Author's Note: I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to finally drop this instalment. I've been sitting on this story for so long.
Yes, there are our zippers in this universe. I know, I know. They aren't supposed to. But zippers offer a lot of options re: practicality, comprehension, and, frankly, options when it comes to writing.
Zippers in Trek are a hill I will die on.
The title of this chapter is also taken from the Newburgh Address.
Our roadmap has changed a bit with my decision to go back to shorter (10k-ish) chapters.
This chapter wraps up the business in the Neutral Zone as the Enterprise and the Thomas Paine prepare to return and deal with Starfleet.
After that, we've got a fun two-parter reprieve that I've been itching to drop for ages.
We're moving to the final part of the Conspiracy arc. From there, we don't have far to go before we'll be at the end of this first story.
During my long absence, I've been working hard to get the sequel, The Crucible ready to go as I don't want to leave you hanging. I set a goal to finish this fic this year and I firmly intend to finish it!
Please see the end for additional notes.
As always, thank you for your patience & support.
Here's our amended roadmap:
If Necessary, Alone: The Enterprise prepares to return to Federation space where Admiral Aaron and his fleet are waiting. While the crew recovers, Jean-Luc weighs a heavy choice
A Night at Ten Forward: Darkness looms as the Enterprise traverses the Neutral Zone, once a suffocating atmosphere. But for one night only, it becomes an escape where love and laughter rule the day. No promises on "Night Bird."
Ink Spots: As morning approaches, so does the border of the Neutral Zone. The team decide to face the music and dance as they cling to their stolen evening (and each other) for they will not go gently into the night.
The door to Captain's private quarters slid open. Jean-Luc slipped inside from his Ready Room.
Geordi was still next to Data, speaking softly. Even though Data was deactivated, Geordi felt better explaining every step as if they were simply down in Engineering during a routine systems check-up.
"Okay, Data. I'm almost finished with your sub processors. I'm going to move into your secondary engrams next," Geordi said.
Jean-Luc simply stood in silence and gave them space.
Just then, Tasha stirred and gagged. Jean-Luc dashed over and held her head as she hurled, spewing nothing more than stomach acid and saliva into a bowl Beverly had provided.
"Sir?" she asked in a hazy voice.
"Easy," Picard replied as he guided her back to the chair.
Jean-Luc returned a moment later with a fresh towel and glass of water.
"Small sips," he instructed, feeding a metal straw into Tasha's mouth.
Tasha was grateful to finally taste something that wasn't her own vomit.
"What happened?" she rasped.
"You're dehydrated. Severely so," Picard answered.
Tasha shook her head wearily.
"Data," she managed to ask.
She could see he was on the floor. Unmoving. Out of the corner of her eye, Tasha spied Data's detached arm atop the table.
"Data?" she repeated.
"Mr La Forge is looking after him," Picard said.
He had no other information to offer.
Geordi sat back on his knees.
"Hey," he said, smiling at Tasha. "Good to see you're awake."
Tasha was starting to come around, but she wasn't sure she was glad to be awake. She felt like hell.
With the Captain's help, Tasha was able to sit up.
"Geordi, please. Data?" Tasha asked.
There was no putting her off.
"Data's system is designed to routinely check and clean any damaged portions of his positronic matrix," Geordi said.
It was like an android immune system.
"The log indicates that his system detected a corrupted engram," Geordi went on.
"Then Data's system purged it? Wiped it clean like you did with the ship's computer?" Picard asked.
Geordi shook his head.
"No, Captain. Before Data was deactivated, he initiated a complex protection system to try and preserve memory," Geordi said.
"What are you saying, Mr La Forge?" Picard asked.
They knew from Data's experience with the Edo probe a year prior that Data's neural net had a 'keep' of sorts. It housed Data's primary functioning and core memories—including all of his memories of Tasha.
"That system lockout activated to protect Data's mind. But after that sealed, Data tried to preserve as much memory as possible," Geordi said.
Geordi couldn't be certain what Data was trying to save—only that Data had taken great care to stop his system from purging it.
"The information was transferred from engram to engram almost like Data was trying stay ahead of the purge," Geordi explained. "Whatever it was, it must have been pretty damn important."
A chill settled in Captain Picard as he recalled Data's ominous warning.
Do not follow.
"Captain?" Tasha asked.
She could read the concerned look on his face.
"Before he was… well, before Data collapsed, he was trying to warn me of something," Jean-Luc said.
Picard was certain.
"Of what?" Geordi asked.
"I don't know," Picard admitted.
Data had been nonsensical. Disjointed. For all Picard knew, Data may have tapped into a corrupted Iconian file.
"Captain, I won't be able to tell you anything more until I reactivate Data. With your permission, I'd like to try," Geordi said.
Geordi cautioned there was still a possibility that Data's system had been infected by an Iconian virus and that he could pose a threat.
Captain Picard retrieved a phaser from his office and turned it to the highest stun setting. Then he nodded to Geordi.
"Alright, Mr La Forge," Picard said.
Geordi slipped his hand under Data and found his activation switch. He clicked it into place.
Nothing happened.
As the seconds ticked by, everyone grew increasingly agitated.
Geordi reached for his tablet. He'd kept a connection to Data's neural net with the intention of running more tests after Data was back online.
"I'm registering brain function, but it's minimal," Geordi said.
Tasha stared in silence at the screen of Geordi's tablet as she watched for any sign of activity. It barely registered a blip.
"His power cell is functioning. It's faint, but it is there," Geordi added.
Geordi frowned as he studied the readings.
"It could be that his neural pathways need time to sort themselves out."
Geordi was grasping for an explanation. He had nothing to go on.
"Captain, I'd like to get Data down to the lab. I can run more tests there to rule out any neural damage. And we'll be able to begin reattaching his arm," Geordi said.
Suddenly, Data sat up.
"May I help?" he asked.
Data glanced around the room.
"Help," he repeated.
"Help?" Geordi asked.
"Help. Aid. Assistance. Boost. Cooperation. Collaboration—"
Tasha, Geordi, and Captain Picard waited in anticipation as Data rattled off a list of synonyms. They knew it was likely part of the process of rebooting.
Captain Picard knelt down next to Data.
"Data, what do you remember?" he asked.
Data's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Data, we were on Iconia. You were looking through the computer system," Picard prompted, hoping to jog Data's memory.
"We were on Iconia," Data echoed.
He frowned and shook his head.
"We were on the Enterprise. We are leaving soon. When I—"
Data paused.
"When I return. When I—"
Data cocked his head to the side. It took him a moment to find the words.
"Methinketh the time longer since your departing," Data recited.
His eyes danced back and forth as he searched for the next phrase.
"But now that I am coming toward you, my pain has been half released. I am right well comforted."
"Data?" Tasha asked.
He turned at the sound of her voice and sighed.
"Wishing myself, especially an evening, in my sweetheart's arms whose pretty duckies I trust shortly to kiss," Data concluded.
His face broke out in a smile.
Tasha blinked.
"What?" she asked.
"Henry VIII," Picard clarified.
Before everything had devolved, Jean-Luc and Data had been reading a biography of Henry VIII. They usually got together once a week to play chess and discuss a book over a glass of wine.
Captain Picard followed Data's line of sight to Tasha. He recognised that look.
"I believe he is trying to tell you that he is glad to see you," Picard translated.
Peaked, exhausted, and unkept she was the loveliest thing Data had ever seen. He didn't mind one bit that the front of Tasha's uniform was covered in vomit or the bits that still clung to her chin.
In fact, Tasha was almost taken aback by the forwardness of Data's gaze.
"Hey baby, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" he growled.
Tasha blanched.
Her shoulders jerked.
Before she could utter a word, she fell forward and hurled into the bucket next to the chair.
Data whipped his around and wiggled his eyebrows at Geordi.
"Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover," Data crooned.
"Data? Are you having trouble with your speech?" Geordi asked.
Data beamed.
"Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time. I feel aliii… iiii… iiii… iiiiiiiiive! And the world…."
Geordi glanced up at Captain Picard.
"I think the answer is 'yes,' Mr La Forge," Picard said.
Data continued, unabated as tried to communicate that he was, on the whole, feeling alright. Data also tried to convey that though his neural pathways needed time to unscramble, he could still tap into his vast database of information to reference in order to express himself.
"I am a satellite. I am out of control. I am a sex machine ready to reload like an atom bomb about a whoa… whoa… whoa… whoa… whoa… explode!"
Data fell back onto the carpet with a heavy sigh.
It was the first time Picard had cracked a smile since returning to the ship.
"Data?" Tasha asked.
He turned his head and flashed her a warm smile.
"In my sweetheart's arms whose pretty duckies I trust shortly to kiss," Data repeated.
Geordi glanced over at Captain Picard.
"Duckies?" Geordi asked.
"Don't ask," Picard said.
Lieutenant Adams stopped by to administer a hypospray to help Tasha with the nausea. After a few scans, he advised Tasha was going to be alright.
Tasha was in no condition to return to duty, but she wasn't sick enough to warrant space in the already strained Sickbay.
"She just needs to rest, Captain. With your permission I'd like to send her quarters provided there's someone there with her," said Lieutenant Adams.
He glanced over at Commander Data, who was now seated at Tasha's side. Data's arm was still detached from his body.
"Is Commander Data alright?" Adams inquired.
"For the time being, I'd like Lieutenant Yar to remain in my quarters. I'll keep an eye on her. You have my word," Picard said.
He wasn't quite ready to send her off with Data yet. It wasn't that he didn't trust Data's intentions.
Data still struggled to communicate as his neural pathways worked to reestablish themselves. If an emergency were to arise, Data may not be capable of clearly communicating a request for help.
"Understood, Captain. She'll need another hypospray in a few hours. Be sure she stays hydrated. We'll have someone stop by later to check in," Adams said.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Picard replied.
Just then, Jean-Luc's combadge pinged.
"Captain?"
It was Commander Riker.
"Go ahead, Number One."
"Captain, we're just conducting our sweep on Deck 8," Riker began.
Picard braced himself for bad news.
"Sir, we've discovered a number of bodies. Doctor Halor thinks they asphyxiated. I've got Pak going through the logs right now. We may be looking at an environmental failure," Riker reported.
"How many?" Picard asked reluctantly.
"So far, six," Riker answered before adding, "but it's early. We've only searched a few quarters."
They had managed to avoid most of the same pitfalls the Yamato suffered. Nevertheless, Jean-Luc knew it was only a matter of time before they stumbled upon some kind of fallout from the malfunctions.
He was a fool to think they could get by unscathed.
"Keep me apprised," Picard said.
"Captain, Doctor Crusher has been asking about Deck 8. We haven't cleared the Crusher family quarters yet, but I thought it best to contact you—"
"Understood," Picard responded.
He didn't need to hear anymore. Jean-Luc ordered Lieutenant Musiker to remain behind and keep an eye on Data and Tasha.
"I'm on my way," Picard said.
Raffi snuck a discreet glance at the couple over in the chair by the window. She was struck by how human Data was in his interactions with Tasha. He seemed so… natural.
They were completely lost in their own world.
Data was still having difficulty communicating, particularly with his audio output.
Anytime Data spoke he drew from experience and collective knowledge to try and express his feelings and opinions. Given his vast brainpower, it was a challenge to sort at times.
In an effort to conserve energy for repairs, his neural net relied on using references rather than creating new statements.
"I thought I'd lost you," Tasha said.
Data smiled as he stroked her hair.
"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom," Data said.
Tasha clutched the side of his uniform. Data's bioplast had torn above his eye. Dried golden biofluid was caked on his face from where it had leaked out of the wound.
"You're hurt," she said, noting his arm.
"I hurt myself today," Data sang.
Tasha nodded gravely. Her heart ached for Data and his injuries.
"Oh, Data. I was so worried about you," Tasha said.
Data brought Tasha's hand to his lips.
"You were always on my mind," Data replied softly.
Beverly's heart leapt to her throat when Jean-Luc stepped off the lift.
He shot her warning look, advising that he had no information to offer.
"Then why are you here?" Beverly asked.
She was on edge. It felt all too familiar to the day Jean-Luc had been dispatched to deliver Jack Crusher's body.
Commander Riker had ordered Beverly to wait until they cleared the area.
"Walk with me, Doctor," Jean-Luc said, signalling for her to follow him down past the guards posted in the corridor.
Beverly bit her tongue until they were clear.
"What happened?" she demanded in a hushed voice.
Picard played it cool. He didn't want to alarm her. He prayed Wesley was alright.
"Riker radioed you. Don't play coy. Something's wrong," Beverly said.
She could read him like a book.
"I wanted to come—"
"Oh my god," Beverly said as she clasped her hand over her mouth.
Jean-Luc put his hand on her shoulder.
"Beverly, truly. I don't know if anything has happened. I am here to help you look in your quarters because I want you to get back to work as soon as possible," Picard said, pretending to be the martinet they both knew was an act.
On their way down the corridor toward the Crusher quarters, Picard caught Riker's eye as they passed the quarters of Lieutenant Inman.
"Captain," Riker said with a small nod.
Picard didn't have to ask.
One foot in front of the other. Don't look back. Jean-Luc told himself.
He pleaded with the universe for Wesley Crusher to be alive and well. He didn't want to think what it would do to Beverly to lose her son.
Beverly's pace quickened as she approached her door.
It wasn't sealed.
Beverly paused.
"He sealed it. Why isn't it sealed?" she asked aloud.
Beverly rushed inside.
"Wesley? Wesley?" she called out.
Beverly marched into his room and found it was empty. She checked her own bedroom next, then the loo.
"WES?" she hollered.
Jean-Luc stood in the doorway.
Wesley's communicator was on the floor.
A small, terrified noise escaped from Beverly's throat.
"We'll find him," Jean-Luc promised.
Beverly was in disbelief. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Wesley combadge.
"Why is it on the floor? Why isn't he here?"
"We'll find him. We're conducting a search of the whole ship," Picard assured her.
Beverly shook her head. She barely registered Picard's statement.
"Why isn't he here? He's supposed to be here," Beverly repeated.
Jean-Luc gripped her shoulders, forcing Beverly to look at him.
"We will find him, Beverly," Picard said.
He pulled Beverly into his arms. He could feel her heart rate had shot up. Beverly had kept her composure all day.
Now, it all spilled out.
"Why isn't he here?" she sobbed.
"It's alright. We'll find him," Jean-Luc assured her.
Beverly broke down. It was the first chance she'd had in days to process her emotions.
"I-I-I can't s-stop," she wept.
Jean-Luc wasn't sure what to say. He needed a moment with someone alone just as much as she did. He too felt overwhelmed and was afraid he might break down as well.
Instead of words, Jean-Luc tightened his embrace.
After a moment, Captain Picard pulled back just far enough to look at Beverly. He cupped her face.
"Beverly," he whispered.
A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill over.
"I'm right here. I'm right with you. I'll stay. I will find him for you," Picard promised.
"He's just a boy," she sniffled. "He's… he's just a boy. He's… he's—"
She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut.
"I have to get b-back to—"
Jean-Luc shushed her.
"We'll find him," he repeated as he stroked her hair.
He pulled Beverly close. She buried her face against his shoulder. Jean-Luc would search for Wesley. But for the moment, he knew he needed to be there for Beverly.
On the other end of Deck 8, Riker and his team continued their search. They had searched half the level and had already discovered another nine bodies.
Fortunately, most quarters were abandoned. Riker hoped that meant people were in a designated safe area.
Suddenly, there was a shout from down the corridor.
"Commander! Down here!"
Riker gestured for two of his team to follow. With great reluctance, he marched down the corridor and braced himself for more bodies.
Ensign Laasko was just outside the crew quarters at the end of the corridor in that section.
"How many?" Riker asked.
He had to be blunt. He couldn't personalise. He would never make it through the rest of the search if he stopped to grieve the loss of his colleagues.
"I'm not sure how many are inside. You better get Doctor Crusher. These people need medical attention," Laasko advised.
Riker stepped inside and found the room was crowded. Some were still unconscious. Many were sick from oxygen deprivation. No one was in a condition to move.
"The door was sealed. We had to pry it open," Laasko said.
Riker tapped his communicator and radioed for Crusher to get down there immediately. Then he called for backup from one of the Medical teams.
"I estimate there must be thirty, maybe forty, people packed in here," Riker said.
"We're on our way."
Will scanned the room, stepping over bodies as he tried to get a quick count of those present.
He recognised the Pok family—Lieutenant Pok, her husband, and their two children.
Jacob Draper, a civilian chemist, was clinging to life next to Lieutenant Commander Welke from the Oceanography department.
And then Riker saw him, slumped over near the computer terminal.
Will rushed over, relieved when he felt a pulse.
"Hang in there, wonderboy," Will said.
Beverly didn't care about propriety or setting an example. She raced down the corridor and rushed into the room.
She practically shoved Commander Riker out of the way as she whipped out her tricorder.
"Carbon monoxide poisoning. The scrubbers must have struggled to keep up," Beverly said. "We need to get these people to Sickbay immediately."
Jean-Luc watched the scene unfold from the doorway.
He paged the medical team and advised they had a priority situation on Deck 8.
The medical team arrived in short order and began to carry out the people on stretchers.
Beverly felt a tug on her uniform.
"Doctor—"
It was Commander Dalton, the head of the Physics lab.
"Shhh. Try not to speak," she instructed.
"He saved us," Dalton said.
His eyes darted to Wesley.
"He saved all of us."
Two orderlies moved in and lifted Dalton's stretcher.
"Be sure to start them on oxygen. There are extra breathers in the supply locker," Beverly instructed.
She watched as two crewmen loaded Wesley onto one of the stretchers and outfitted him with a breathing apparatus.
On her way past the door, Beverly caught Jean-Luc's eye.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Captain Picard turned to head back to the Bridge. Just before stepping on the lift, his communication pinged with a message from Lieutenant Hawk.
"We've located an M-class planet that meets your specifications, Captain. Shall I lay in a course?"
"Warp 5. I'm on my way to the Bridge now," Picard responded.
Captain Picard folded his hands behind his back as he paced the length of the Brig. The incarcerated Romulans listened as Captain Picard laid out his offer.
"And so, we will beam you down to the surface. From there, I will leave it up to you. I cannot make that choice on your behalf," Picard said.
Some of the Romulans were stunned.
"Why?" demanded a Centurion.
Jean-Luc stepped up to the edge of the cell.
"Because while I may disagree with your way of life, I respect your right to choose," Picard said.
The Centurion nodded. He had not expected any respect from a Starfleet officer.
"Thank you," the Centurion replied in earnest.
"And should anyone wish to remain on the Enterprise as a prisoner, I will permit you to do so," Picard informed them.
A general grumble of disagreement went around the room.
Jean-Luc was shocked by the young age of many of the Romulan soldiers and their fervent desire to die by their own hand rather than accept dishonour.
"We will arrive within the hour," Picard said.
He scanned the faces in the crowd. One Romulan looked as if he desperately wished to speak with the Captain.
Picard could read the room.
He returned a moment later with two Security guards.
Make a show of it. Picard had ordered.
"You," Picard said, pointing at the man. "You will come with me to an interrogation room. I have some questions."
On his way out, Subcommander Taris requested Picard's attention.
She had one final ask.
"Beam me somewhere private? So that I may pray and confess to the Divines before I die an honourable death?"
Jean-Luc replied with a stiff nod.
As soon as he was out in the corridor with the Romulan that had caught his eye, the man dropped to his knees.
"I wish to claim asylum," he pleaded.
Picard eyed the man carefully.
"I… I don't… that is to say that I'm not… erm… I don't erm—"
The man's voice trembled. He was terrified.
"I don't believe in the—"
He dropped his voice to a whisper, fearing even in the corridor that he might be overhead.
"Please don't send me back with them," he begged.
"Take him to one of the conference rooms. Deactivate the computer. Keep him under guard," Picard ordered.
Jean-Luc was in his Ready Room monitoring the long-range sensors on his computer.
Lieutenant Musiker had moved to the Observation Lounge to continue her work with Captain Rixx via subspace while the Enterprise completed her final mission in Romulan space.
They had put just their metaphorical 'toe' back over the border for a brief stop at Buutan IX, the planet selected by Mr Hawk as an appropriate destination.
"We're ready to beam the prisoners down, sir," Hawk said.
"And the beacon is functional? They understand how to use it?" Picard asked.
"Yes, sir," Hawk answered.
"And the supplies?" Picard inquired.
His mother would say he was intentionally seeking to delay a task he did not wish to complete.
"Standing by. A three-month supply," Hawk said.
Jean-Luc took a breath.
"Alright, beam them down," Picard answered.
After a minute, Hawk advised the task was complete and asked if they should set a course back to rendezvous with the Thomas Paine.
"In a moment," Picard said.
He wanted to see if they would activate the beacon.
Picard got up from his chair and strolled over to the window. He watched the clouds on the planet below.
Come on, damn you.
The minutes ticked by. There was no sound save for the occasional gurgling from Livington's tank.
He was tempted to leave a probe behind so that he could check back. He wanted to believe the Romulans were waiting to activate the beacon until the Enterprise was gone.
Or maybe, just maybe they had no intentions of activating at all?
Perhaps the Romulans viewed it as a chance to escape their own Empire and leave freely on a planet where they were unlikely to encounter the Romulan fleet.
There had long been rumours of stray Romulans that survived battles and limped their way across space in shuttles to carve out a new existence hidden in the Neutral Zone and the planets that dotted the border.
The communications system chimed.
"Sir, the Thomas Paine has requested our ETA," Hawk reported.
"Set a course back to the Neutral Zone. Advise them we're en route," Picard replied.
He waited next to the window and watched as the planet disappeared, replaced instead by the inky expanse of space.
Jean-Luc sat back down behind his desk.
The day wasn't over yet. Lieutenant Commander Logan was still cooling his heels in the loo. There was a conference room full of mutineers and a Romulan waiting patiently in another. Picard would have to make a decision soon about what to do with him.
Though functional, the Enterprise herself had taken quite a beating and would need repairs.
Casualties were high.
Fortunately, deaths remained low considering they'd been through a battle and that Iconian virus had turned the ship itself against its occupants.
Jean-Luc was still waiting to speak with Rachel Cohn before he made his announcement. She had been persistent, but polite, in her quest for information and fervent desire to honour her husband's memory.
He owed her an explanation, a full account of Uriah Cohn's bravery and sacrifice.
It was of the unfortunate duties of a starship captain.
Picard still needed to log the events in the ship's computer.
No one will believe this. Jean-Luc thought.
They had found and escaped from Iconia in the nick of time.
Beverly had found Wesley alive.
Data survived. He'd taken heavy damage. His arm remained detached, and his mind was still a jumble of information—but he was alive.
Tasha wasn't infected with a parasite. Deanna was expected to make a full recovery.
Commander Riker had held the Enterprise together in spite of a mutiny in the midst of a crisis and all without comms, sensors, or shields.
Geordi & Chief O'Brien's quick thinking had saved the ship.
And somehow, against all odds, they'd managed to reunite one family. Lieutenant Aarden, her husband, and their pending arrival were all safe and snug in the VIP guest quarters.
It had been a rotten day. Hell, it had been a downright awful week.
Picard's eyes fell on the photograph of his old chums—including Donald Varley.
As Jean-Luc took stock of his day, he realised that it was a miracle he could count so many victories in his ledger.
There was just one final thing to take care of.
"Easy," Worf said.
"You should be in bed," Beverly said in a stern voice.
"I'm fine," Tasha insisted.
She hated to be fussed over. She already felt foolish enough for hurling all over the Captain's private quarters.
"Tasha, I really think that—"
"I appreciate your concern, Doctor. Really, I do. But I need to be in this meeting," Tasha said, pushing back.
Beverly just shook her head as she watched Worf help Tasha trek the distance between the Captain's Ready Room and the Observation Lounge. She was grateful to have finally cleaned her face and brushed her teeth. She even had a new uniform courtesy of a spare from Captain Picard.
Data was just a step behind carrying his detached arm.
"You never listen," Beverly said, chastising Tasha.
"Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets," Data said.
Data was still limited to relying on quotes and song lyrics from his memory bank to express himself.
"You're dehydrated," Beverly said.
"I'm just a little parched," Tasha shot back as Worf helped ease her into a chair on the Observation Lounge.
"Thank you," Tasha said as Riker got her glass of orange juice from the replicator.
He felt awful for locking her up in the first place.
"Tasha—"
"It's okay," she assured him.
There were no hard feelings.
"You were faced with an impossible choice," Tasha acknowledged.
"You would have done better," Riker countered.
No one took his own mistakes harder than William T. Riker.
"Red is a good look on you," he said, noting the command uniform.
"I'm just borrowing it," Tasha replied.
Riker felt he owed Tasha answers for his choice.
"I am not laying blame on Deanna," he prefaced.
She was still in sondormada under supervision in one of the makeshift triage areas. Two additional Betazoid crew members had also slipped into sondormada. They were discovered during the search.
"Deanna sensed something in you. She thought you were hiding something," Will explained.
Tasha locked eyes with Data. He was across the table. They exchanged a look.
Should we?
Data's lip curled into a shy smile. Tasha blushed.
Without words, she knew exactly what Data was thinking.
"Erm… there's never really a good time…"
Tasha bit her lip.
Worf perked up, thrilled in anticipation of an announcement he suspected was to follow.
Tasha scanned the faces of her colleagues—her family—as she fumbled for the right words. There was no easy way to say that that they were leaving, that they wouldn't be with them to face Admiral Aaron and the might of his Fleet.
Tasha was a bundle of nerves. She was struck by a chilling thought.
Are we running away?
"I—"
Her mouth went dry.
Data was still struggling with his speech programme. Tasha could see he was searching to find the right words.
Without warning, Miles O'Brien burst into the room.
"You're all invited to a wedding!" O'Brien announced.
"Goin' to the chapel and we are gonna get married!" Data sang brightly.
At long last he'd found the most direct way to communicate what Tasha had struggled to say.
Only everyone assumed it was in response to O'Brien's announcement.
The room erupted in a cheer. Geordi pulled O'Brien into a warm embrace.
"Oh, Chief! Congratulations!" Beverly said.
Riker kissed him on the cheek.
"You lucky devil!"
Only Worf caught the knowing smile that passed between Data and Tasha. They didn't want to spoil the Chief's moment.
It will keep. Tasha thought.
"When's the big day?" Riker asked.
O'Brien ran a trembling hand back through his curls. He'd just come from their quarters after checking on Keiko.
"As soon as possible. I don't care if we do it on the cargo bay! We're not going to wait," O'Brien shared.
"Do what on the cargo bay?" Picard asked as he swept into the room.
O'Brien froze.
Jean-Luc scanned the faces of his officers for an answer.
"Yes, Mr O'Brien?" Picard prompted.
Miles took a breath.
"Well, there's no good way to say this, sir. And I know that the timing could be better but—"
O'Brien wrung his hands. Words failed him.
"Chief, please," Picard urged.
Riker nudged O'Brien lightly with his shoulder.
"Would you… erm—"
Miles cleared his throat and pulled himself up to his full height. He had no reason to feel ashamed.
"Would you marry me, sir?" O'Brien asked.
Picard's face soured. His eyes darted over to Beverly, suspecting she'd put O'Brien up to a prank.
"Keiko!" Miles clarified quickly. "Would you marry Keiko and me? Would you officiate our wedding?"
Jean-Luc's grimace faded. A large smile broke out on his face as he gripped O'Brien's hand.
"It would be my honour, Mr O'Brien," Picard said.
Captain Picard was positively chuffed.
Though he was happy to maintain his prickly reputation, Jean-Luc actually found great enjoyment in officiating marriages.
For a Captain, it was sheer joy to oversee celebrations rather than the solemn duty of funerals.
"We'll speak in my Ready Room after," Picard assured him.
"Thank you, sir," Miles replied.
With a small bit of much-needed levity out of the way, the team sat down for a serious briefing.
Picard glanced around the table.
They were exhausted. It had been far too long since any of the had slept, longer still since any of them had actually rested.
They were injured—and not just physically.
They'd been pushed beyond the mental and emotional expectations of their duties.
Commander Riker's back was in such bad shape that Beverly advised he would need physical therapy, possibly even surgery, after reinjury.
Riker had brushed off Beverly's concerns in his usual manner.
Sure, I'll go to PT—if we're still here next week.
The sacrifice of the crew was not limited to the officers in the room. Lieutenants Hawk and Jae had been on duty for more than twenty-four hours (and that after their time on Lantera).
Barclay, Gomez, and the crew in Engineering were run ragged. For days, they had worked around the clock, stopping only briefly to scarf a ration pack and for mandatory two-hour windows of sleep, often in the nearby bunks, before returning to work again.
The Medical team had been in the thick of it. Most were dead on their feet.
"I won't mince words. Our situation is dire," Picard said.
To Jean-Luc's astonishment, there were no complaints. No debate followed.
"We've got sixty-eight percent of the ship's systems back online. All critical systems have been restored and we're working to repair the damage from the battle," Geordi reported.
Beverly explained that the Thomas Paine had been able to issue replacements for some of the damaged equipment.
"Make no mistake, we're not out of the woods yet—but we're in a lot better shape than we were six hours ago," Beverly advised.
"We have found no individuals infected with the parasite," Worf added to everyone's great relief.
Worf's investigation had cleared the ship—including the Security team itself which made the process of recovery much easier.
"What do you need from us, Captain?" Riker asked.
Captain Picard sat back in his seat. He chuckled softly as he turned his attention to the window.
"One more distinguished proof," Picard pondered aloud.
At that very moment, Captain Rixx was having a similar discussion with his own senior staff aboard the Thomas Paine.
Jean-Luc folded his hands atop the table.
"Captain Rixx and I believe it is best to split up once we reach Federation space," Picard advised.
Captain Rixx was confident that Captain Lee Davies, the officer in command of Starbase 118, could be trusted.
Captain Rixx would dispatch a message notifying him that the Thomas Paine was going to try and make a break for Starbase 118 to try and raise a fleet against Admiral Aaron.
"Captain Rixx will then double back and continue to patrol the corridor along the Neutral Zone," Picard said.
"A ruse," Worf commented.
Jean-Luc nodded.
They hoped to convince Admiral Aaron to split his forces.
"Number One, you'll take the saucer section to Ravenna," Picard said.
He was going to separate the Enterprise too. There were more than one thousand people on board. Jean-Luc could not, in good conscience, put them in line of fire during his confrontation with Admiral Aaron.
"You will all accompany him," Picard sat.
At that, the table erupted.
Jean-Luc put up his hand to silence them.
"I won't hear any protest. Once you have docked and ensured the ship is clear, you will radio Starbase 173 and report that you commandeered the saucer section from me in an effort to comply," Picard instructed.
The crew were aghast.
"You will inform Starfleet that you managed to separate the ship and flee. Chief O'Brien, Mr Worf—please see to creating sufficient logs to back that claim," Picard continued.
Geordi opened his mouth to protest. Jean-Luc cut him.
"You will," he said in a sharp tone.
Jean-Luc spoke to all of them, but he caught Beverly's eye.
"You will tell them whatever you must, is that clear?" Picard asked.
No one answered.
"That is a direct order—do I make myself clear?" Picard demanded.
A grumble of 'aye, sir' and 'acknowledged' followed.
"With protest," Worf added.
"Lieutenant La Forge, I'll need your help down in Engineering," Picard said.
He did not elaborate.
"Commander Data, Lieutenant Yar. I have a special assignment for you. We'll speak later," Picard said.
His eyes fell on Lieutenant Musiker.
"Sir?" Raffi prompted.
She was the odd one of the group.
"You and I need to talk. I have an assignment for you as well—if you're up for it," Picard said.
"Captain," Beverly began.
"I've given you your orders and I expect you to follow them," Picard interjected.
Lastly, Captain Picard informed the crew that he was going to make a ship-wide announcement.
"I will inform the crew of the conspiracy. They have a right to know why we've cut them off for so long," Picard said.
He took a slow breath.
"It's time," Picard acknowledged.
It would take at least another full day of repairs and then hours to cross the Neutral Zone.
"And I am going to ask for one more day before we cross that border. I don't know the last time any of you slept and—"
Captain Picard himself was hit with a sudden wave of drowsiness.
He'd been numb for so long to his own needs that his body was ready to crash.
"I wish I could give you all more time. But I must ask you…"
Jean-Luc trailed off.
"For one more distinguished proof," Data said, quoting Captain Picard.
Picard managed a sad smile.
"Lieutenant Worf, I'd like you to take over for—"
"I'm fine, sir," Tasha cut in.
Before Beverly could chime in with her opinion, Tasha pleaded her case.
"I'm perfectly capable of putting out a rotation and delegating tasks," Tasha asserted.
Jean-Luc knew it was pointless to argue.
"Alright then, Mr Worf please assist Commander Data with his duties," Picard requested.
He ordered each of them to oversee a rotation schedule for their departments to ensure everyone got a proper rest while repairs continued.
"Get a meal in you. Get some sleep. I expect you back here in six hours."
With that, Captain Picard dismissed the team.
The mood on the ship was subdued—in part from Captain Picard's public announcement.
The shock of a Romulan conspiracy barely registered given all they had seen in the last few days.
Picard suspected it had not yet sunk in for most of the people aboard.
After all, Starfleet was a massive organisation.
It was hard to think that the structure, the very oversight could have fallen into Romulan control.
In some pockets of the ship, there were those that did not believe the conspiracy at all. They truly thought Captain Picard had cracked.
But at least he's dropping us at Ravenna, right?
They surmised if Captain Picard wanted to jet off on his own for some one-man, Don Quixote quest against Romulan infiltrators—so be it.
Their time as passengers to his ordeal was about to come to an end.
For others, Picard's announcement confirmed their worst fears. It explained the disappearances and mysterious shift in policy along the Neutral Zone.
The prospect of Ravenna provided more questions than answers.
What happens if they come for us next?
How long are we safe?
Is anywhere safe?
Captain Picard had no answers—aside from assuring each and every person on the Enterprise that he could not make any decision for them.
In his speech, he urged the crew to speak out. He preached compassion for those that could not or would not due to concerns for the safety of their families.
He assured the ship that he would do everything he could to spare them any fallout for his actions.
The Captain's pronouncement had left a foul taste in the senior officers' mouths.
Tasha, Data, and Worf had set up shop in the Security office. It seemed the best place to operate while they worked out a rotation.
Somehow, Data and Worf had found a way to converse in spite of Data's communication issues.
As Second Officer Data was responsible for a number of critical oversight functions. Data also oversaw the Sciences and Operations divisions—more than one hundred departments and subdivisions.
There were some semi-autonomous areas under that umbrella like Medical, Engineering, and Security.
Captain Picard and Commander Riker both had tremendous responsibility in their roles.
Yet it was Data that saw to most of the day-to-day business of the ship from the replicators that kept the ship fed to the garment reprocessors that ensured everyone had a clean duty uniform.
It was Data & team that kept the lights on.
"What about moving Grayson and H'tua to the beta rotation?" Worf suggested.
Data tapped the computer screen. His fingers danced across the surface as he rearranged the schedule, pulling the team from the Ethnology department to help with medical supply redistribution.
Data had pulled from many of his Sciences departments putting them to work as orderlies in Sickbay, distribution at ship's stores, and in the nursery.
The influx of children and additional work hours presented a unique strain on the ship's childcare system.
The door to the office slid open.
Lieutenant Wu, Ensign Cevallos, and Lieutenant Solis had returned to check-in.
"How are you feeling, Ensign?" Tasha asked.
"A bit stiff but much better. Thank you," Luis replied.
"We've completed our rounds and notified the crew of the new rotation," Wu advised.
"Good. You three are relieved of duty until your next shift. Get some rest," Tasha ordered.
Lieutenant Solis lingered.
"Sir?" Solis inquired.
"Hmm?" Tasha prompted, looking up from her computer.
"Why are we going to Ravenna?" Solis asked. "I mean… why aren't we going after the Romulans?"
"Captain's orders," Tasha replied, without elaboration.
Solis perked up.
"Are you going after them? Lieutenant, please. I want to fight," Solis pressed.
Tasha understood her position.
"The Romulans killed my family. We can't roll over let them take Starfleet! We have to do something!" Solis argued. "You can't tell me I'm the only person that feels this way!"
A look passed between Worf and Tasha.
"I want to speak with the Captain. I want to volunteer for whatever you're planning. Please," Solis pleaded.
"I'll tell the Captain you want to speak with him," Tasha said.
It was all she could promise.
Tasha didn't know what Captain Picard was planning—none of them did.
"For now, get some rest," Tasha said.
"Thank you," Lieutenant Solis said before departing.
Once they were alone, Worf paused his work. He ordered some herbal tea from the replicator and got a juice for Tasha.
"Mmm. Thanks," Tasha replied.
She took a small sip and then set the glass down on her desk.
"She is right, you know," Worf said.
Tasha fell unusually quiet. She reached for her glass again and took her time drinking in order to avoid answering Worf.
"I know you're planning to leave," Worf said suddenly.
Tasha choked on her juice.
Worf assured Tasha that he had said nothing to anyone—nor would he.
"I think you should go," Worf added.
Tasha was still reeling from the revelation that Worf was privy to her plans. She glanced at Data.
"Data did not reveal anything. I simply pieced it together," Worf acknowledged.
"I'm starting to think you've planted a listening device," Tasha said.
Worf smirked.
"I am a good detective."
"Clearly," Tasha replied.
"You should go," Worf repeated.
Their brief moment of banter had slipped away. The mood turned sombre once more.
"I understand why you're leaving," Worf assured them.
Though he didn't say anything, Worf assumed that Tasha had informed Captain Picard of her pregnancy.
"It is a wise decision," Worf continued. "You both must flee to ensure the Romulans do not capture Commander Data."
Data and Tasha had not even considered that yet.
"And the House of Mogh will live on through you," Worf went on.
He reached for Tasha's hand.
"You should go," Worf urged.
Data cocked his head to the side and frowned. Tasha recognised that look.
"Data, do you remember what happened before you went down to Iconia?" Tasha asked.
He shook his head in the negative.
His neural net was still a jumble. His memories from the Iconian planet and the hours before remained inaccessible.
"I should leave you two alone," Worf said. "Can you make it back to your quarters or would you like me to accompany you?"
They had concluded their work on the rotation and distributed the new schedule.
Data opened his mouth to speak. A garbled, mechanic sound followed.
Instead, Data tapped into this memory bank to activate an audio clip.
Who's gonna drive you home tonight?
"I think we can manage," Tasha said, holding his gaze.
Worf bid them both goodnight.
"Worf, wait."
Tasha's hand shot out and caught his arm.
"Commander Riker told me that you noticed Data's signature in the transporter beam, that you… you saved them. You saved him," Tasha said.
Worf squeezed her hand.
"I told you that I would bring Data home to you. On my honour," Worf said with a wry grin.
Tears pricked at the corners of Tasha's eyes.
"Thank you," she said.
Worf kissed her cheek.
"Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets," he said.
Tasha left the lights off when they arrived at her quarters.
They were closer than Data's quarters. He didn't mind. He just needed somewhere to lay his head.
Tasha put Data's arm down on the table.
Data pointed at the replicator to ask if Tasha needed a meal. She shook her head.
Silently, pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for Data to sit.
He frowned when she moved away.
"Stay," Tasha ordered.
She disappeared into the lavvy. Data heard the tap.
A moment later Tasha emerged with a bowl of hot water and fresh towels.
She cleaned away the dried biofluid on his face. Tasha pressed a tender kiss next to the wound above Data's eye.
Then she reached for the zipper on Data's jumpsuit, shushing him when he protested.
The exposed circuitry at Data's shoulder prevented him from climbing into the shower. Tasha knew Data relished the feeling of clean bioplast—even if it wasn't necessary.
Tasha also knew there was nothing more comforting than warm water after a long, brutal day.
So, they did things Turkanan style.
Data groaned as the warm flannel made contact with the back of his neck. Tasha cleaned his shoulders and traced the musculature of his chest.
Tasha knelt down in front of Data. She cleaned his hand, kissing each finger before she moved onto his legs.
Data longed to tell Tasha how much he appreciated her attention.
"Rubber ducky, you are the one. You make bath time lots of fun."
Tasha giggled.
"You're wonderful," Tasha said with a bashful smile.
Data wanted to melt.
No one before had ever treated him with such tenderness.
He also understood the significance of this act in the context of Tasha's upbringing.
For the people of Northern Turkana, bathing meant a dip in the dangerous swamps, frozen rivers, and hauling water back to one's hovel.
A bath from a bowl with hot water was a great luxury.
Intimacy too was a rarity on Turkana. It was risky to leave oneself so exposed. Bathing was an act of trust.
Tasha still wasn't entirely recuperated herself—but she wanted to do this for Data.
She had to do this.
They had come so very close to losing one another that Tasha thought she might shake apart if she dwelled on it.
She wanted Data to feel like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered, to remind Data of his importance.
Tasha pressed her lips to his collarbone. She kissed his navel before her lips travelled over the soft bioplast of his stomach.
It was an act of claiming.
Each kiss was a promise.
Nothing was going to separate them again—not hearings, or Romulans, or conspiracies, or crisis.
Not even time itself. Tasha vowed.
They were bonded, destined to be together.
"Stardust," Tasha mused as she eyed the dust on Data's boots.
They had defied the odds. Somehow, someway they were still together. Tasha took it as a sign from the universe that they were meant to be together.
It was fate.
Tasha kissed the inside of Data's knee before she ran the warm rag over his calves.
Data was utterly soothed, but something burned in the back of his mind. He reached for Tasha's shoulder to catch her attention.
"Does it feel it good?" Tasha asked.
Data nodded.
"Then let me continue," she said, lightly chastising him.
Tasha needed it just as much as Data did.
Tasha removed Data's boots and set them aside. Data whimpered when she rubbed his feet. Tasha grinned to herself. She took no small sense of satisfaction in knowing she could make Data so happy.
Data slipped his fingers under Tasha's chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Luh… luhhh—"
Data frowned in frustration. Wordlessly, he begged for information.
"Leave?"
Data nodded.
"Before you beamed down to Iconia, Captain Picard agreed to let us go," Tasha explained.
She paused and wrung the flannel out over the bowl.
"He will give us a shuttle to go to Føroyar," Tasha said.
Data caught Tasha's hand, stopping her. He gently pulled Tasha onto his lap. He was frustrated by his inability to express himself clearly.
"We can talk about it after we get some rest. Just let me—"
Data squeezed her tight with his lone arm, signalling that he needed her to stay. Tasha laid her head on Data's shoulder.
The exhaustion hit. Tasha was ready to collapse.
"Data, I can't keep my eyes open," Tasha said.
"Ssssleeep," he said.
Tasha grinned.
She captured his lips in a slow, easy kiss. Tasha lingered to nuzzle his nose.
"Yes. Let's go to bed," Tasha said.
Data's sponge bath was left abandoned next to the chair as they moved to the bedroom.
Tasha snagged a clean, soft shirt from the wardrobe for Data to sleep in.
He shook his head.
Tasha swapped it for one with longer sleeves.
"This?" she asked.
Data took it from her hands and set it down on the built-in dresser. Tasha didn't follow.
Before she could ask, Data gripped the side of her uniform.
"FFfeeel," he managed to say.
He stepped closer and nuzzled against Tasha's neck.
"Just… ffffeeel you," Data said.
Tasha nodded in understanding.
Data wasn't asking for sex. He just wanted intimacy.
Data climbed into bed and watched, both mesmerised and relieved, as Tasha removed her uniform and tossed it into the garment reprocessor.
The tension Data held in his shoulders slipped away after Tasha climbed into bed next to him.
Data traced his fingers up the length of her leg and over her hip. They travelled across her collarbone and the swell of her chest. They ghosted down the length of her exposed spine.
Data needed to catalogue everything, to assure himself that Tasha was real.
That she was safe.
Tasha sat back against the headboard.
"Come here," she said, waving Data close.
He snuggled close and laid his head on her chest. Data relaxed as Tasha stroked his hair. Data was safe in the arms of his love.
"I love you, Data," she whispered.
Tasha could feel herself slipping into the cosy embrace of sleep. She was nearly out when Data made a noise.
"Stardust," Data murmured.
"Hmmm?" Tasha asked groggily.
Data too had been hovering at the edge of his rest programme, drifting somewhere in the recesses of his mind.
Data reminded himself that he was in bed, safe under the cool sheet. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of Tasha's chest with each breath. His power cell beat in time with her heart.
There was something important floating around in the back of his mind. Only Data couldn't be bothered to dig for it.
Data could barely remember the events of the day. It was all a tangled mess.
Iconia. Romulans.
Stardust.
Duckies.
Duckies.
Data reached up and traced the curve of Tasha's breast to confirm she really was there.
"Go to sleep, baby," Tasha murmured.
Data turned his head to the side and pressed a tender kiss against her right breast.
"Mmm. Duckies."
Without another word, Data slowed his processing and let his rest programme take over.
Author's Note Addendum
Aghh!
You can't see me right now, but I'm flashing frantic jazz hands.
Why?
Because now that we've cleared up this Neutral Zone business we're moving back to a Data/Tasha centred story.
The bath scene is a callback to the early days of Data & Tasha's relationship where a similar scene preceded Tasha finally saying, 'I love you.' I wanted to find a way to mark this moment as it represents moving to a new phase of their relationship with something that honoured where it all began.
Data's comment about "pretty duckies" is taken from a letter Henry VIII wrote to Anne Boleyn.
"Duckies" was slang for breasts.
If you are familiar with the letter, you'll know it's really "duckys" (among other spelling changes in that quote). I thought the early modern English spellings might throw readers off. So, I changed some of the words to modern spelling instead.
At the time Henry wrote the letter, the line about kissing her "pretty duckies" was considered positively racy.
In fact, the Catholic Church found it so raunchy that the letter was stolen by a Vatican spy. It remains in the Vatican archives.
Even in recent years, the Vatican has declined requests from documentary filmmakers to show the actual letter on film because it considers the reference to Anne Boleyn's "duckys" too scandalous.