Author's Note: Thank you so much for indulging me with the April Fool's arc!
And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...
A few notes on this instalment – I really wanted to add some depth to the backstory between Karnas and Jameson. I think Karnas could have been a much more complex 'villain' with a little more motivation.
Therefore, there are a few divergences in this chapter from the canon episode.
As always, feel free to join me on Trek Twitter @TheTartanTart.
-X-
"Another mapping mission?" Geordi asked with a hint of frustration.
For nearly a month the Enterprise had been trekking across the same span of the galaxy as they mapped the Muratas Star Cluster.
It was routine, if not boring, assignment.
The team was already caught up on their training cycles and the Engineering staff had made a serious dent in their maintenance list.
Tasha and Worf had completed all their staff phaser recertifications.
Beverly and the medical team had taken inventory, conducted hundreds of physicals, and gone through nearly six months' worth of backlogged medical journals.
They were nearing the conclusion of their mission to the Muratas Star Cluster. For the last week, the team had eagerly awaited their next assignment in hopes it would prove to be a change of pace.
After all, they were in Starfleet because they shared a desire to explore – even if some days it felt more like they were out there playing diplomats to the galaxy.
It was 18:00 hours. Per Captain Picard's request, the crew were assembled in the Observation Lounge awaiting orders.
"I got a letter from my mother," Deanna said. "She said the peace talks on Bolarus IX and Maropa have been progressing. Perhaps we've been called in to assist if there's an impending treaty?"
"You know Wesley's been talking about this nebula cluster they just discovered in the Sigma sector near Zaran," Beverly informed them. "Apparently it's got the whole Astrochemistry team in a hubbub. Something about Monazite?"
Beverly shrugged.
"Yes! The initial team from the science vessel USS Beagle discovered heavy mineral deposits along an asteroid within the nebula cluster. The contained a number of rare elements including Monazite," Data chimed in.
He had read the report a few days earlier and hoped that their next assignment would be to join the Beagle in the nebula cluster.
Worf and Tasha exchanged a look from across the table.
"What?" Riker asked, sensing there was something they knew and weren't sharing with the group.
"There was an incident at a Federation depot," Worf said.
He was intentionally vague so as to avoid further questioning.
"What kind of incident?" Deanna asked.
"Seventeen Starfleet personnel killed. Two wounded. Critically," Tasha shared. "A salvage crew."
"That's awful," Beverly said. "But why would that involve us?"
It was a valid question. As tragic as such an occurrence was, it seemed highly unlikely the Enterprise would be called in for such a matter unless there was more to the story.
"Because it happened along the Neutral Zone," Worf said.
"And because there were originally three injured crew members. Before he succumbed to his injuries, Ensign Jared Taylor said the word 'disruptor'," Tasha said darkly.
Everyone glanced around at one another.
"I thought they said at the Command Conference that Romulans were making peace overtures?" Beverly asked in confusion.
Ever since their return from Earth, Federation news sources had been running stories about the Vulcan initiatives toward peace. Starfleet was working to demilitarise along the Neutral Zone and personnel were being shipped out and reassigned.
"But you don't think so," Miles said.
It was a statement – not a question.
"Federation salvage depots are a significant source of information and resources," Worf commented.
They were full of decommissioned ships just waiting to be stripped and scrapped.
"Think about how many active ships go missing and are never recovered," Tasha said. "Take a decommissioned ship? Nobody bats an eye."
Geordi frowned.
"Those ships are thirty, forty years old or more," Geordi argued. "It's not like that technology is a secret to the Romulans."
"Private detectives often dig through trash for information," Worf replied.
"I really hope we aren't going to the Neutral Zone," Miles remarked.
"What about the Neutral Zone?" Picard said as he swept into the room.
"The Neutral Tones. They're a band, sir," Tasha lied.
Captain Picard gave Tasha a warning look. He wasn't buying her excuse for a second. After the meeting, he would need to remind her of his order not to dig any further into the possible Romulan spy ring aboard the Enterprise.
But such a chat would have to wait.
"I've just ordered Lieutenant O'Neill to set a course for Persephone V at Warp nine," Picard announced.
He took his seat at the head of the table and turned toward the viewscreen.
"Starfleet Command received this message three hours ago," Picard said.
He tapped his PADD and the viewscreen in the Observation Lounge lit up.
It was a video log. A grey-haired man in a white military uniform of some sort was sitting behind a desk. His chest was decorated with a handful of medals – but he wasn't immediately recognisable to any of the crew.
"I am Karnas, governor of Mordan IV," he announced.
Mordan IV.
As he watched the video, Data simultaneously accessed his internal databank for any available information on the planet and its leader.
"A dissident group of terrorists have taken Federation Ambassador Hawkins and his staff hostage. They will not discuss terms with me. This is a crisis I cannot resolve," Karnas said.
Goosepimples formed on Tasha's arms as soon as she heard the word 'hostages.'
Hostage situations were complicated – particularly when a politically motivated group was involved. Tasha recognised that such large, institutional changes weren't easily made. And most Federation-affiliated governments had standing policies not to negotiate with terrorists – a policy that almost ended in body counts.
"The terrorists are demanding a Federation negotiator. I feel there is only one negotiator with the skills necessary to resolve this situation. The lives of these hostages will depend on Starfleet delivering this man to Mordan," Karnas went on.
It certainly explained why they were making haste to their destination.
"Admiral Mark Jameson," Karnas said.
A quiet murmur went around the room. It was a name they were all familiar with.
Admiral Mark Jameson was a Starfleet legend. He had devoted his life to his career.
And what a distinguished career it was.
Jameson had played a significant role as one of the lead negotiators during the peace talks with the Klingons. He had served as a Federation envoy during overtures to the Breen Confederacy. And Jameson had successfully negotiated a cease-fire agreement with the Talarians.
"You have been given six Earth days to bring Jameson here or the hostages will die," Karnas concluded.
Captain Picard shut the viewscreen off.
He turned back to the team and folded his hands on the table.
"We are flying into a mission that could be extremely dangerous. Five years ago, Mordan signed a peace agreement. It has been uneasy since," Picard explained. "We don't who these terrorists are. Or what their demands might be."
There had been little information contained in Karnas's emergency transmission.
As a Federation Ambassador had been taken hostage, Starfleet had immediately dispatched the Enterprise to pick up Jameson.
"Because of the timing, we're going to have to piece together the details en route," Picard said.
Jean-Luc looked around at his officers. If there was anyone up to the task, Jean-Luc knew it was his team.
"Number One, Counsellor, I want you to put together a detailed psychological profile on Karnas and other significant political players or Mordan. Try to identify any possible suspects for the leader of this dissident movement and any profiling information you can give us," Picard ordered.
He glanced next to Data and Tasha.
"Data, Lieutenant Yar, this situation on Mordan could devolve quickly. I want you to dig into the history of the conflict and start preparing for a level one diplomatic security contingent for hostage extraction. I want options for both a public negotiation and a covert operation," Picard said. "Once he's on board, work with Jameson. Find out what we're dealing with here."
"Understood, sir," Data nodded.
"Mr Worf, I'm tasking you with ship-wide preparations. We'll be at yellow alert once we reach Mordan. Phaser and torpedo banks at the ready. Mordan V is warp capable and has a fleet of ships. They're allied with the New Unrgians. I want extra staff on each shift in case things get ugly," Picard went on.
While certainly not the most formidable force in the quadrant, the Mordan-New Ungrian alliance was armed. If this was a political dissident movement, there was no telling where those forces would align if a full-scale coup were to erupt.
"Lieutenant La Forge, Chief O'Brien, I need you to ensure that we've got adequate power to sustain shields. We might be in orbit for a while if the negotiations take time," Picard said. "We don't know if this will take hours or weeks."
The Enterprise was capable of maintaining her shield capabilities for extended periods of time. But she couldn't hold them indefinitely without adequate cool down periods and maintenance. It would mean all hands-on deck down in Engineering to keep them online.
Lastly, Jean-Luc's gaze fell on Beverly at the end of the table.
"Doctor, Admiral Jameson retired from Starfleet because he has Iverson's disease," Picard said. "I'm counting on you to care for him during his team here. And you'll need to accompany him on the mission."
"I understand, sir," Beverly assured him.
Jean-Luc didn't like the idea of sending Beverly into such a dangerous situation – but they needed to ensure the Admiral's health to complete the mission.
The lives of the hostages were depending on it.
Iverson's disease had no known cure, but there were a number of treatments that slowed the progress of the disease.
It required frequent physical therapy and a complex series of corticosteroid hyposprays. If the negotiations lasted for weeks, it might prove a challenge.
"Well, you all have your assignments. We're due to arrive at Persephone V in thirty-one hours," Picard said.
-X-
Mordan IV.
It was a moderately advanced society – similar to where Earth had been around hundred years earlier.
They were warp capable.
Their technological advancement had been ground to a halt in 2319 when one of the leaders of a prominent political faction had been assassinated.
It had launched the country into forty years of bloody civil conflict.
Five years earlier, the planet had found an uneasy peace. Korus, the son of the late assassinated leader whose death had sparked the violence, had been named Governor of the planet.
According to Starfleet reports, Korus had maintained peace with a heavy hand.
Korus was supported by a political party known as the Red Hand. They were bitter rivals with another political faction called the Sword of the People.
"Why is Starfleet even involved with these people?" Tasha asked.
She sat back and closed her eyes. With a heavy sigh, Tasha rubbed her temples.
"The abduction of Ambassador Hawkins and his staff is a priority mission," Data replied.
"I mean before all that," Tasha said as she motioned at her PADD on the table. "Neither of these factions seem particularly inclined to Federation values."
Data lifted and then dropped his eyebrows in recognition of her assessment.
He had to admit that Tasha had a point.
Both the Red Hand and the Sword of the People had reputations for brutality, corruption, and the swift and terrible manner in which they had oppressed an ethnic minority group known as the Mordu.
Tasha got up from the table and stepped over to the replicator to grab a cuppa mint tea.
"I just don't see why Starfleet ever stepped in the first time," Tasha said.
"Perhaps we should ask Admiral Jameson?" Data suggested.
"Yeah," Tasha agreed.
She sat back down at the table and swiped through the screen.
Forty years of fighting and for what? Tasha thought bitterly.
Nearly four million people dead.
Two generations devastated.
A poison atmosphere.
Tasha frowned. PADD and clicked to bookmark her place.
"I'm going to call it a night on this," Tasha said as she tossed her PADD back onto the table.
Data set down his own device. From across the table, he studied her expression.
"You are bothered by this," Data observed.
"Yeah," Tasha admitted as she turned her attention to the window in her quarters.
She took a sip of her tea and decided it would be best to do something to take her mind off things for a while.
"I think I'm going to go for a run," Tasha said as she got up from the table.
"Tasha?" Data inquired.
"I'm fine," Tasha assured him. "I'll be back in about ninety minutes."
Tasha emerged from her bedroom a few moments later sporting her Parrises Squares bag and running shoes.
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then headed off for the holodeck.
After she was gone, Data turned his attention back to his work with a newfound perspective.
Just what was Starfleet doing on Mordan? He pondered.
Mordan was not a member planet of the Federation. However, the Federation had continued diplomatic relations with them for nearly fifty years.
The Federation maintained a diplomatic presence in the capital city with an Ambassador and a staff of thirty-eight Starfleet personnel.
Data poured through half a century of Starfleet records on the area – economic reports, troop movements, and he dove into the politics of the original conflict.
While the war may have started with the assassination of Korus the Elder, the conflict dated back much further. In Data's opinion, even if Karnas the Elder had not died at the hands of his assassin, the long-term tension would have made such a conflict unavoidable.
Both of the primary factions involved were not all that different from one another in their methods and tactics – though there were a number of key differences in their viewpoints. The Red Hand sought to preserve the socio-economic class structure that had dominated Mordan for centuries.
The Red Hand was headed by a number of prominent families. Similar to an oligarchy, it functioned by keeping the bulk of power in the hands of an elite few. However, those elite few had endeared themselves to some of the people by ensuring stability.
On the other side, the Sword of the People was a political movement led by industry and agriculture that sought to nationalise Mordan's economy and production facilities. They pledged fair wages and an end to the class warfare.
However, both parties had violently persecuted a people known as the Mordu. They were an ethnic minority on the planet. In the last century, most of the Mordu people had been forced to work as unpaid labourers, domestic workers, and agricultural hands.
Both sides had stamped out the Mordu religion and language. They were forcibly assimilated into Mordanian culture – yet denied full citizenship.
Data looked up from his tablet and blinked as he realised why Tasha was so rattled.
-X-
When she got back from her run, Tasha showered quickly.
She was enjoying her post-run high and didn't want to lose it by starting up on the Mordan situation again.
Data suspected as such and made quick work of putting away their notes and clearing the table, so all signs of the matter were gone.
When she emerged from the shower, Tasha found him sitting on the sofa as he stared out at the stars that were whizzing by.
"Hey," Tasha said as she curled up with him.
"A part of me will miss the quiet of the last few weeks," Data confessed.
Tasha could empathise. Data had loved the free time to work through his ever-growing list of projects. It was a chance to engage in research for the purpose of discovery rather than producing a result.
Pure science was beautiful and the time to do it was something Data treasured more than anything.
Well, almost anything.
Data brushed a soft kiss to the top of Tasha's wet hair.
"You really wanted to go to that nebula cluster, didn't you?" Tasha asked.
"It would have been nice," Data admitted.
"Yeah. It would have been," Tasha agreed.
It was strange for her to agree to such a notion. Tasha had never been for enjoying a routine science mission unless it gave her the chance to explore another planet.
It wasn't that Tasha was opposed to such missions, it's just there wasn't much for her to do when they were simply taking samples or observing a nebula.
"Tasha, may I ask you a question?" Data inquired.
"Hmm?" Tasha responded.
"Are you bothered by this mission because of the safety concerns or because there are similarities to Turkana?" Data asked.
The violence. The persecution. The stories of all the horrors that the people on Mordan IV had endured – it was a bitter reminder of the life Tasha had left behind.
The world you abandoned. An annoying voice in her head said.
It's why Tasha had gone on the run – she desperately needed to push away those intrusive thoughts.
"I guess you could say it hits a little close to home," Tasha replied in a faraway voice.
"You are not back there," Data assured her. "And your home is here. With me."
"He's older than I thought he would be," Riker whispered.
"I didn't even know he was still alive," Miles replied quietly.
"Right this way, Admiral," Captain Picard said as he guided Admiral Jameson and his wife out into the corridor.
The Captain, Data, Tasha, Beverly, and the Jameson's headed out to the nearest lift to take them to their guest quarters.
All preparations had been made in accordance with the Admiral's assistant. While the Captain saw to settling in Jameson, Riker was off to set up in the Observation Lounge for a briefing.
"Welcome aboard, Admiral," Picard said. "We're delighted to have you with us."
Jameson was nothing short of a Federation legend and many of the crew were thrilled at the prospect of going on a mission with such a historic figure.
"Yes. She's quite a ship!" Jameson said approvingly.
It was his first time on a Galaxy class vessel.
Tasha and Data smirked at one another.
They could understand his fascination – there really was nothing else quite like the flagship.
"Captain, there are certain details of this mission that you should understand before we get underway," Jameson said.
The six of them stepped onto the lift to take them down two levels.
"I am not here in the capacity of an advisor," Jameson declared. "Starfleet has designated me Senior Mission Officer meaning I will control any away teams and their actions. I also have senior command decision on the ship. Is that clear, Captain?"
He certainly doesn't waste any time. Picard mused.
"Of course, Admiral," Picard replied.
"The food replicator is built into the wall here and there's a garment replicator and reprocessor built into the wall unit in the bedroom through that door," Tasha explained.
Anne Jameson looked around the quarters in wonder.
"This is amazing," she said.
"I'd like to talk about a care plan for the trip," Beverly brought up.
"Later," Admiral Jameson urged.
"And Lieutenant Yar and I would like to discuss the details of our mission," Data added.
"That's more like it!" Jameson said as he clasped his hands together.
He seemed to perk up at the prospect of planning for the mission.
"Why don't you page us after you've settled, and we can start the debriefing?" Tasha suggested.
Admiral Jameson waved off the idea.
"No, no. Annie can see to all that. I'm here to work," Jameson asserted.
"Then we'll leave you to it," Picard said.
He and Doctor Crusher ducked out of the room so Data and Tasha could start in with their questions for Jameson.
"He certainly is livewire," Picard commented as soon as they were alone in the corridor.
"Is it just me, or do you get the distinct impression that Admiral Jameson is keen to relive his glory days?" Beverly asked.
-X-
"Sir, Karnas was largely responsible for the unification of Mordan and the uneasy peace that has followed. Why would he now be unable to deal with this rebellious faction?" Data inquired.
They were seated around the table in the Admiral's quarters.
"Forty-five years ago, I negotiated a hostage situation on Mordan. Karnas was a young man then. So was I," Admiral Jameson said. "He seems to feel I must be able to handle the situation once again."
"Do you believe this is the Sword of the People? Or some kind of splinter organisation? Could you give us any names of those who might be in position to pull off such a takeover?" Tasha inquired.
Their next stop was a meeting with Will and Deanna. They wanted to cross-reference their research with any insights Jameson could provide.
Jameson nodded slowly.
A strange smile spread across his face as he reminisced about his time on Mordan.
It was a shining moment of his career – one that launched him from an ordinary Captain to outstanding Admiral and into the pages of history.
"Where to begin?" Jameson said fondly. "I was on the Gettysburg at the time. We had just wrapped up a routine resupply mission when we got word that the fighting had killed two Federation negotiators sent to intervene."
Jameson could recall the day clearly.
"The crisis had reached the tipping point and war was on the horizon. We were the closest ship available. And I didn't have a lick of professional diplomatic training," Jameson went on. "But I had a good ship and a fine crew. And the kind of reckless confidence of youth."
Jameson chuckled to himself.
"Mark, these officers are being very polite. I'm sure they would like to hear your stories after the mission is complete. But right now they've got a job to do," Anne said as she gripped her husband's shoulder.
Anne Jameson was surprisingly intuitive. She knew how important this assignment was to her husband – the culmination of a long career. It was very possible it could be his final mission with Starfleet.
He was semi-retired but kept tabs on the happenings throughout the quadrant – occasionally giving lectures or consulting on diplomatic affairs.
Anne was hoping that this mission to Mordan would prove to be the feather in his cap.
And that once he had that accomplishment, he would be ready to finally and fully retire.
"We are somewhat pressed for time, sir," Data said.
Jameson sat back in his wheelchair.
"Time," he said simply.
For a brief moment, Data and Tasha were worried they had offended the Admiral.
It seemed Data's statement had struck a chord.
"You are an artificial lifeform, correct?" Jameson asked.
It was inevitable that question was eventually going to come up.
"Yes, sir," Data responded.
"If I may be frank, what is the lifespan of your construction?" Jameson questioned.
Data cocked his head to the side and blinked.
"Unknown," Data answered honestly.
Theoretically, there was no estimated expiration on his components. Data suspected that, in time, some of those parts and pieces would need to be replaced eventually. But it was possible that he would live for hundreds if not thousands of years.
"Immortality," Jameson said in astonishment as he listened to Data. "Mankind has always dreamed of such a concept. And spent eons pondering what one might do with such a gift."
For Mark Jameson, it was a question that had weighed heavily on his mind since his earliest days in Starfleet.
What responsibility did one have to the universe?
What legacy should he build?
"But for you such a question is not merely hypothetical. Do you know how lucky you are to have unlimited time?" Jameson said in fascination.
"I would gladly accept mortality if it meant experiencing life as a human," Data responded.
Tasha wanted to reach under the table and grip his hand for support, but she recognised they were on duty. Their relationship would have to wait.
Jameson laughed softly at Data's response.
"The grass is always greener," Jameson remarked.
"Ah! Yes, the concept that things we do not possess are more appealing than one's present situation," Data said.
"Mark, the mission," Anne Jameson reminded him.
Admiral Jameson reached over and took his wife's hand.
"Annie always wanted a family, but I keep reminding her of how wonderful our life has been without having to chase after a bunch of rugrats," Jameson said with a smile.
A brief look of sadness fell upon Anne Jameson's face which she quickly covered with a warm smile.
"I read this ship has family quarters. Pity they didn't have them forty years ago," Anne said. "Speaking of which, Commander Data and Lieutenant Yar have work to complete. You can share your war stories another time. We shouldn't delay them in case they have their own families to get back to."
Data and Tasha looked to one another.
"Oh, we don't erm-" Tasha said awkwardly.
"What Lieutenant Yar means is that our priority is the mission at hand," Data said without breaking eye contact.
"However, we are pressed for time," Tasha added, still holding his gaze. "We have some time but, but not as much as we'd like."
"Not nearly enough," Data concluded.
"I recognise the timing to brief for this mission is inadequate," Admiral Jameson said.
Data and Tasha both snapped their heads back across the table to the Admiral.
"The mission. Right," Tasha said.
-X-
"Just in time," Riker said as Data and Tasha joined their briefing.
Deanna and Commander Riker had spent most of the day combing over records from Mordan. They had profiled twenty-four different individuals.
It was a tremendous undertaking, and they were working against the clock as the Enterprise raced across the Alpha Quadrant in order to reach Mordan before the terrorist's deadline.
"We're hoping Admiral Jameson gave you one or two possible suspects for a terrorist leader," Deanna explained.
"We were kind of hoping for that too," Tasha replied in a grim voice.
"The Admiral was less than forthcoming with information about Mordan," Data clarified.
Riker frowned.
He couldn't fathom any reason why Admiral Jameson would be scant on details.
"Does this have something to do with his Iverson's disease? Memory failure?" Riker inquired.
Data shook his head.
"Iverson's disease does not impact cognitive functioning," Data said. "The Admiral is in control of his full mental faculties."
"And he understands the kind of deadline we're working with?" Riker pressed.
Deanna noticed Tasha was chewing on her lip.
"Tasha?" Deanna inquired.
"I think the Admiral is overconfident in his ability to handle this situation," Tasha shared. "He's self-assured. Almost too self-assured."
"The Admiral did repeatedly say he was the only person capable of solving this crisis," Data said.
"And you're worried that could be dangerous," Deanna finished for her.
She could sense Tasha was uneasy.
"Confidence is necessary for any officer on an away mission. Hubris is risky. He knows something. And clearly he doesn't trust us enough to share it. In my opinion, that's dangerous," Tasha advised.
-X-
The next morning, Captain Picard invited Admiral Jameson to the Bridge. They had received a request from Mordan – Karnas was eager to know if Admiral Jameson was en route.
"Incoming message from Mordan IV," Tasha advised from the Tactical position.
"Onscreen," Picard ordered.
The viewscreen switched over and Karnas appeared at his desk.
"Is Admiral Jameson aboard?" Karnas demanded.
He seemed almost fervent in his need to confirm this information. In order to save time, the Enterprise had cut through a remote part of space known as the Gu'iandor Pass. The unique mix of dense space debris and gravitational pull from a triple star system created interference with subspace channels.
Upon clearing the area, the Enterprise had discovered Karnas had sent eight different hails demanding a status update.
"Here!" Jameson chirped up.
"So, Jameson, I see time has not been kind," Karnas remarked.
It was almost as if Karnas took pleasure in seeing Jameson's condition. Deanna could sense that Karnas was pleased – though she couldn't pinpoint if that was in knowing that Jameson was on his way, in seeing an old friend, or because he got a kick out of Jameson having aged.
"Time seldom is, Karnas. However, we could save a good deal of it now if you'll outline the terrorists' demands," Jameson said.
Karnas strolled around to the front of his desk. He rocked his head back and forth and then sat back on the surface.
"They insist all discussions will take place here on Mordan. They refuse to speak to me. They will only communicate with a Federation mediator," Karnas insisted. "They say there can be no delay. No tricks. And no excuses."
It had taken two days to reach Admiral Jameson and the team was still another forty hours out from Mordan.
"Are they aware we are on our way? Or can you tell us who we may relay that message to?" Jameson questioned.
"I've seen to it," Karnas replied cryptically.
He sighed.
"They've said that any deviation from their demands and they will kill Ambassador Hawkins and his staff," Karnas warned. "I believe them. And so should you."
"I would very much like to assure them that I will accept their conditions of negotiation," Jameson stated.
Karnas smiled.
"Excellent. I will do so immediately and then relay further instruction," Karnas said.
"Karnas, my old friend, can you tell me who is doing this?" Jameson asked.
Thus far, the identity of the terrorists had remained a mystery. That was a big red flag for Jameson. In his experience, terrorists were usually quick to assume responsibility for unrest as it fuelled their movement.
They wanted attention in order to sway public opinion in their favour.
It made no sense to pull such a drastic takeover of the Federation Embassy and then keep it under wraps.
"Dissidents," Karnas answered.
There was an awkward pause as his answer left much to be desired.
"Political opponents," Karnas shrugged.
Political opponents? Data thought with alarm.
"But who? Ardan? Gilnor? The Otun sisters?" Jameson said, pressing Karnas for an answer.
"They're dead Jameson. Long dead. I thought you were too," Karnas replied, avoiding the question.
All of sudden, Karnas clapped his hands together.
"And now you're coming back to Mordan to negotiate for hostages again," Karnas said. "It's almost like these forty-five years have never happened."
"I only wish they hadn't," Jameson said in a strange voice.
"I know you mean it," Karnas responded.
Worf and Tasha exchanged a glance.
After the channel disconnected, Riker was the first to find his voice.
"For a man in his position, Karnas doesn't seem to know much about the situation," Riker remarked.
They had been given no details about the negotiations – only that they would take place on Mordan.
"Wrong, Commander Riker," Jameson said. "He's told us that the terrorists are desperate enough to kill if they are crossed. And that they are, at least, willing to talk."
Captain Picard turned in his seat to Deanna who was on his left.
"Counsellor?" Picard prompted.
The entire exchange seemed odd, and he wanted her professional expertise on the matter.
"From his body language and tone, I would say Karnas is being honest in the information he gave us," Deanna advised.
"But?" Picard pressed, sensing there was more.
"He's holding something back," Deanna answered.
Jameson waved this off.
"Perhaps, but knowing Karnas as I do, I suspect it's closer to the mark that he does not want to admit failure in his own attempts to negotiate," Jameson said, dismissing Deanna's concern. "He is a proud man. He has never been able to accept failure."
"Then what it is that the terrorist want that Karnas can't or won't give them?" Picard pondered aloud.
"Mordan has had an uneasy peace for five years. The planet has insufficient productivity to sustain its population. Perhaps the terrorists believe a change in government or Federation intervention is their only recourse?" Data suggested.
But Admiral Jameson seemed to have a different theory.
"I have often found peace, or the illusion of peace, is nothing more than a prelude to war," Jameson shared.
"Admiral, are you suggesting these terrorists want arms? That their intention is to pull Starfleet into an arms race?" Tasha asked.
Based on the research Data and Tasha had conducted, it wouldn't surprise her in the least. They both shared serious reservations about Starfleet's involvement in the conflict.
"Karnas would like that," Jameson said with a hearty laugh.
"Because of his involvement with arms production on Mordan?" Deanna theorised.
Her research in profiling Karnas had turned up that he had significant holdings in numerous arms manufacturing facilities.
His family had amassed most of their wealth from the war.
"Karnas would never sell to the Sword of the People. And they would never buy arms from him. They raid his factories to steal what they need," Jameson informed them. "No, no. In abducting the Ambassador, Karnas has had his honour insulted. This is as much an attack on him personally as it is on his leadership."
Will and Deanna had read enough of Karnas's history to understand that he was a proud man. He had a tendency to take criticism personally and failure was not a word in his vocabulary.
"We will need to be careful in dealing with Karnas. He will want revenge on them for that insult," Jameson cautioned.
-X-
To everyone's surprise, Admiral Jameson had insisted on staying on the Bridge all afternoon.
At 15:00 hours, Beverly had shown up on the Bridge to administer the Admiral's afternoon round of injections – after he had missed his appointment in Sickbay.
To her frustration, the Admiral still hadn't made time for his routine physical examination.
Out of concern, Beverly had opted to remain on the Bridge. She was hoping that once Alpha shift concluded, she could convince the Admiral to accompany her to Sickbay to complete the exam.
"We're approaching the Idini Star Cluster. Would you like to take the conn as we make transit?" Captain Picard offered.
"Thank you, Captain. I would," Jameson responded.
To everyone's astonishment, Admiral Jameson rose from his wheelchair.
Beverly gasped.
She leapt out of her seat to rush to assistance, assuming he had fallen.
"I'm fine," Jameson said, waving her off.
His steps were shaky, but he managed to make his way to the helm unassisted.
"Well, Admiral. I would seem you are full of surprises," Picard exclaimed.
"Quite," Beverly said, perplexed.
Data cocked his head to the side as he observed the Admiral's sudden burst of mobility. It was completely illogical.
And yet, they had all witnessed it.
"Neglected to mention that I began some new therapy before I left," Jameson said in a jovial manner. "Seems to be working! I haven't felt this good since I was in command of the Gettysburg."
Admiral Jameson tapped the helm and set in a course to navigate the ship through the immediate area.
"All I needed to get me out of that chair was the thought of walking the decks in command of a starship again," Jameson said brightly.
"Admiral, you only have the conn temporarily," Picard reminded him.
"A figure of speech!" Jameson grinned. "She's your ship. I'll just keep an eye on her for a while."
-X-
Geordi, Worf, Tasha, Data, Miles, and Commander Riker were sitting together in Ten Forward over a pitcher of stout.
It was an unusually quiet post-work happy hour.
Beverly and Deanna had accompanied Admiral Jameson back to his quarters in hopes of convincing him to submit to the physical examination.
"I think we've got the shield coolant time down another eighteen minutes," Geordi said.
"Aye. We're making progress," Miles chimed in.
"Great," Riker replied.
Tasha tapped the edge of her pint glass. Data was staring intently at the chess game two tables over.
For a moment, no one said anything.
"We completed loading the reserve torpedo bays at 16:00 hours," Worf announced.
"Oh, good," Tasha responded.
Everyone fell silent again.
"Well if this isn't the gloomiest happy hour I've ever seen," Guinan said as she approached their table.
She pulled out her PADD tablet and glanced around the table.
"Do you guys want to order any food or just doing-" Guinan began to ask.
Before she could get the question out she was met with a chorus of affirmative statements from the table.
"Yes!" Miles said.
"Absolutely," Riker added.
"A hundred thousand times yes!" Geordi exclaimed.
"Affirmative," Data nodded politely.
Miles opted for a pork pie and chips – ordering an extra serving of chips for good measure.
"Don't tell Keiko," Miles pleaded with the table.
"You know I've got real oatmeal cookies?" Guinan offered.
Miles frowned.
"Ha ha. Very funny," he said.
"I thought it was," Guinan replied simply as the rest of the table bit back a smirk.
Geordi was feeling adventurous, so he decided to try Guinan's new Barzan-inspired stuffed Targ rolls. Commander Riker was always up for trying new foods, so he ordered the same.
"Deuces," Riker said, seconding Geordi's selection.
"I'd like the vegetarian spaghetti and meatballs, please," Worf ordered.
Riker's eyebrows shot up.
"I like the taste," Worf responded stiffly.
Riker put up his hands in surrender. He wasn't there to judge Worf – just surprised by his selection.
"I'll do the firecracker nosh bean burger with a salad, please and thank you," Tasha ordered.
She paused and scrunched up her face as if she were in deep thought.
"Actually, better make that two burgers," Tasha added.
"Rough day?" Guinan asked.
"And a strawberry shake," Tasha grinned.
Guinan flashed her a smile as she typed it all into her PADD.
"How about you, Commander?" Guinan inquired.
"I would like to try the stuffed Targ rolls along with an order of broccoli, one fried egg, a serving of pineapple, and a slice of cherry pie with pistachio ice cream," Data requested.
Guinan nodded politely and left to get their meal started.
"Data?" Geordi asked in confusion.
Data shrugged nonchalantly.
Sometimes his desire to try new foods led to some unusual combinations.
"An egg? And ice cream?" Geordi pressed.
"I am curious to try them," Data replied simply.
As they waited for dinner, the table remained relatively quiet, occasionally sharing small talk – but otherwise they mostly sat in silence.
There was one topic on everyone's mind.
And no one wanted to be the first person to bring it up.
-X-
Twenty minutes later, Guinan reappeared with their meal and a fresh pitcher of stout.
"He's a strange cat," Guinan said as she passed Data his plate.
"I did not order cat," Data replied, alarmed.
"No," Guinan assured him. "I mean the Admiral. He's a strange cat. An odd fellow."
Everyone was thinking it, but no one was quite comfortable agreeing aloud.
After all, Admiral Jameson was one of Starfleet's most distinguished officers.
"Seems a bit too caught up in the past. And I can sense you're all worried about how it will impact the negotiations," Guinan added.
Miles focused all his attention on his chips.
Geordi quickly popped a bite of food into his mouth to avoid having to answer.
"Alright, now that I've broken the ice on the subject, you all want to air what's bothering you about the Admiral to one another? Or are you going to sit here and kill the vibe in my lounge all night?" Guinan asked.
She gave them a knowing look before picking up her tray and returning behind the bar.
Everyone started talking at once.
"Why haven't the terrorists contacted us directly?" Worf asked.
"This whole thing smells fishy," Miles grumbled.
"I believe the Admiral is withholding information," Data said.
"The Admiral? I think Karnas is hiding something," Riker commented.
"Starfleet has no business policing an arms race," Tasha chimed in.
"I don't like this one bit," Geordi chimed in.
Riker put his hand to stop the group.
"Alright, alright. One at a time," Riker instructed.
As they chewed over their dinner, the team also chewed on the matter of Admiral Jameson's unusual behaviour, Karnas's attitude, and what – if any – connection the two had to one another.
-X-
"Well, it's about time," Anne said as Admiral Jameson arrived back at their quarters.
He was accompanied by Doctor Crusher and Counsellor Troi.
"Couldn't get away from the Bridge?" Anne inquired.
"Didn't want to!" the Admiral replied. "Feels too good to be on one again."
He was in a good mood and Anne was grateful for it. It was like he seemed to perk up again. Ever since his retirement, she had been worried about his mental health.
"Well, I'm glad," Anne said warmly.
She stepped over to him and took hold of his hand.
"Would you like me to help you out of your chair? We should really do your evening physical therapy," Anne asked.
"We could do your PT in Sickbay and complete the physical exam at the same time. Two birds with one stone and all," Beverly suggested.
"I took the liberty of having a physical prepared before our arrival," Jameson replied. "Annie, could you get it?"
"Of course," Anne replied.
She fetched the Admiral's personal tablet and transmitted the relevant files to Beverly's inbox.
Deanna could sense that the Admiral was hesitant to submit to any type of examination. What she didn't understand was whether it was due to some kind of natural aversion to doctors or if it were due to being poked and prodded so frequently since his diagnosis.
"Thank you," Beverly replied stiffly.
All of a sudden, Admiral Jameson doubled over in pain.
"Mark!" Anne cried as she rushed to his side.
"Put that away!" Jameson barked as Beverly whipped out her tricorder.
Beverly froze.
"I'm sorry," Jameson apologised. "I'm fine. It will pass in a moment. Side effect of my new treatment."
He was clutching his side and breathing heavily.
"See? It's going away," the Admiral assured the room.
Beverly and Deanna shared a sceptical look.
"What kind of treatment?" Beverly inquired.
"My personal physician advised me this could happen," Jameson answered, dodging the question.
"Mark? What is it?" Anne pressed.
Deanna could tell that Mrs Jameson was worried. This new treatment was news to her, and the sudden physical pain was a surprise.
"Just a response to the treatment. I'm fine," Jameson promised.
"Are you sure? Don't lie to me, Mark," Anne warned.
Deanna got the impression that the Admiral hiding things from his wife was a hallmark of their relationship.
"If you'll excuse us, I'd like to catch up on my messages now," Jameson said to Beverly and Deanna.
"Of course," Deanna nodded.
She grabbed Beverly's elbow, wordlessly advising it would be best not to protest.
At least not yet.
-X-
"Karnas still hasn't revealed how he's communicating with these terrorists. I mean, how does he know how and where to contact them?" Tasha asked, posing the question to the group.
"Maybe they're worried that interfering will hurt the hostages?" Geordi suggested.
Tasha shook her head.
"From what we've read, these guys don't operate like that," Tasha argued. "And my gut is screaming there's no way Karnas wouldn't try to track them down."
"Lieutenant Yar's assessment is accurate. Karnas has routinely employed secret police to achieve his ends. And he oversees a massive intelligence gathering network," Data added.
"They have to be tracking them," Tasha went on.
"So why does Karnas want to keep us in the dark?" Riker wondered aloud.
It was a question he'd been toying with ever since their communication on the Bridge.
"Perhaps Karnas is seeking to spare himself embarrassment?" Worf proposed.
Geordi's brow furrowed.
"From what?" Geordi asked.
"The Admiral said that Karnas is a proud man. Maybe he feels he missed the signs of this takeover and wants to avoid blame directed at his administration?" Worf theorised.
"Or maybe he's got ties to the terrorists?" Geordi threw out.
The team shared a look.
Across the table, Tasha sat back and crossed her arms.
"I still can't figure out why Starfleet ever got involved in the first place. I mean, they were already heading for war when Jameson stepped in the first time," Tasha said.
"The details of which Jameson seems keen to skim over," Riker added.
Data nodded.
"Indeed. I have observed that, though willing to discuss his triumph of the initial hostage negotiation in 2319, Admiral Jameson is most reluctant to share the details of how it was achieved," Data said.
The historical records offered almost no information. Despite spending hours combing through all available Starfleet records, Mordan news sources, and personal logs, contemporary sources had shed little light on the matter.
The facts were fairly straightforward.
Karnas the Elder was assassinated, Karnas the younger took a group of Federation citizens hostage, and a young Captain Jameson managed to talk Karnas into releasing them.
Jameson maintained that his appeal to Karnas had been for peace.
"But Karnas doesn't really seem like the kind of man interested in peace for the sake of peace alone," Worf remarked.
"From what I've read, they were already headed to war," Geordi said.
"But the conflict didn't escalate until the New Ungrians got involved in supplying arms," Tasha added.
Shortly after Jameson resolved the hostage crisis in 2319, the neighbouring New Ungrians began dealing arms to both the Red Hand and the Sword of the People.
"Arms which Karnas received permission to manufacture for them on Mordan," Data informed them.
Everyone took a sip of their stout as they mulled over this information.
"However, there is a glaring flaw in this theory," Data announced.
Tasha quirked an eyebrow at him.
"If Karnas is motivated by profit from his involvement in Mordanian military industrial complex, would he not want the conflict to escalate?" Data asked. "His plea to Admiral Jameson for assistance would contradict that theory."
No one was quite sure what to say.
It seemed at every turn, the team found themselves with more questions than answers – questions that neither Admiral Jameson nor Karnas was willing to assist with.
"Summat happened between those two," Miles suggested. "And until they're willing to divulge it, we're all flying in the dark."
All of sudden, Riker's combadge went off.
"Commander Riker, please report to my Ready Room," Picard ordered.
A moment later, Data received the same request.
At the same time, Tasha received a hail from Deanna.
"Tasha, could you please come to Admiral Jameson's quarters right away?" Deanna requested.
The officers glanced around at one another for a brief moment before springing into action.
-X-
"He just collapsed," Beverly explained.
Beverly, Commander Riker, and Data were assembled in the Captain's Ready Room as Beverly informed them of a recent incident involving Admiral Jameson.
Approximately forty-minutes earlier, Beverly had been paged to Admiral's quarters for a medical emergency.
According to Mrs Jameson, he had gotten up and walked around for a few moments before collapsing in pain.
At the moment, Beverly had the Admiral sedated in Sickbay and was awaiting the results of more extensive testing.
"Was there any indication during his physical that his health had taken a turn for the worse?" Picard inquired.
"All the medical information the Admiral provided showed a satisfactory health report, sir," Beverly answered. "But I don't trust it."
Picard's expression made clear he was awaiting further elaboration.
"The Admiral has refused to undergo a physical examination. He provided me medical records that he claimed were from a recent physical. But the test results he turned over aren't two days old. They're two months old," Beverly informed them. "He lied. And I don't know why."
Captain Picard sighed.
Between Jameson's stonewalling of information to Beverly and his cryptic answers to Data and Tasha, Picard was growing agitated.
"Could his memory be failing?" Riker suggested.
Beverly shook her head.
"Iverson's disease affects the body, not the mind," Beverly advised.
"Sir, I believe I speak for all of us when I say that it would seem that Admiral is withholding information from us," Data chimed in.
"Bingo," Beverly remarked.
"Inquiry. 'Bingo'?" Data asked as he cocked his head to the side.
"Later," Riker promised.
Captain Picard sat forward in his chair and rested his arms on the surface of his desk.
"It seems we've found ourselves in quite a pickle," Picard sighed.
Data opened his mouth but paused as Riker caught his eye – signalling with his hand that it would be an idiom for another time.
"Doctor, will the Admiral be healthy enough to complete the negotiations?" Picard questioned.
Beverly exhaled heavily.
"I honestly don't know. I don't even know what we're dealing with here," Beverly confessed.
It had been less than an hour since his symptoms began, and preliminary scans hadn't revealed much. It would be another three or four hours before she had more detailed lab results.
"The Admiral seemed to display remarkable improvement earlier on the Bridge," Riker said.
Beverly closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.
"No one recovers from Iverson's disease. There is no cure. There is no remission," Beverly insisted. "There is no therapy that can produce these results."
"Are you suggesting that Admiral Jameson's condition was misdiagnosed?" Data inquired.
Beverly wasn't sure how to respond.
"I don't know," Beverly admitted. "Misdiagnosed is one possibility."
She made a face that Jean-Luc recognised – one that indicated she was reluctant to share.
"Beverly?" he prompted. "I assure you that whatever you say in this room shall go no further."
Beverly took a breath to steady her nerves.
"I don't have any proof," she made clear. "But one thought that crossed my mind was genetic manipulation."
For a moment, her comment hung in the air.
"And genetic manipulation is illegal," Riker said, finishing Beverly's thought.
"Yeah," Beverly concluded.
She folded her hands in front of her and she rocked back and forth on her feet.
"It could explain why the Admiral is so hesitant to undergo a physical. And why he seems to be hiding something from us," Beverly advised.
It was a valid theory.
Were it true that a prominent Starfleet Admiral had used illegal genetic manipulation to treat himself, it would rock the Federation to its core.
Genetic manipulation was a controversial practice that had been outlawed in the Twenty Second Century. While there were practical and beneficial applications – such as the treatment of disease and injury – there were also more devious uses for such technologies.
Genetic manipulation carried dark connotations and a history of affiliation with the practices of bioweapons engineering and eugenics.
It was enough that the Federation had determined the safety concerns outweighed any potential benefits.
"Do you have any proof?" Picard asked.
"I found traces of chemical substances in his blood and tissue samples, but none of them are found in our pharmacopoeia," Beverly informed them.
Her eyes went wide and she put her hand up.
"I want to be clear, that's still preliminary. I'm still working to cross reference with any alien substances outside of our general medical treatments. Mrs Jameson advised that the Admiral has tried many different treatments," Beverly explained.
In fact, Mrs Jameson had seemed quite frustrated by her husband's obsession to find a cure for Iverson's disease. According to Anne, the Admiral had devoted countless hours to travelling all over Federation space and beyond in hopes of finding something to allow him to regain his mobility.
She felt he was wasting their golden years chasing an unattainable fantasy.
"All I know right now is whatever this treatment is, it's strongly affected his body," Beverly concluded. "I need to run more tests before I know more."
-X-
Tasha ran her tricorder over the plate of food on the table as she analysed the contents of the meal the Admiral had been eating shortly before his collapse.
She was checking for any sign of tampering or sabotage intended to harm the Admiral.
She furrowed her brow as she read the data on the screen.
"Everything seems to check out here," Tasha announced.
Following the Admiral's medical emergency, Deanna had paged for Tasha to come down and run a sweep of the Jameson's quarters.
"Oh, it's not poison! He did this to himself," Anne Jameson said with an exasperated sigh.
"What do you mean?" Tasha asked.
"Whatever this new treatment is. He's going to kill himself trying to cure himself," Anne huffed.
Deanna could sense she was deeply troubled.
"Why do you say that?" Deanna inquired.
Anne stopped pacing. A pained expression crossed her face.
"When he first was diagnosed, I was happy. I know I shouldn't be. I know that's wrong. But I just wanted to finally spend time together. These were to be our golden years," Anne confessed.
"You love him very much," Deanna observed.
Anne nodded sadly.
She did.
And she had spent more than sixty years by his side as the dutiful spouse of an Admiral – hosting diplomatic functions, making appearances in his honour when required, and managing their affairs at home while he danced across the galaxy from one crisis to the next.
"What can you tell us about this new treatment?" Tasha asked.
Anne blinked a few times.
"Not much," she replied. "Mark goes to see a doctor every three days. He insists on going alone. He started it about six weeks ago."
"Doctor Crusher mentioned there are a number of hypospray injections required – including one for this new treatment that he did not share with our ship's doctor. Did he bring aboard with him? Or do you know what it contains?" Tasha pressed. "I'd like to test it to ensure it's not the cause of this incident."
Mrs Jameson's lip began to quiver as she turned her gaze toward the wall.
"I don't know," she said.
Her hands were trembling.
"He doesn't tell me. He won't tell me," she went on.
"That's alright," Tasha assured her.
She stepped forward and gripped Mrs Jameson's hand. Tasha guided her to the table while Deanna grabbed three mugs of her special hot cocoa from the replicator – hot cocoa, cinnamon, whipped fluff, and a dash of brandy.
"I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing," Mrs Jameson said as she wiped away her tears.
"There's no need to apologise," Deanna said as she passed her one of the mugs.
"What's this?" Anne said as she looked up at Deanna.
"Cuppa cheer," Deanna smiled.
As soon as it touched her lips, Deanna could tell that it was having the desired effect.
Over the table in their quarters, Anne Jameson spilled her soul, her insecurities, and her longstanding relationship problems with Deanna and Tasha. They were strangers. But Mrs Jameson felt comfortable with both of them – and she had so few true friends.
The nature of her life as Mrs Admiral Jameson meant that while she knew many people, very few of those acquaintances were close friends. She had never been in one place long enough to establish such relationships.
Tasha's heart went out to her.
From what she shared, her life had been incredibly lonely. The Admiral had been frequently gone.
In spite of a sixty-year marriage, his work had kept them apart. Even when he was home, his schedule was full of closed-door meetings, formal functions, and charity events.
Mrs Jameson shared that after his diagnosis, the Admiral had become neurotic – determined that he would 'science his way' out of the incurable disease.
"He's in denial," Anne lamented. "Refuses to accept his condition."
She closed her eyes and sniffled.
"We could have spent the last few years enjoying our time together," Anne continued. "But when he's not working, he's shut away in his study trying to find a way to turn back the clock."
Mrs Jameson stopped as she dabbed her eyes with a napkin.
She chuckled to herself.
"You girls are sweet. Listening to an old woman prattle on about her personal problems," Anne said.
She paused.
"I'm sorry. You're officers," Anne said quickly. "I didn't mean to imply-"
"It's quite alright, Mrs Jameson," Deanna said in a reassuring tone.
Tasha and Deann knew that Mrs Jameson hadn't meant to insult them.
Anne waved her hands.
"You should get going. I don't want to keep you from your families or friends or whatever it is you do for fun," Anne said.
"We'll stay," Deanna said.
"We don't have anywhere to be," Tasha said with a smile.
"Then may I offer a word of advice?" Mrs Jameson asked.
Tasha and Deanna nodded.
"If you aren't spending time making friends, or starting a family, or picking up a hobby – you ought to be," Anne grinned.
She took a sip of her cocoa.
"Time is the most precious resource. And if I could do it all again, I certainly wouldn't have wasted a moment of it," she laughed bitterly. "We always said we were going to slow down. Start a family."
Anne shook her head longingly.
"And now we're in our nineties and it's far too late for that," Anne said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. "Titles and ranks come and go. Mark always wanted to get into the history books. But I don't know if it was worth it."
She took a breath to steady her nerves.
"I'm really not sure it was," Anne concluded.
-X-
"How's the Admiral?" Tasha asked as she stepped into Data's quarters.
Data was at his workstation, deep in thought.
"Uncertain," Data responded honestly.
Tasha didn't respond, hoping he would off more of an explanation.
"Doctor Crusher is not sure what is happening," Data informed her.
"Does she think the Admiral will be able to complete the mission?" Tasha asked.
"Unknown at this time," Data replied.
"Oh," Tasha said simply.
She removed her boots and paused, chewing on her lip as she considered the information they had on Mordan.
"You are apprehensive about the mission," Data commented.
"I was apprehensive before the Admiral's health took a turn for the worse," Tasha replied. "Now I'm downright worried."
On her way to Data's quarters, Captain Picard had radioed to advise of an update from Mordan. Following Admiral Jameson's health scare, Picard had sent a subspace transmission to advise Karnas of the situation.
He wanted to keep Karnas apprised of any information and to get a feel for the situation. Without even being prompted, Karnas had offered that the terrorists were willing to negotiate with Jameson and Jameson alone – they would not accept Picard as a substitute.
It meant that if the Admiral wasn't able to complete the mission, the hostages would likely be killed.
"You should get some rest," Data advised. "I must complete these files. But I will be in later."
Tasha nodded.
She was just a step away from the bedroom door when she paused in the frame.
Tasha stopped and turned around. For a few seconds, she said nothing as she watched Data at his workstation – his hands dancing across the screen as he rapidly input the necessary commands to read at such a fast speed.
Data realised he was being watched.
He looked up and met her gaze.
"Tasha?" he inquired.
"Come to bed with me," Tasha requested. "Please?"
They were both highly independent people. And they shared an appreciation for their responsibilities – and the long and often odd hours that came with that work.
It was such a rare thing for her to make such an ask that Data felt compelled to honour it.
"Of course," he replied.
Without a word of protest, Data shut down his workstation terminal.
After brushing her teeth and slipping into and old shirt and pair of standard issue sleep shorts, Tasha joined him in bed.
She snuggled up against Data, lying her head against his shoulder and holding him close.
"You are unusually zealous in your embrace," Data remarked before quickly adding, "not that I am complaining."
Tasha said nothing, opting instead to respond by nuzzling against him.
"Are you alright?" Data inquired.
"Data, what do you plan to do after?" Tasha paused as she searched for the right way to phrase her question.
"After the mission?" Data prompted.
"After us," Tasha said. "After me."
Data sat up. Tasha followed a second later, keeping her gaze down at her lap.
"Is this an attempt to initiate intimacy?" Data asked in confusion.
He didn't understand the origin of her question.
Tasha shook her head.
"I-," she started to say.
She was struggling to find the right words.
"I mean, well,-" she stopped.
Data slipped two fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
His expression was full of concern.
"Tasha, have I forgotten something that we had planned?" Data asked, desperate to understand why she looked so forlorn.
Tasha sighed and decided to confront the matter directly – regardless of how disjointed and confusing her feelings on the matter may be.
"People say they want to be together forever, and you've made it very clear where you stand on that. And I think there's something quite sweet about it," Tasha said with a small smile.
Her expression changed.
"But our forever is really my forever," Tasha said sadly. "I could live to be a hundred. And it's still just a blink of an eye to you. You're going to watch empires rise and fall, ages come and pass."
She reached up to cup his face.
"And I think that sounds terribly lonely," Tasha said as her voice broke.
Data's mind raced as he attempted to find the best possible way to respond. He knew she needed reassurance – and that this was likely a bigger conversation.
However, at that moment Data understood that he couldn't merely suggest moving to a formal discussion during a counselling session.
It took him 0.02 seconds to determine the right course of action.
Data pulled Tasha toward him in a warm embrace. His hand was on the back of her head, holding her against his chest as she sobbed.
Tasha let herself vent the strange mix of sorrow, anger, and frustration spill out in a mix of hot tears and nausea overtook her.
She felt sick to her stomach at the injustice of it all.
Data would eventually outlive all of his friends – and that such a lonely experience would occur time and again.
"I'm sorry," Tasha sniffled. "I'm so sorry."
It wasn't that the idea was new to her. They had discussed it in passing before. But Mrs Jameson's words had struck a chord in the Security Chief.
She couldn't stop thinking about them.
And when she walked in and saw Data fast at work, it had hit her hard.
"I have spent considerable time thinking about such a question ever since my activation," Data confessed.
Tasha clutched the back of his sleep shirt. She couldn't form words, but she wanted him to know that she was listening.
"Unless you have changed your mind, which I should note is perfectly acceptable, you shared on our last mission that you are willing to start a family someday," Data reminded her. "And I believe that I would find great joy in watching generations of that family grow."
He paused to listen to the rate of her breathing, it seemed to be slowing.
As she listened to Data share this part of his soul, Tasha had a newfound appreciation for why the idea of family was so precious to him.
And a part of her was moved that of all the possible people Data could have chosen – he wanted to start that family with her.
"I h-haven't changed my mind," Tasha assured him.
"I have considered returning to Starfleet Academy or enrolling at the Vulcan Science Academy. There are a great many intriguing subjects that I would like to study," Data went on. "Teaching is a possibility. I do enjoy my time volunteering at the school aboard the Enterprise."
Ever since coming aboard, Data had taken an interest in volunteering with the school. He assisted Keiko with the class garden, occasionally guest lectured for biology, chemistry, and physics courses, and did a weekly painting class for several age groups.
Data eased his grip a little in favour of rubbing small circles on Tasha's back.
"I do not know what my path will be. And I can only say that if I do outlive you and all of my friends, the absence of your presence can only be described as an immeasurable emptiness," Data continued.
"I'm so sorry," Tasha wept.
"But I take comfort in knowing that you and Geordi, Captain Picard, Commander Riker, all of my friends will live on in my memory banks," Data shared. "And, in a way, I will always carry a part of each of you with me."
"I don't want you to ever be alone," Tasha said in a shaky voice.
In a weird way, she felt guilty because the human lifespan couldn't come close to Data's near immortality.
Tasha knew it was a ridiculous notion. It certainly wasn't anything she had any control over. But it stung, nonetheless.
"I do not believe I will be lonely," Data responded.
He sat back so that he could look down at her.
Data cupped her face and thumbed away the tears the on her right cheek.
"It is a cold reality that in the grand scheme of the universe, our time together will be short," Data said gently. "But you have so enriched my life that I do not feel I will ever be lonely."
Since initiating their relationship, Data's development had progressed beyond what he ever could have imagined. And while he still did not have all the answers as to why he was undergoing such changes, he had embraced them.
"You have given me so much. You will always be with me," Data said.
Data pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. He stayed there for a moment. Data closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he made a memory – the subtle scent of lavender from her hair, the warm feel of where his hand was resting on her back, the softness of her skin.
"Data?" Tasha asked.
She was concerned her breakdown had touched a nerve.
"Please, do not move," Data requested.
"Are you alright?" Tasha asked.
"Please. May we stay like this for a moment?" Data repeated.
It wasn't that Tasha minded, but she was worried about Data's reaction.
"What can I do for you?" Tasha asked, hoping he would open up.
"Just be here," Data replied.
Tasha relaxed. She understood the need for physical reassurance. And if Data needed her to stay there, then she was more than willing to do so as long as necessary.
"Data-" Tasha tried again.
"Making a memory," Data answered.
He had anticipated her question.
"Because one day I will not be able to hold you like this," Data said.
After a few moments, Data pulled back.
Holding the sides of her face, they shared a slow kiss.
"And despite my ability to perfectly recall every sight and sound, each sensation, memory engrams could never properly capture these moments with you," Data shared.
As they settled down under the covers, Tasha relaxed.
It had been hard to get that off her chest – and they had only scratched the surface of processing such feelings.
But they could hash out their plans and feelings in their counselling sessions.
They had an important mission. They both needed rest.
And more than that, they both needed some quiet time in one another's arms.
"I don't say it often enough, but I'm so glad you're here," Tasha whispered.
"Me?" Data inquired.
"No, Worf," Tasha giggled.
"I am glad I am here as well," Data replied.
He snaked his arm under the back of her shirt, keen to feel her breathing and for more contact with her skin. Somehow, it felt more intimate.
"You feel nice," Data said.
"Hmm me?" Tasha replied with a yawn.
"Worf," Data said.
Data felt her chest shaking against his torso as she laughed quietly.
"You made a joke," she grinned.
"Was it funny?" Data asked, eager for feedback.
Data was terribly clever. While his sense of humour was unconventional, it wasn't lacking.
"You always make me laugh," Tasha responded.
She meant every word.
"And cry it would seem," Data said.
"Mmmm and think wicked thoughts that I know we can't start tonight," Tasha grinned against his shoulder.
Data felt Tasha's shoulders slump against him as she recalled their assignments for the next day.
"Or tomorrow," she lamented.
"We will make time," Data promised as he caressed the length of her spine.