She needed a team she could trust, a team that didn't spook easily, and a team that wasn't afraid to do what was necessary if it came to it.
There was a very real possibility they may need to hold the Bridge against their crew. Only Tasha was hoping to resolve the situation before things got out of hand.
She turned to Lieutenant Wu.
"Gear up. We've got a long climb," Tasha ordered.
USS Enterprise | Main Engineering
Geordi had his hands full as the Iconian virus chewed its way through system after system—methodically working to tear the Enterprise apart from inside.
The ship had taken a page from her late sister-ship. Modelled after the Yamato's attempt to maintain the lines of communication, Geordi and Miles had rigged key areas with secondary comms options. They were using old model communicators pulled from storage that worked like short-range radios.
Only their foolproof plan hit a snag.
"Bridge? Bridge? Bridge, this is Engineering. Please respond."
A dark look passed between Geordi and O'Brien.
Geordi clicked to activate the transmitter and tried again.
"Bridge, please come in."
There was no response. They had not been able to raise the Bridge or Sickbay since the latest series of malfunctions wormed their way into the communications and electrical systems.
"Something must be blocking it. Interference," Miles suggested.
"Chief, we need to restore comms," Geordi urged.
He took up a spot opposite of Miles at the central command console in Main Engineering.
"We have a bigger problem," Miles warned.
Geordi squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
"I know. I know. We still haven't found a way to isolate the antimatter containment seals," Geordi acknowledged.
They needed to cut that system off, to isolate it in a way that provided a layer of protection from the main computer and the Iconian virus. They had been trying ever since the malfunctions began to plague the Enterprise in the wake of the Yamato's destruction.
Thus far, all attempts had failed. There simply wasn't anything with the storage, security, processing capacity necessary that was separate from the main computer.
"Communications first," Geordi ordered. "We need to get this damn message shut down."
He recognised the fallout would be swift if people took Admiral Quinn at his word. People were already on edge and Captain Picard's gruff attitude in Engineering and other departments had done little to win over public opinion in the last day.
"Sir, we have a bigger problem," Miles urged.
Other crew members may have simply let the matter drop—but Miles O'Brien knew when to push back.
"Don't tell me the antimatter containment is failing," Geordi pleaded.
"No. It's the message. Whoever or whatever managed to bypass our communications blackout has activated our subspace relays."
Geordi's hands stopped typing. He dropped everything and looked up to Mile's eyes.
"The relays?"
"All of them," Miles answered.
A chill ran down the back of Geordi's spine.
"It's acting like a beacon. It's broadcasting our location," Miles said.
Geordi hurriedly swiped aside his own work screen to pull up the communications array and long-range sensors. The data on the screen was like a kick to the gut for someone already down.
"It could be the virus or sabotage," Miles said.
"Either way, it doesn't matter," Geordi said.
They didn't have time to figure out how or why the bypass was possible, let alone investigate who or what was responsible. With the activation of the ship's relays and communications transistor, the Enterprise comms array was now, in essence, one big beacon.
And that beacon was broadcasting the location of the ship over short and long-range subspace channels.
All languages. All frequencies.
"Admiral Aaron. Starfleet. They'll be able to track our location," Geordi said.
"I'm more worried about the Romulans," Miles confessed.
"Chief, we have to get a message to the Bridge," Geordi said.
Commander Riker needed to be made aware. They would need to relocate the ship as soon as possible.
"We need to shut this down first," pressed Miles.
It would take time for someone to climb up to the Bridge via the Jefferies tubes. In any case, it would do no good to relocate the ship until the beacon was deactivated.
Geordi's brow furrowed. Perspiration began to form at his hairline as his hands danced across the console.
"My access to the comms system has been locked out. Attempting to override," Geordi said, talking as worked.
A loud error sound buzzed from the terminal.
"Bridge authorisation required. Dammit!" Geordi fumed.
"Could we try through a backdoor? A Maintenance channel?" Miles suggested.
Geordi frowned as he attempted to work around the lockout. He grumbled and hit the top of the console.
"No. It's all locked down."
"What about transferring command authorisation here to Main Engineering?" Miles asked.
"Now we're talking," Geordi agreed.
Main Engineering could function as a secondary Bridge in the event of an emergency that prevented the use of the Bridge and Battle Bridge. It required a formal transfer of command powers from the Bridge under the authorisation of two ranking officers.
From their positions on opposite ends of the primary terminal, Miles and Geordi initiated that transfer process. They had to work manually as the comms systems was still down thus preventing audio command input to the main computer.
Geordi and Miles nodded to one another to signify they were ready to input their codes.
Just as they were about to complete the transfer, both screens were visually scrambled. The images began corrupted, and it was impossible to proceed.
"We can't risk transferring Bridge control to this terminal," Geordi said.
The screen glitched again, now only a mix of bleeding colours from the LCARS system.
"Agreed. But we have to shut that beacon off," Miles said.
Geordi cupped his hand over his chin as he weighed his options. He scanned the room. Without a way to contact the Bridge, Geordi was in command—and he held the fate of the entire ship in his hands.
Geordi's gaze fell on an access hatch that led to a part of Main Engineering known colloquially as 'the grid.'
It housed the hardwire power cells that were responsible for diverting power to all the main computer systems.
Miles followed Geordi's line of sight.
"We don't have time to sort through that for the right channel," Miles said, anticipating Geordi's train of thought.
In theory, they could work their way through, systematically eliminating different power lines until they reached the source of the beacon. But that could take hours to locate and would involve testing different isolinear chips and hardwired lines to find the right one.
And with the Iconian virus that had infected the computer, there was no way to stop it from simply 'jumping' to a new home within the vast network of the Enterprise.
"We don't have to," Geordi said.
His voice indicated that Geordi was on to a plan, but hesitant—and with good cause.
"We cut the entire A2 panel. Comms, internal sensors—"
"Navigation. Sublight engines. Weapons. Shields," Miles countered.
Geordi waved his hands to stop O'Brien.
"I know! I know! But primary life support, thermal stabilisation, and emergency lighting would remain in place," Geordi said.
They had already isolated the primary life support and emergency lighting from the Iconian virus. That was key to their survival.
"Once the beacon is off, we can work backward. Isolating each system one by one as we switch them on," Geordi explained, outlining his plan.
Geordi smiled.
"For all we know this might kill that Iconian virus too," Geordi added.
They had previously theorised that a full system reboot might be enough to purge the Enterprise of the virus but had been reluctant to initiate one given the proximity of the Romulans.
"It would have nowhere to run," Geordi went on.
For a moment, neither man spoke as they weighed the risks of Geordi's idea.
"We have to shut that beacon down," Geordi pressed.
"It's a shit plan. Brilliant, but…"
Miles trailed off and scratched the back of his neck as he exhaled audibly.
"If we do this, we'll be adrift. Possibly for some time," Miles cautioned.
They needed time to test and reactivate each system.
Even if they prioritised restoration of the shield grid, the ship would be without shields for eight minutes. It would take at least twenty minutes to bring navigation back online, sublight engines another fifteen minutes after that.
Romulans sensors would easily detect the shields were down—leaving the Enterprise vulnerable to their disruptors or a boarding party.
Miles could see Geordi was struggling with the decision. Not that he could fault Geordi. It was a tough call with significant risk.
"If we don't do this, that virus will eventually find a way to tear the Enterprise apart," Miles said.
"I really wish Captain Picard or Commander Riker was here to make that call," Geordi admitted.
"You've got my vote of confidence for whatever that's worth," O'Brien said, offering Geordi a small smile.
Geordi wasted no time.
"Alright, listen up!" Geordi said, drawing the attention of the team in Engineering.
Every stopped their work, set down their tablets, and braced for dire news. Geordi had to shout to be heard of the looping message from Admiral Quinn.
"Things are gonna get dark for a little bit. We have to kill power to most of the primary and secondary systems to purge this virus. We'll need to check each system and make sure that damn virus doesn't jump to a new home."
To Geordi's relief, the team murmured in agreement. They were exhausted. Many of the crew present had been on duty since that morning—putting in a full shift and then some.
And they were tired of chasing digital gremlins.
"We've been busting our backsides all day just to stay one step ahead of this thing. I think it's time we turn the tables. Put this virus on the run for a change," Geordi went on.
"Here, here!" Miles said, tapping the side of the console.
"We also have to minimise the risk to the ship," Geordi continued. "Get these systems back online as soon as we can. Because if we don't—our goose is cooked."
That meant working fast and carefully.
"Gomez, Hawksworth, McIver—you're on shields. Murray, McNoll, N'Amir—navigation and helm controls."
Geordi rattled off instructions with proficiency and ease as he delegated out the various tasks necessary for their hefty workload. To the outward observer, there was no hint of the unease Geordi felt.
"Ryu, Clavell, Barclay. I'm counting on you to get sublight engines back online," Geordi concluded.
He gave them all moment for his orders to sink in. Then Geordi rubbed his hands together.
"Alright, you've got your orders. Let's get to work."
Iconia
Down in the ancient Iconian ruins, Raffi and Captain Picard were facing their own tough decision.
The pair was hunched over the primary control console in the Iconian Operations Centre.
"There," Raffi said, pointing at one corner of the holographic overlay.
Jean-Luc studied the schematic. They thought it was an overlay of the Iconian power grid and all related systems. All of the various branches sourced back to the area they identified as the power source. The various fluctuations and readings visible onscreen only seemed to reinforce that theory.
After pouring over the computer system for more than an hour, Captain Picard and Raffi had only managed to decode a handful of systems.
Now, they believed they had finally pinpointed the line necessary to free Data.
"If we cut this section of power, we should be able to reset the trap, right?" Picard suggested.
"Or cut off all of the life support. Possibly the shields," Raffi cautioned.
"If we don't do this, we lose Data. Then it won't matter whether we have shields or not," Picard countered.
Data was their only chance of deciphering the Iconian system. They would not be able to destroy it without him—let alone find an escape.
Raffi's hand hovered above the control console. She glanced over to Picard.
"You're sure you want to do this?" she asked.
There was no telling if the Romulan ship was still in orbit. It was equally possible that there more Romulan ships overhead. Captain Picard's team had been on the surface of Iconia for hours with almost no ability to track the events unfolding in orbit.
"No," Picard confessed. "But I'm going to do it anyway."
It took Data two-tenths of a second to register that the space between the stone slab and the wall was shrinking.
Data panicked as it pressed his body against the firm wall. He could not escape. The pressure grew tighter, constricting Data's system. He could feel the strain on his duranium skeleton. The pressure was too great for Data to even call out—not that it mattered.
Any second, the slab would crush his body beyond repair.
And then he heard it.
A soft click.
The ground shook violently. The pressure began to ease as the great stone slab retracted.
Data's coolant system began to regulate. Once more, he could artificially breathe free of the restrictive compression that had weighed on his chest.
Data slumped forward onto the floor.
He was alive, but Data did not have the strength to pull himself up. He remained on the floor, mentally and physically exhausted from the ordeal of the last several days.
Data knew that he had to pick himself up. But he needed a moment alone to process.
In the distance, Data heard footfalls approach on the stone floor. A moment later, Data was hauled into an upright position. Worf offered Data his arm—and (literally) Data's arm.
"Ah. I was missing that," Data said.
He wouldn't be able to reattach it on his own. But Data was relieved to know the arm that had been torn from his body was recovered. If they made it back, Geordi would be able to reassemble him in Main Engineering.
"Come. We must get you out of here," Worf said.
Data tried to take a step forward. He stumbled, his legs shaky from the damage.
"Whoa. Easy," Worf said as he caught Data.
"Forgive me, Lieutenant. My mobility functioning has suffered damage," Data apologised.
"You were injured," Worf said.
Data was about to correct that statement, but he was too tired. It took considerable focus just to remain conscious. He longed to activate his rest programme to give his neural net time to complete repairs.
Worf and Data made their way down the darkened corridor. Data leaned heavily on Worf for support. Were it not for Worf holding most of his weight, Data would have fallen again. Data was not accustomed to ever feeling so weak.
"I am sorry, Lieutenant," Data repeated.
"You have no reason to apologise, sir. I must see you back to the Enterprise safely. I have made a promise," Worf insisted.
Worf turned to head back in the direction they had originally come from. Only to Worf's surprise, Data stopped him.
"No. Please, we must continue on," Data said.
Worf stopped and turned toward the opposite side of the corridor. It had been their original destination before the trap sprung.
"We are close," Data said, hoping to urge Worf to continue.
"Captain Picard and Lieutenant Musiker—"
"We must investigate this," Data pressed. "It will take them too long to return. It is likely they have managed to get into the Iconian system if they were able to free me. And we should allow them to continue that work."
Worf and Data found themselves at an impasse.
"Lieutenant, that doorway is likely our only way out of here," Data pointed out.
"It is not safe," Worf said.
Data had one advantage. He knew Worf was a man of his word. Honour mattered above all else.
"Lieutenant, you may accompany me, or I will go myself," Data declared.
He wasn't above playing on humanoid emotion.
Worf paused and frowned.
"You are in no condition to—"
Worf stopped as Data started to limp back along the darkened corridor.
"Commander! Commander stop!" Worf called after him.
Data was moving slow but showed no sign of stopping. He was determined to find the Iconian doorway.
Worf glanced at the lit path ahead, the path that led back to the central control room where Captain Picard and Raffi were located. He turned back and watched as Data's shadow retreated into the dark unknown.
Worf closed his eyes and grumbled under his breath.
Squaring his shoulders, he took off after Data.
USS Enterprise | Deck 3
Tasha and Lieutenant Wu emerged on Deck 3 following a gruelling climb. Tasha practically stumbled out into the outer corridor on Deck 3. Wu was just behind her, tumbling out onto the carpet.
Up ahead, they could hear raised voices.
Tasha and Lieutenant Wu crept along the corridor until they reached the adjacent corridor. Just around the corner was the central corridor that housed the only non-turbolift access point to the Bridge.
There was already a crowd gathered—armed, demanding answers, and taking orders from a heated Lieutenant Commander Logan. There were over a dozen of them.
At the door, Ensigns Luis Cevallos and Jess Phillips were doing their best to hold back the unruly crowd.
"Let us through!" Logan shouted.
"The Bridge is on lockdown. Get back!" Cevallos ordered.
They had to holler to be heard above Admiral Quinn's message.
"We demand to see the Captain. Now!" Logan insisted. "And we're not leaving until we get some answers!"
A roar of approval went up from the assembly.
Tasha gripped Lieutenant Wu's forearm and pulled her back from the corner. She dropped her voice low and gave an order she had only issued a handful of times in her career.
"Lieutenant, we cannot allow them to access the Bridge."
Lieutenant Wu listened carefully as Tasha laid out the plan—she would draw the crowd's attention while Lieutenant Wu snuck around to seal access to the Bridge. There was an emergency control just on the other side of where the crowd was assembled.
With Tasha's security key, Wu could close the bulkhead and cut off all access to the Bridge. Once activated, only two senior officers could override. Tasha just had to be sure they sealed it before the crowd got wise to what was happening. She feared they might rush the officers on duty in an attempt to storm the Bridge.
Tasha had a sinking feeling the crowd would only grow more unstable once the bulkhead closed. But at least they wouldn't be able to access the Bridge anymore—regardless of what happened.
"I'll draw their focus away from the door. If you can, get the attention of Cevallos and Phillips. You three get down to the Security Office," Tasha ordered.
She instructed Wu to sit tight in the Security Office and await instruction from Commander Riker or the Bridge.
"Captain Picard isn't on the Enterprise, is he?" Wu asked, piecing it together.
Tasha knew she was caught.
"Captain Picard is on a critical mission. He must complete this mission. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Wu answered without hesitation.
She trusted Tasha—even in light of what Tasha was asking.
"And Lieutenant?"
Wu stopped and glanced back over her shoulder.
"Good luck," Tasha said.
"Back at ya," Wu replied with a wry smile.
Tasha counted the seconds, giving Lieutenant Wu adequate time to get into position. She kept her body pressed against the wall.
Tasha rolled her shoulders and rehearsed what she was going to say in her mind. Lieutenant Commander Logan was a hothead. He could pop off at the slightest provocation. There was no telling what he might say or do with a crowd of frightened people behind him.
Tasha's stomach fluttered.
She clutched her side to try and calm her nerves.
Steady.
It was easier said than done with Quinn's eerie message playing on loop.
You have six hours to withdraw from the Neutral Zone and surrender to Admiral Aaron or the Romulans will consider your presence a hostile act.
And no one, I repeat no one, who attempts to regain control of your ship in a good faith effort to return to Federation Space will be prosecuted.
You will have complete amnesty from any charges of mutiny.
It was as good as giving a man like Logan free reign to act on all the perceived grievances he'd collected since the Farpoint mission.
Tasha took a breath and then stepped out from around the corner to draw the attention of the crowd.
Sure enough, Logan was at the front with more than a dozen armed personnel behind him.
"Let us pass!" Logan demanded.
Ensign Luis Cevallos didn't budge.
"Go back to your quarters," Cevallos repeated.
Tasha fought the urge to position herself between Logan's crowd and the two Ensigns guarding the Bridge. She had to draw them away.
"We're not leaving!" Logan insisted.
He towered over the two Ensigns in an attempt to appear menacing.
"Commander."
Tasha's calm, authoritative voice cut across the crowd. Logan sneered when he caught sight of her.
"Well, it's about damn time we get some answers."
Logan turned his phaser rifle in Tasha's direction. She quickly found herself on the wrong end of more than a dozen phasers.
"Why don't we all put our phasers down, eh?" Tasha suggested.
She slowly lowered her body and put her phaser on the floor. Then she raised her arms to signify that she intended to do them no harm.
Roughly half the crowd followed suit. One by one the other officers began to lay down their arms. Tasha thought she might have handle on the crowd—until Logan refused to back down.
"Sure. And you've probably got Security teams already in place to take us into custody, huh? What kind of trick is this?" Logan demanded.
"No trick. No charges. Just put the phaser down," Tasha said in her smoothest voice. "Just put the phaser down and return to your quarters."
Logan tightened his grip on his phaser.
"Not a chance. As the senior Night Watch Commander, I'm taking command of the Enterprise," Logan announced.
Lieutenant Burns, a Geologist, was more reasonable. He stepped forward and put his hand on Logan's phaser rifle.
"We just want some answers," Burns said, pleading with both Logan and Tasha. "We don't want to escalate anything."
Tasha nodded.
"Of course. I understand. Everyone is concerned. And all these malfunctions, the loss of communication—"
Tasha was cut off by Logan.
"You're stalling," Logan snarled.
Over Logan's shoulder, Tasha saw Lieutenant Wu creep into position.
"What's really going on, Lieutenant?"
"Right now, we need everyone to go back their quarters until we can complete repairs—"
Logan didn't give Tasha a chance to even finish.
"This is what I mean! They won't even tell us the truth! Captain Picard is withholding information from all of us. And they don't care about you and me! They don't care about our safety!"
Tasha opened her mouth to protest—but Logan had no intention of giving up the floor.
"I don't want to hear your excuses. I have to think about my son. We all have to think about our families," Logan roared.
He was riling the crowd up, playing on their biggest fears. Shouts of concern, demands, and justifications for mutiny erupted from the room as people began to pick up their phaser rifles again.
"We have a right to know what's going on!" one man shouted.
"Captain Picard owes us some answers!" another hollered.
Logan smirked. In spite of Tasha's best efforts to diffuse the situation, Logan had managed to retain control of his mutineers. He raised an eyebrow in Tasha's direction.
"Now, for the safety of everyone on this ship—I'm going to speak with the Captain. Are you with us, Lieutenant Yar? Or not?"
USS Enterprise | Bridge
"Try the secondary reroute," Riker ordered.
Hawk popped up from behind the Conn and shook his head solemnly.
"No dice."
Commander Riker ran hand back and scratched his scalp. Perspiration had begun to accumulate along his hairline. Will felt utterly out of his element. He couldn't let the crew down. That responsibility weighed heavily on Will Riker.
Each attempt shut down the message from Admiral Quinn failed.
Every effort to wrestle computer control back from the virus only made things worse.
Communications were cut off. Riker had no way to contact Engineering or the Security office. Even written messages weren't transmitting. The environmental controls weren't functioning properly. It was nearly twice as hot on the Bridge as it typically was. Temps had climbed—and they were all breathing much harder than normal.
Riker was concerned about the increased oxygen use.
Hell, they couldn't even get water from the replicator on the Observation Lounge.
Without Captain Picard's steady guidance, Will felt like he was working without a net. He wanted Deanna's counsel, Worf's resolve, Tasha's composure, and Geordi's expertise.
More than anything, Will missed Data's presence on the Bridge.
Data would have known what to do. Data wouldn't be a bundle of nerves. If Data were in command, he would have already solved this crisis.
But there wasn't time to dwell on it—there was too much happening.
"Commander! We've got a problem!"
It was Lieutenant Jae.
"Dinner is gonna be late?" Riker asked.
"If only," Jae shot back.
"What do you got?"
Jae's dark brow furrowed.
"Sir, the Bridge access bulkhead on Deck 3 is sealing," Jae announced.
Riker abandoned his position near the Conn and raced back to the Operations console. He scowled as he surveyed the report. There was no visual. They could only see that there were a lot of lifesigns crowded in the corridor. There had to be at least twenty people.
Riker was concerned about the Security officers down in the corridor. He didn't want them facing off against an angry mob alone.
Riker tried to raise Cevallos and Phillips on his communicator. As expected, it failed.
"Get it open!" Riker ordered.
"I can't override, sir. It's sealed," Jae reported.
"On whose authorisation?"
Jae turned and glanced up at Riker, confused.
"Lieutenant Yar."
Jae didn't understand why this news seemed to bother Riker even more than before. She assumed it had to be because Riker had ordered Tasha to Sickbay.
"Maybe Doctor Crusher released her? She might have been on her way back to the Bridge?" Jae suggested.
"Yeah… yeah maybe," Riker replied in a strange voice.
There was no possible way Beverly would have already released Tasha. She was far too great a risk to the ship. Riker didn't want to believe Deanna that Tasha might really be the spy—but he couldn't argue with Deanna's evidence.
Now he feared what would follow.
Tasha had to have sealed the Bridge off for some reason—and Riker had a sinking feeling that it wasn't good.
"Keep working on it. We need to get down there and find out what's going on," Riker ordered.
USS Enterprise | Main Engineering
Geordi sat back on his knees and wiped the sweat from his brow.
He was proud of the way the team had rallied. They were all in position—ready to begin repairs on each system as soon as they cut power to the entirety of the A2 panel.
The ship would go dark for a bit as Geordi's team worked to isolate and restart each system one by one. The A2 panel included key systems like navigation, sublight engines, weapons, and shields.
Emergency lighting would also go offline and there would be a brief fluctuation in the environmental system (including life support).
Everyone was equipped with the last of the headlamps.
"Ready?" Miles asked.
"Chief, if this doesn't work—"
"I know. We'll go out the like Yamato. That's if the Romulans don't blast us out of the sky first," O'Brien finished for him.
Geordi nodded.
"Yeah. I just wanted to say that it's been a pleasure, Chief," Geordi said.
Miles gripped Geordi's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
"Don't make me weepy. You know how bad moisture is around all these circuits," Miles said.
"You still owe me that box of Andorian sugar candy from last month's poker night," Geordi reminded him.
O'Brien flashed Geordi a smile.
"Just pull the switch already," Miles said.
"Alright. Here we go," Geordi announced.
The gentle hum of the ship fell silent. The room was encased in darkness. For a moment, no one spoke as everyone in Engineering held their breath. It was a strange moment of peace in the midst of chaos.
"Alright, let's get to work," Geordi said.
USS Enterprise | Deck 3
Tasha found herself in a standoff with Logan and his mutineers. By far, Logan was the most adamant in his conviction. But Tasha knew that she stood a chance of ending this peaceably if she could lure away his support, suck the air right out from under his fire.
Trickle… flow… gush.
Staring at the faces behind those phasers, it was obvious that some of the people had serious reservations about Logan's demands. They weren't prepared to follow him in a mutiny. They wouldn't fire on their fellow Starfleet officers.
They just needed an out.
And once they had it—more would follow.
The ones that were caught in the middle were just frightened and confused. Isolated. Tasha could empathise. The crew had been driven to the breaking point.
"Look, I can't make contact with the Bridge either. There's a designated shelter area in the conference room down on the next level. Why don't we all head down there and we can—"
"You just want to get us away from the Bridge!" Logan shouted.
Tasha shook her head and pleaded for patience.
"There's a communications terminal inside the conference room. We can try to reestablish communications from there," Tasha said.
It was equipped with easy access to rations and fresh water. There was room for people to sit down and relax. Tasha just wanted to lower the temperature of the metaphorical room before things boiled over.
"Magnuson? How long has your hand been bleeding?"
A tall, freckled Ensign lowered his phaser rifle to take stock of his injured hand. He shrugged.
"What happened?" Tasha asked.
"I was standing next a power conduit at my station when it blew. Threw me into the opposite wall," Magnuson answered.
"I'm sorry. I can clean that up for you. There's a med kit down in the conference room," Tasha said.
Magnuson nodded. Tasha knew she had won him over.
"I'll come too. I can help you. There's more wounded, and I have some field medic training," offered Ensign Halby.
Two down. Tasha thought.
Unfortunately, there was no way for Ensigns Cevallos and Phillips to sneak away without the crowd taking notice. Though she commanded the attention of the crowd, Tasha hadn't managed to pull it away from the access point.
There were close enough to hear the bulkhead slam shut—and took notice.
"What was that?"
Logan pushed his way toward the Bridge access.
"Move," he barked, shoving Ensign Phillips aside.
Logan angrily input his command authorisation code. Nothing happened. A murmur of concern went around the room.
"What's that blinking light mean?"
"Why is it red?"
"Are we locked out?"
Logan turned and glared at Tasha.
"You did this," he sneered.
He knew in an instant that she had sealed the bulkhead. It terminated any and all access—including Logan's.
Tasha braced herself for the fallout. Phillips and Cevallos weren't able to escape. People were crowded in the corridor. And there were far too many phasers for Tasha's liking.
But at least they couldn't get to the Bridge.
"If you will all follow me down to the conference room—"
"She's cut us off from Picard! This is a trap!" Logan shouted.
There was no sense in arguing with someone so paranoid. Tasha lunged for her phaser just as the crowd scrambled. Some of them reached for their own phasers. Others raced for the nearest Jefferies tube or lift. Many more were caught in the middle.
From opposite sides of the corridor, Logan and Tasha found themselves taking aim.
"Drop it," Tasha ordered.
"You first," Logan snarled.
There was no chance of Tasha dropping her phaser. Not now.
"Once everyone has cleared out, I'll gladly put this down. You and I can do it together," Tasha said.
Logan scoffed.
"You expect us to trust you? Now? Clearly, you're still able to communicate with the Bridge. That's why they sealed this bulkhead," Logan theorised.
Tasha watched in horror as the crowd murmured in agreement. They bought right into Logan's wild theory.
"You've lied to us. And so did Picard! He's lied to the whole damn ship about our mission here," Logan went on.
Logan was one of the crew on the mission to Lantera. They weren't told all the details—just enough to make an informed decision about volunteering.
"Picard brought us here for a secret mission," Logan said.
"Commander. You don't want to do this. Think carefully," Tasha urged.
"I am! I'm thinking about the lives of everyone on this ship!" Logan insisted.
Tasha wasn't angry. She pitied him.
"I know that you think you're doing what's right, but you are putting everyone on this ship in danger," Tasha pleaded. "There is no need for anyone to get hurt."
Logan lowered his phaser rifle and stepped forward, presenting his chest as an open target.
"And what are you going to do, Lieutenant? Shoot me to shut me up?"
"No one needs to get hurt," Tasha repeated slowly.
"I agree," Logan said as he took aim once more. "That's why I can't let you stand in the way of everyone. We just want to end this in a way that doesn't involve becoming a Romulan target."
Lieutenant Wu appeared at Tasha's side with her own phaser drawn. Tasha didn't have to speak aloud. The look on her face clearly read, 'you had orders.'
Wu wasn't about to abandon her commanding officer to the mob—not that there was much four Security officers could do against a crowd of twenty.
It was the worst possible time for the lights to go out.
USS Enterprise | Bridge
The gentle hum of the ship's systems grew silent. The lights flickered and went dark. Outside the ship, the external lights on the Enterprise faded.
Everyone stopped working.
It was relief to finally have silence after listening to Admiral Quinn's message loop for so long. It was like those first blissful moments of peace following a Red Alert.
Riker scanned the room as his eyes adjusted to the dark. They didn't even have emergency lighting.
"Helm control?"
Jae got up from Operations and felt her way over to the Helm. The console was dark too.
"Nothing," she answered a moment later.
Navigation was not operational. The whole system was down.
"Sound off," Riker ordered.
"Tactical's gone offline," Solis answered.
"The Conn too. In fact, all the systems back here are down," Hawk reported.
Jae had moved back to the Operations console. When it worked, she could do more from there than the Helm.
"We're dead in the water, sir. All systems are down. Main computer is offline," Jae announced.
Riker moved forward, feeling his way along the wall until he reached what he thought was the control panel. He felt for the outline. Then, his fingers found the handle.
It snapped open harder than intended.
"What are you doing?" Solis asked.
"We need to know what's happening," Riker said.
With the bulkhead down, he couldn't even send someone on the long journey down to Engineering in person.
"If we're falling out of orbit, we need to know. We could at least still activate the emergency manual alert," Riker explained as he ripped off the panel.
"Too many people are trapped! They'll never make it!" Solis argued.
Riker grunted as pulled off the last of the casing.
"Some of them might," he said, breathing hard.
It was tough work without the assistance of the automated system. Jae was at his side in a flash to help with the heavy manual wheel-style crank.
"On three," Riker said.
Together, they started to shift open the bulkhead that covered the physical view window at the front of the Bridge. Normally, Captain Picard kept this covered in favour of the holographic viewscreen.
"Hawk. Solis. Get started on opening the emergency manual alert system in case we need to use it," Riker ordered.
"Sir—"
"I know. I know. It won't save everyone," Riker grunted as he and Jae continued to turn the wheel.
"Sir," Solis said, attempting to draw his attention once again.
"It's not perfect. I'd like to save everyone. But if we can't do that, we're going to save as many people as we can," Riker argued.
They almost had the bulkhead open.
"But, SIR!" Solis protested.
Riker paused. He could barely see the back of the Bridge in the dark. Riker was sick of Lieutenant Solis's attitude. He was about to pop off at her when Hawk interjected.
"Commander! Dead ahead!" Hawk shouted.
Riker turned and staggered at the sight of the Romulan Warbird as it decloaked right in front of the Enterprise.
The timing was all a little too convenient for Riker's taste.
Over on the Bridge of her ship, Subcommander Taris eyed the Enterprise with suspicion.
The ship looked derelict. Not even the running lights were on. She simply floated adrift in space like a ghost ship.
"Hail them," Taris ordered.
The Uhlan at the Conn attempted to raise the Enterprise on a standard Federation channel. There was no response.
"Try again," Taris barked.
The Romulans had managed to recover some fragments of the Yamato computer. It was obvious they had discovered Iconian technology down on the planet's surface—and that it was likely the cause of that ship's demise.
Taris had orders to stand down until reinforcements arrived. She couldn't destroy them. And she had strict orders not to allow the Enterprise to evade capture.
But whatever Iconian technology the Federation had tampered with on the surface was now plaguing Taris's warbird.
She wanted to know what the Yamato had meddled with, and any information shared with the Enterprise before her destruction.
"I can't hail them. There's no response," the Uhlan said.
Taris grumbled as she rapped her nails on the armrest. There had been no word from Tomalak or the reinforcements.
"Scan the ship. I want a full report," Taris ordered. "And contact Centurion Glabius. Have him prepare a strike team."
Iconia
Worf and Data made their way along in the dark. It was slow going given Data's injuries and his considerable weight. Data was heavy even for Worf.
Without warning, Data staggered.
Worf wasn't prepared and struggled to keep Data upright. They stumbled into the doorframe.
"Sir?" Worf asked, concerned.
Data did not immediately respond. His eyebrows shot up. His eyes went wide, the gold of his irises nearly gone, dwarfed by the black of his dilated pupils as Data's optical receptors adapted to the low light.
It was just one more detail old Soong had included to make Data as humanlike as possible.
Worf feared the worst. He turned, fully expecting to be greeted by some new fresh horror in the Iconian labyrinth.
Instead, Worf was stunned by the sheer size and sight of the chamber before him. His eyes swept along the columns and high into the domed ceiling. Though separated aeons and thousands of lightyears, there was a distinctly familiar feeling to the architecture of classical antiquity Worf had seen on Earth.
He felt like he was twelve years old again, standing inside the Pantheon as his father raved about the complex process of its construction.
The domed ceiling sat at least a hundred and fifty metres above—taller even than the impressive chamber that housed the control centre.
The same looping, intricate language of the Iconian Empire was carved with precision into the great stone pillars along the walls, giving a glimpse into the crystalline structure beneath. Dazzling shades of heliotrope and amethyst danced on the walls in a way that gave the illusion of being underwater.
"It is just like before," Worf said in awe.
"Another door," Data breathed.
The Iconian doorway they had discovered in amongst the remains of an ancient asteroid was not the last of its kind.
As Data had theorised, a network remained—and now they were looking right at it.
The doorway shimmered, changing from one location to the next.
Data studied the image with great curiosity. It was still hard to wrap his positronic mind around the fact he was staring through a portal to another world.
The Iconian doorway was massive—nearly as tall as the dome itself. But even with such a grand view, it was difficult to get a full picture of the landscape.
"If the Enterprise truly is gone, we could use this to escape," Data suggested.
"To where?" Worf asked.
The planet before them looked as desolate and barren as the ruins of Iconia itself. Data had no frame of reference to try and match those ruins with his knowledge of contemporary stellar cartography charts.
By all accounts, the Iconians had travelled further than anyone in history. Their experience and starcharts overshadowed Data's comprehension of the known universe.
"We could wind up tens of thousands of lightyears from Federation space," Data cautioned. "Our position here is untenable, but—"
He trailed off. The alternative was unthinkable.
Data and Worf had made choice to follow Captain Picard knowing that it was probably a one-way trip. But the children from the Yamato were counting on them.
Data and Worf watched as the doorway shimmered again, changing to a new scene. Once more, the doorway on the other end led to ruins.
"It seems to be cycling in intervals. Three minutes and nineteen seconds," Data observed.
"That will not be sufficient time to evacuate the children," Worf pointed out.
They couldn't risk sending half of the off to one location on their own. So far, they hadn't seen any repeat connections.
"There is no way of knowing how many possible destinations are in the cycle. The Iconian doorway network is vast. There could be thousands," Data said.
Data's brow furrowed as studied the intricate carvings surrounding the door. Data's understanding of Iconian language and technology had vastly increased since his last encounter with the legendary doorway system.
Worf watched as an idea began to form in Data's mind.
"Commander?" Worf prompted.
"If I could identify the direction of the cycle, perhaps I could determine a way 'dial it in,'" Data theorised.
The door they had encountered before operated on an interval of thirty-eight-minute windows between the asteroid where it was discovered and the frozen planet Data & Geordi travelled to.
That indicated that there were either different networks or ways to adjust the network.
Data's face fell.
"I have yet to recognise a single point of reference—and I would require several to accurately understand the pattern," Data said.
"How can I assist?" Worf asked.
Data hesitated. His mind spiralled as he considered the odds. It was difficult for Data to concentrate. One equation sparked another, one conceivable outcome led him to dozens of unsavoury possibilities.
"Sir," Worf said.
"Accounting for stellar drift—"
"Data," Worf insisted, directing Data's attention ahead. "Look! It's the Enterprise."
Indeed, the image before them displayed a doorway right to the back of the Bridge of the Enterprise. Lieutenant Hawk was at the communications array. Over at Tactical, Lieutenant Solis looked worried. They seemed completely unaware of Data and Worf's presence on the other side of the door.
It was their first confirmation the Enterprise survived.
Tasha is alive.
Data was hit with a rush of relief (and fresh concern).
"They are still up there," Worf said, feeling a renewed sense of hope.
"But the ship is in distress. See? The consoles are offline," Data said, noticing the dark screens.
They weren't able to glean any further information. The doorway shimmered and moved away from the Enterprise as the cycle continued. Once again, they were graced with an image of ruins.
Worf grumbled. Data gasped. He blinked rapidly.
"I know this," he said.
Data blinked rapidly. His eyes flitted back and forth as he tried to comprehend how it was possible.
"The image we are viewing is an Iconian archaeological site. It has been carefully surveyed for centuries in search of a doorway. One has never been recovered," Data explained.
He didn't know how it was possible.
"Well, there's no doorway on the back of the Bridge," Worf reminded him.
"Indeed. This network must function in a different way than I initially theorised," Data admitted.
He didn't get a chance to dwell on that thought.
"Commander Data? Lieutenant Worf?"
The voice Captain Picard filled the chamber—only it hadn't come from their communicators.
"If you can hear this, look for a crystalline orb-like device along the wall. It could be near a panel or a door," Picard advised.
"Go," Data advised.
Worf carefully left Data to lean against the wall. Picard's message repeated as Worf surveyed the area.
"Here! Over here!"
Worf rushed back to assist Data over to the communicator. Data was able to quickly access their end of the device.
"Captain?" Worf asked.
"It's good to hear your voice, Mr Worf. We were just about ready to give up," Picard confessed. "It would seem our reboot of the system brought a number of previously disengaged systems back online."
That included the Iconian communications array.
"The systems were likely disabled when this facility was abandoned," Data said.
"Data, are you alright?" Picard asked.
"I will function sufficiently to complete our mission," Data answered.
It didn't offer many clues to Picard about Data's condition.
"Captain, I believe we may have found a way out of here," Data said.
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"Excellent, Mr Data! Where are you? We'll come to you," Picard said.
"No, sir. I'm afraid we will need to return to the control centre first," Data replied.
He turned to Worf and apologised for being a burden.
"Sir, I will carry you back and forth as many times as it takes," Worf replied with a rare smile.
Worf slipped his arm under Data's shoulder to support him.
"We are on our way, Captain," Worf advised.