Author's Note: Every story deserves a happy ending. I also can't resist foreshadowing. Dotted throughout this epilogue is the groundwork for what is to come in later instalments of this series.
-X-
Captain Louvois banged her gavel to call the courtroom to attention.
Data surveyed the room.
He was completely alone, sitting in the centre of a circular chamber. There was a bright light overhead – so bright it was blinding.
Though he was alone, Data felt as if he were surrounded by menacing shadows that clung to the edges.
Data turned back to the bench. Only this time it wasn't Captain Louvois – it was Bruce Maddox.
"The court has rendered a finding of property," Maddox grinned.
He banged the gavel.
Data gasped as he sat up in bed.
He clutched the sheet, reminding himself that he was safe in Tasha's bed.
Tasha's hand snaked out from under the covers and reached for his waist.
"Mmm, morning," she said as she snuggled up against him.
Data relaxed back against his pillow. He knew that his dream programme was trying to work through what happened. There would be nightmares – Deanna had warned him.
But he was confident that he could work through that during their sessions.
"What's wrong?" Tasha asked.
She could sense something was up.
For a moment, Data said nothing as he soaked in the feeling of waking up together.
"Nothing," Data replied with a small smile.
He reached for Tasha's hand, twisting his fingers into her own as he held it up to examine it.
"Nothing at all," Data said, eyeing the ring on her finger.
Tasha had become aware of the weight on her hand shortly after she'd awoken and realised he must have slipped away during the night to retrieve it from Captain Picard.
"I'm not ungrateful, just surprised you left," Tasha commented. "After all, you said you were going to hold me until I required sustenance the next morning."
"And you said the only important thing in this relationship was that we came back," Data reminded her. "I came back home."
He paused and brought her hand to his lips.
"I wanted you to wake up and enjoy this moment," Data confessed. "After all, I have waited a long time for it."
And there was a moment where I never thought it would come. Data thought.
They had woken up engaged. Their first morning with something tangible. It had taken months for them to figure out just what their relationship was – and even longer before Tasha was comfortable with any sort of label.
Now all that was in the past.
Waking up together felt different.
"At home?" Tasha asked.
His wording had caught her by surprise.
Data lifted his eyebrows as he considered her question.
While they both felt ready to move in with one another – they had been in disagreement for weeks about which one of their quarters would become 'home.'
Tasha caught his hesitation.
"It's not important," she assured him. "We'll figure it out."
She grinned and they shared a smooch before settling in under the sheets.
"What would you like to do today?" Tasha asked. "Your first day as a free man."
"Right now, I believe I would like to stay right here," Data said as his hand settled on the small of Tasha's back.
-X-
They had stayed in bed for an hour until Geordi paged them with an invitation to breakfast.
Geordi had even come to meet them on the lift.
"Deck four," Geordi ordered as the lift doors closed.
Data frowned.
"Geordi? The canteen is not-"
"We're not going to the canteen," Geordi said cryptically.
When they stepped through the door into Commander Riker's quarters, the room was full of life. The smell of fresh eggs and vegan sausage cooking on a portable range.
"Raktajino?" Worf offered as soon as they stepped inside.
Doctor Crusher and Worf were discussing the last romantic Klingon novel.
"It's certainly no Glory and Greatness," Beverly shrugged. "But I just think E'stra should have ended up with O'ntop and not Chancellor Ugrath."
Worf glowered.
"She was following her heart," Worf protested.
"O'ntop was a better lover," Beverly sighed.
On the other side of the sofa, Wesley and Sonya Gomez were deeply engrossed in a debate on the merits of Starbase 173's new power core upgrade.
Commander Riker was patiently tending to the cooktop as Deanna kept a watchful eye on their meal.
"Are they supposed to look like that?" she asked.
"It's called cooking," Riker said. "You gotta know when to lay it down."
"And when to pick it up apparently," Deanna said as she pointed to a burnt bit of sausage.
"Welcome to the club," Miles said as he approached the pair.
He leaned in close.
"Believe me, you don't want to start wedding planning," Miles said in a low voice.
Miles and Keiko were both very much in love – absolutely smitten with one another. But planning their big day had been a stress point.
"You know I've been thinking about that, and I've got some ideas," Geordi said.
Geordi was perhaps the most romantic of the bunch. Between his imagination and his affinity for romance, Geordi had spent considerable time dreaming up the perfect dates, romantic holidays, and wedding ideas.
"How do you feel about hot air balloons over Bavaria? Or a beachfront wedding on Risa?" Geordi asked.
He was practically giddy with excitement.
"Ooo! Ooo! A cruise down the Jokri river on Tavela Minor," Geordi said. "You could get married just after sunset when the iridescent currents start to glow."
Data and Tasha exchanged a panicked glance.
"Geordi, we are not getting married," Data said awkwardly.
The party came to a screeching halt. Everyone had heard the comment. Beverly and Worf stopped debating the merits of their romance novel. Sonya fumbled to set her hot chocolate down without spilling it.
A sausage slid off the end of Commander Riker's prong and fell back onto the cooktop.
"I-I'm sorry," Geordi stammered. "I shouldn't have assumed that-"
"We have agreed to make a commitment to one another," Data clarified as he reached for Tasha's hand. "But the tradition of marriage is not-"
"We make our own tradition," Tasha said, repeating her promise from the night before.
Tasha lifted her eyebrows as she eyed Data.
Has she...? Data wondered.
"What Data means is, we don't know what or when," Tasha said slowly. "Yet."
Data's eyes lit up.
"We will figure it out," Data said as he maintained her gaze.
-X-
As the spontaneous brunch went on, everyone seemed to relax.
Everyone that was – except Commander Riker.
For the entirety of the party, he'd been unusually quiet. He stayed in his corner, flipping sausages long after everyone was fed.
Data got the sense that Commander Riker was trying to avoid the other guests.
"Sir, this was kind of you to host," Data said.
"It was the least I could do after, well," Riker trailed off.
He dropped his head, pretending to be focused on the food below.
"Would you care to join us in a friendly game of cards?" Data offered.
Riker shook his head.
"I have no right to be there," Riker said.
He looked up at Data with a pained expression that belied just how deep the internal torment of the case had been.
"Gods, Data. I came this close to winning," Riker said. "I nearly cost you your life."
"Sir, had you refused then Captain Louvois would have ruled summarily against me," Data reminded him. "That action injured you and saved me."
Riker needed to hear that.
"I owe you my life," Data said.
"You're a wise man, my friend," Riker said.
It was the first time he'd genuinely smiled in days.
"Not yet, sir. But with your help, I am learning," Data replied.
The card game was in full swing when Captain Picard paged Tasha on her combadge.
"Sir?" Tasha replied.
"There is an incoming message for you from Starbase 173," Picard advised.
"Could you patch it in through here?" Tasha requested.
There was a momentary pause.
"Lieutenant, this is Captain Louvois. I'd like to see you in my office this afternoon at 14:00 hours," Louvois announced.
"A-acknowledged," Tasha replied, tapping her combadge.
"What do you think she wants?" Beverly asked.
Tasha's brow furrowed.
"I'm not sure," Tasha confessed.
There were a dozen possible reasons. Captain Louvois may have discovered her relationship with Data. Worse – Commander Maddox may have filed a formal report against her for failing to deliver the expected results.
Or a new complaint for violating Regulation 1138 on fraternisation.
-X-
Tasha arrived at 13:50 hours precisely.
She wanted to be early.
Her hands were sweating as she smoothed down the front of her uniform.
"No need to be nervous," Louvois said as she appeared in the corridor behind Tasha.
She jumped aside to allow Louvois to slip past into her office.
"Come in," Louvois said, waving her inside.
Tasha followed her in. At Louvois's direction, she plopped down in the nearest chair.
"Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?" Louvois offered.
"Um, no thank you," Tasha said.
Captain Louvois snagged a cup of Raktajino from her replicator and sat down behind her desk. She took a slow from her saucer as Tasha sat there sweating.
"It's a relief to have this case done and over with," Louvois said.
Tasha nodded in agreement.
"You're not here for a reprimand," Louvois said, sensing Tasha's discomfort.
Tasha was shocked.
Somehow that news was even more disconcerting.
"Lieutenant, I'll be straight with you – I think you should reconsider your decision to leave the JAG programme," Louvois said.
Tasha blinked in confusion.
"That was years ago," Tasha said, dismissing the idea.
"It's not my place, but think about it," Louvois encouraged. "You know a career change to the JAG office would be a lot safer than taking phaser fire or dodging disruptors."
Does she know? Tasha wondered.
"The hours are typically more stable than serving as a Bridge officer," Louvois went on.
Tasha nodded slowly.
She knew that Captain Louvois was correct. An office job would be much safer.
But give up the Enterprise? The assignment of a lifetime? Tasha thought with a hint of panic.
"I rather like being in the field," Tasha confessed.
"The JAG programme doesn't mean you have to leave that behind," Louvois said. "You still get that same thrill – just with fewer bruises."
Any posting would likely require travel – it was a necessity of life for most JAG officers. Albeit the travel was typically between various Federation worlds or Starfleet bases and ships.
Exploration and scientific discovery weren't a part of the job.
It meant trips into mysterious nebulas, first contact assignments, and strategic defensive missions wouldn't be on the agenda.
Though no more mapping missions. Tasha mused.
"Why did you leave the programme?" Louvois inquired.
Tasha hesitated. It seemed impolite to admit the reason she had quit was fear of turning into Captain Louvois herself.
"It just wasn't for me," Tasha replied.
"That was a very diplomatic answer," Louvois said.
She sat back and smirked.
"Jean-Luc made it sound like I'd scared you off," Louvois remarked.
Tasha blanched.
"It's alright," Louvois assured her.
She reached into the top drawer of her desk and pulled out an isolinear chip.
"Starfleet has recently launched an extension office for the JAG programme. It allows existing commissioned officers a chance to complete nearly two-thirds of the coursework via subspace classes," Louvois explained. "There are occasional testing requirements that can be completed at any of the certified Starbase testing facilities."
There were dozens of them dotted throughout the quadrant.
"Most of your previous coursework would carry over. There's still the matter of the final training segment that can only be completed at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco," Louvois explained. "But that's only six weeks."
She handed the isolinear chip across the desk to Tasha.
"You could be done in a year," Louvois said.
Tasha took hold of the chip and turned it over.
"It's the entrance examination files, reapplication paperwork, and programme information," Louvois said.
Tasha stared down at the chip in her hand. Life as a JAG officer would be everything Data wanted – stability, safety.
But Tasha wasn't sure she was ready to give it up. She couldn't just walk away – not when the Border War with the Cardassians was still in full force.
And Tasha still suspected there was a broader conspiracy involving the Romulans.
"Should you decide this is something you wish to pursue, you will require a letter of recommendation from a current ranking JAG officer," Louvois continued. "Something I would be honoured to write."
Tasha was at a loss for words.
"Anyone can study the law," Louvois went on. "Not everyone has your sense of morality, Lieutenant."
Phillipa meant every word. Tasha had done a remarkable job under extraordinary circumstances.
"If you want that family, this is something that might offer more solid footing," Louvois said with a knowing smile. "And Yar? Tell Jean-Luc he owes me dinner."
-X-
Tasha left Captain Louvois's office in a daze.
On her way out, she ran straight into Captain Picard.
"Tasha?" Picard asked.
"Sorry," she said before leaving without another word.
The door to Phillipa's office slid open and Jean-Luc stormed inside.
"If you've used the information I disclosed to you to reprimand her-" Picard warned. "Of all the underhanded, slimy things you've done in your career!"
He threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Where does it stop with you?" Picard fumed.
"Do you feel better now that you've got that out of your system?" Louvois asked.
Jean-Luc threw his head back and rolled his eyes.
"The audacity of your nonchalant attitude about-"
"I asked her to reconsider a legal career," Louvois said, stopping Picard mid-soliloquy.
Jean-Luc's posture changed. He dropped his arm and blinked.
"I advised it might be a more stable option if they want that family," Louvois shared.
"Oh," Jean-Luc said as his anger dissipated.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Dinner?" Picard offered.
"If you promise to pick your jaw up off the floor," Louvois replied.
-X-
At Data's suggestion, they had decided to try the Klingon restaurant that Commander Riker and Deanna had been at the first night they arrived at Starbase 173.
He'd tried to book time on the ice rink – but found it was full.
So they'd opted four a triple date night with Geordi, Sonya, Miles, and Keiko.
Tasha had initially been concerned about returning to base with Data – Bruce Maddox was still there, free to roam about. And Tasha wouldn't put it past him to try and intimidate Data.
But Data had assured her that he wanted to go.
Data was a free man.
A free man with all the rights of a Federation citizen.
And he wasn't about to let Bruce Maddox control his life or scare him off from doing the activities he wanted to try.
"Commander Riker recommended the pipius claw with the tarragon sauce," Geordi said. "And you know how I feel about seafood."
He nudged Sonya.
She'd been eager to come along – but had said very little.
In many ways, Sonya was still getting used to spending time with the senior officers. Geordi was one of them. As an Ensign, Sonya still felt out of her element.
She coped with her anxiety in two ways. She was either quiet as a mouse or talking so rapidly no one could keep up.
"I don't know about you, but I could devour a whole tray of that braised targ flank," Miles said.
His eyes followed a sizzling plate as one of the staff walked by to another table.
M'aotruk mushroom paella.
Bone-in Targ Ribeye with glazed plomleeks.
Smoked grouse with Mirabelle plums.
Data had no inkling where to start.
Under the table, Tasha gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. She could sense he was overwhelmed. Data flashed her a small smile.
"Anyone else notice that Security on the base seems a little tighter?" Keiko asked as two officers passed by the restaurant.
It was situated on the main promenade. The Klingon restaurant had large open windows that sat right along the walkway. It was great for people-watching.
However, Keiko was right.
There had been increased Security on the base.
"That's the third time they've passed by," Miles said.
"There seem to be more guards about tonight too," Geordi added.
"I did notice an increased Security presence at the checkpoint," Data commented.
Tasha had noticed it too – and it was making her nervous. Starfleet didn't suddenly double their Security presence without a reason.
"Whoa, hello," Geordi said.
His VISOR allowed him to spot a contingent of Security officers heading straight down the promenade – right in their direction.
Data cocked his head to the side as fear gripped his neural net.
Tasha turned and saw them coming.
Both Data and Tasha were immediately on high alert.
"That's a strike team," Tasha said quietly.
Data understood what that meant – it was a team designed to move in quickly when there was a concern that a suspect might escape, harm others, or destroy evidence.
Miles caught the look that passed between Data and Tasha.
"Keiko, why don't you and Ensign Gomez check out that Klingon art piece in the back of the restaurant?" Miles suggested.
He was hoping to get them out of the line of fire.
"What's going on?" Keiko demanded.
Data wasn't sure how to answer.
He feared that Starfleet had decided to simply ignore Captain Louvois's ruling. Surely they would come up with some excuse as for why the law didn't apply.
Data was no stranger to the conspiracy theories that had circulated about Starfleet Security. Black Flag directives, ships mysteriously disappearing, Romulan spies – Data had heard them all.
Data was suddenly afraid he might be the next person to simply 'un-exist.'
Tasha reached for Data's hand under the table.
"Go," she whispered.
The strike team was less than five metres away.
Everyone froze, sitting motionless as it approached.
There was a collective sense of relief when the team marched past the restaurant and proceeded down the promenade without incident.
"What do you think that's about?" Miles asked as he watched them go.
"I don't know," Tasha honestly answered.
Desperate to change the subject, Data decided to ask a question that had been weighing on his mind.
"What did Captain Louvois want to see you for?" Data asked.
Tasha froze momentarily before quickly recovering.
"Nothing," Tasha lied. "Just some wrap-up from the case. Loose ends and all. Nothing to be concerned with."
She wasn't ready to have that conversation with Data.
-X-
Bruce Maddox was drowning his sorrows over a bottle of aged whisky. He was seated behind his desk with his feet thrown up on the surface of the desk.
He was a third of the way into it as he flipped through his inbox.
A promotion from a Ferengi trader that wanted to sell four crates of self-sealing stem bolts.
Deleted.
A request from a former staffer for a recommendation.
Rejected.
A reply from Lieutenant Seevers turning down his offer for dinner and dancing.
Well that bitch is getting reassigned. Maddox thought.
He took another swig of whisky and then threw his tablet across the room. It impacted the wall and shattered.
Maddox had been trying to reach Admiral Walsh for hours. At first, the Admiral's staff aboard the Shepard had said he was in conference.
Now they weren't taking his hails at all.
Contacting Admiral Henry's office had been a bust.
And Haffley had disappeared right after the ruling.
Probably running back with his tail between his legs. Desperate to save his own arse. Maddox thought.
Before he could sink deeper in the depths of despair, Maddox's office door flew open.
A strike team of Security officers armed with phasers and ready for action burst inside. They were led by a petite Vulcan.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Maddox roared.
The Vulcan officer surveyed the room without a word. Then she turned her head to the side to address her second in command.
"Take everything," she ordered.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Maddox said, sitting up straight.
"Including him," the Vulcan instructed.
A team of forensic experts began cataloguing the entire contents of Maddox's office. They didn't bother with isolinear chips – they simply took the entire file storage hard drive. They seized his computer, his personal effects, and the contents of his desk.
One of them even set about sweeping up the remnants of his tablet.
The Vulcan officer knelt down and picked up a piece of the shattered tablet.
"Attempting to destroy evidence?" she asked.
"Evidence?" Maddox inquired. "Evidence of what exactly?"
She simply dropped the debris into a container without providing an answer.
"Am I being charged with a crime?" Maddox demanded.
The team continued to work without responding to him. In fact, they ignored him entirely as they ripped apart his office.
"Be careful with that!" Maddox snapped as one of the officers extracted a backup hard drive.
Maddox felt like his whole world was falling apart. His office was his sanctuary. Now all of his control was slipping through his fingers.
"You can't do this!" Maddox snarled. "I have rights!"
Two officers moved in and clasped magnetic restraints on his wrists.
"Get off me!" Maddox barked as he attempted to slap away their hands.
But he was no match for the strike team.
Once he was restrained, the Vulcan officer stepped over. She looked him up and down.
"I demand you tell me what this is about," Maddox said.
"You'll be transferred to a secure facility for questioning," the Vulcan said.
It wasn't an answer. And there was nothing more infuriating to Bruce Maddox. Though he frequently treated other people with such a practice, Maddox was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of it.
"About what?" Maddox asked. "Will somebody please tell me what is going on?"
There was an unmistakable panic in his voice.
"Starfleet can't do this!" Maddox cried.
"Starfleet already has," the Vulcan said.
"But I have rights," Maddox pleaded.
"Those rights were terminated," the Vulcan said. "Under Article 131 of the Espionage and Internal Security Act of 2311, you forfeited those rights when you became an agent for an enemy of the Federation."
Maddox's blood ran cold.
"Get him out of here," she ordered.
They drug Maddox kicking and screaming from his office. He'd even thrown out his feet in an effort to use the frame of the door for leverage.
"You think he'd be more composed," one of the officers remarked.
"Lieutenant Commander Oh," a Lieutenant said as she approached the Vulcan. "Admiral Henry is requesting an update."
"Advise Admiral Henry that the traitor is in custody," Oh said.
-X-
"So then we're standing in the canteen and he's trying to ask Graham if he wants to catch the concert," Geordi recounted. "And he was completely oblivious to the fact Graham was nibbling on Lotte's ear."
Everyone laughed.
Data looked alarmed.
"I thought the human practice of cannibalism had died out," Data remarked in surprise.
Tasha leaned in close and whispered something to Data.
His expression changed.
"Oh, I see," he said, now understanding the term. "Nibbling, necking. Snogging. Canoodling. The old Dracula bite."
Data was back to listing off synonyms in an effort to denote the new term to memory. It was a good sign that he was feeling alright.
"You're back," Geordi smiled.
Data cocked his head to the side.
"It's over," Geordi said.
"Something tells me not yet," Data said.
Geordi followed his line of sight out onto the promenade where the strike team from earlier was escorting none other than Bruce Maddox.
Maddox looked utterly defeated. Data watched in silence as they led Maddox past.
"What do you think it means?" Keiko asked.
"Whatever it is, I do not believe it is over," Data replied. "It would appear it is just getting started."
Tasha looped her arm through Data's as she clutched his sleeve.
"It doesn't involve us," Tasha said. "Let's be grateful for that."
-X-
Tasha stared at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth furiously. She couldn't wait to get into bed.
The Enterprise would be departing Starbase in forty-eight hours and that meant considerable work for Tasha. She was already feeling exhausted from the hearing. Being emotionally drained made her feel ten times more knackered than the most strenuous of workouts.
A moment later, Tasha emerged from the lavvy. She ruffled her wet hair as she flopped down in bed.
Data made a beeline past her.
"I will only be a moment," Data said as he snagged a clean flannel from the shelf next to the door.
He gave a quick peck on the cheek and dashed off.
Tasha was surprised – he usually wasn't so eager. But if that strangest thing to happen that day was Data rushing off to the lavvy, Tasha would count that as a win.
As Tasha climbed into bed, she grabbed her tablet and decided to catch up on the news. She'd been so consumed by the hearing that she hadn't been paying much attention.
She was also curious to see if any news of Data's hearing had made it to a broader audience.
-X-
Meanwhile, Data was in the lavvy with a freshly replicated toothbrush. Technically his oral cavity had the means to maintain itself. There was an antiseptic cleaning programme that ran every three hours to keep his mouth free of debris and bacteria.
Data wet his toothbrush and popped it into his mouth. He was thrilled by the minty flavour.
Once he was thoroughly satisfied with his scrubbing action, Data spat out the product and rinsed his mouth.
Then he smiled and leaned in close to inspect his work in the mirror.
Data reached down for his brush and began combing back his hair.
-X-
Tasha scowled as she read through the latest report from the Federation News Service. In the dark, the screen was the only thing illuminating the room.
News of Data's case hadn't been reported. In fact, the news coverage had been overrun with word that the Vulcan attempts to schedule formal talks with the Romulan Star Empire were proceeding better than expected.
Buried in a few column inches on the fourth page was a story about the First Officer of the Aeneas vanishing during a transport mission.
For Tasha, it was a bitter reminder of the conspiracy Captain Rixx had warned was at play.
Another mysterious death.
Coupled with the incident earlier on Starbase 173, it gave Tasha an icky feeling.
Tasha reminded herself that they weren't involved. In fact, she had been directly ordered by Captain Picard not to investigate any possible Romulan activity on the Enterprise.
They were safe.
They were finally safe.
Maddox was in custody. They didn't know how or why – but it was irrelevant. Maddox was gone from their lives and Data had finally been granted the full rights and status as a Federation citizen.
As she skimmed through, Tasha checked the time.
It wasn't like Data to be gone for so long.
Worried that Data was silently struggling with the weight of the hearing, Tasha decided to check on him.
-X-
"More than the simple words, I try to say," Data sang.
Tasha stopped in the doorway. Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned against the wall and watched in astonishment.
"I only live to love you more each day," Data crooned as he combed his hair.
Tasha couldn't help but smirk as she watched him.
"Longer than always is a long, long, long time," Data went on.
He was singing to himself in the mirror as he got ready for bed. Data did a wee turn and stopped as soon as he noticed Tasha.
"Don't stop on my account," Tasha said.
Data's bioplast couldn't show blush – but it was evident from his reaction that he was feeling bashful.
"Data, what's wrong?" Tasha pressed.
"Nothing," Data replied honestly.
Tasha looked sceptical.
"I simply wanted to take my time. Ensure there is no hair out of place as it were," Data confessed.
Data wasn't feeling down. He was energised. He felt alive.
"Tonight is special," Data explained.
He dropped his head and shrugged coyly.
"It is our first night together. Engaged," Data confessed.
"We were engaged last night," Tasha reminded him with a smirk.
"Right," Data nodded.
He was beaming, grinning like an idiot.
Tasha scanned the counter as she spied the toothbrush, the aftershave, the cologne.
"You never needed to do all that before," she said as she stepped up behind him.
Tasha snaked her arms around Data's waist and nuzzled against his back.
"I wanted to look good for you," Data admitted.
Tasha's head popped up as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She gripped his chin, forcing Data to look at himself in the mirror.
"You always look good," Tasha said.
Data made to move away, but Tasha wasn't backing down from this.
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" Tasha asked.
"Myself," Data shrugged.
Data averted his gaze to where Tasha's head was resting on his shoulder.
"And you," Data added.
His expression changed as he noted the way she was studying his face.
"Tasha, why are you eyeing me as if you have just returned from a workout and I am a jar of pincha peppers?" Data asked softly.
Tasha bit her lip, realising she had been caught.
"Because maybe you're my favourite thing to nibble," she said against his ear.
Data's artificial pulse skipped a beat.
"I'll be in bed whenever you finish," Tasha whispered.
She gave him a quick peck on the lips.
"Hmm, minty," she smiled.
Tasha slipped away without another word, leaving Data stunned in front of the mirror.
-X-
Data stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. Tasha was sitting up in bed reading a book. She glanced up over the edge of the book as her eyes travelled up over the length of his lithe frame.
She was exhausted. But her face lit up and Data was pleased he had taken the time to tousle his hair.
It may have been counterproductive after brushing it – but the way Tasha had reacted made it worth the extra time.
Tasha set the book down and pat the empty spot next to her.
"Come to bed," she said.
Data slipped in under the cool sheets. Tasha ordered the computer to kill the lights and lower the ambient temperature in the room.
Tasha rolled over and snuggled against him as she planted a series of lazy kisses up the side of his neck and over his jawline.
"Perhaps you should get some sleep?" Data suggested.
Tasha stopped.
Data could see Tasha was knackered. Her eyes were sleepy, and she was fighting to find the energy reserves to stay awake.
"You are tired," Data observed.
"Sweetheart, I'm fine," Tasha assured him as she moved in close.
Tasha was completely wiped. But Data had gone to so much trouble. And what he had shared moments earlier indicated that he thought tonight was special. Tasha didn't have it in her to shatter that expectation.
"I know you didn't go to all this trouble just to look good while you sleep," Tasha said as she nuzzled against his nose. "And may I just say that you clean up rather nice."
"You are feeling obligated to perform for my benefit," Data said, confronting the matter directly.
Tasha opened her mouth to protest but Data put a finger to her lips to silence her.
"You have never needed to do that with me," Data said, echoing Tasha's words from earlier.
Without uttering another word, an understanding passed between the two of them. There was a quiet, domestic bliss about it.
Tasha relaxed and sat back.
Data gave her a soft, unhurried kiss.
"Shall we go to bed, my dear?" Data suggested.
"Yes," Tasha replied.
Once they were nestled under the sheets spooned against one another, Tasha keened as Data gently scratched her back.
"Tonight is special simply for the fact that we are now official," Data said.
He paused.
"Well, we are now taking a step toward becoming official," Data clarified.
"The start of the rest of our lives," Tasha said.
Data reached over until his hand came to rest on her abdomen. Tasha rested her own hand above his.
"The rest of our lives," Data repeated in awe.
-X-
Three days later, Data and Tasha had still not officially taken any time to celebrate their new engagement. Between their own duties that had been on backlog during the hearing and preparing the Enterprise to depart from Starbase 173, the two had run themselves ragged.
Crew rotation had been completed. The new members that had joined were now settled. And every piece of inventory for the resupply had gone through a rigorous inspection process.
Data had even found time (somehow) to put his own personal quarters back to rights.
"Oh thank the gods," Tasha said as the door slid open.
Data stepped into her quarters bearing two sacks of takeaway from Ten Forward.
"There is extra Dhansak curry and kulfi," Data said as he held up the sacks.
"I could jump you," Tasha remarked.
"Would you prefer that I put the food in statis?" Data offered.
Tasha hesitated. A part of her was tempted. But the sound of her rumbling stomach crying out for food was difficult to set aside.
"We should eat," Data advised.
They opted to skip the table and ate on the sofa together instead. Data sat at one end as he caught up on the messages in his inbox while he dove into a bowl of korma.
His eyes flitted back and forth, skimming the contents while he relished in the sensation of Guinan's exquisite cuisine. Flavours of coconut milk and almond mixed with coriander and cardamom. A part of Data regretted that it had taken him so many years to discover his sense of taste.
Even at the rate he was going, there were far too many flavours and blends that he would never get to sample -not even in a lifetime.
On the other side of the sofa, Tasha was slowly working her way through her own dinner. She was chewing slowly as she absorbed the information on the page. Ever since her encounter with Captain Rixx (and his warning about Romulan spies), Tasha had paid careful attention to the news.
"You know a part of me cannot seem to shake the notion that Starfleet is imperfect," Data said suddenly. "I suppose I have always known that. But I wanted to believe that we as an organisation only made mistakes with the best of intentions."
The hearing process and Starfleet's response had shaken Data's faith.
It had shaken Tasha too.
For both of them, Starfleet was the only home they had ever truly known. Seeing this new side of the organisation first-hand gave them pause.
"Knowing that men like Bruce Maddox and Admiral Walsh are still out there, looming as a threat," Data went on. "Who knows how many other people they have hurt?"
He sighed.
"And yet they remain free," Data lamented. "They manipulated Starfleet. Abused their positions. And they can do so again."
"Or not," Tasha said as her eyes narrowed.
Data cocked his head to the side in confusion.
Tasha glanced up from her PADD and gave him a hard look.
She held it out and wordlessly indicated for Data to take it.
Nine Arrested in Romulan Conspiracy.
Data was shocked as he read the headline. He looked over at Tasha, down at the tablet, and then back to Tasha.
"Read on," Tasha urged.
"Nine Starfleet officials were arrested on Stardate 42531.7," Data read aloud.
He paused to skim through the contents.
"Though not all names have been released, we can confirm at the time of this posting that Admiral Josiah Walsh, Captain Elia Quincy, Captain Shuron Zirik, and Commander Bruce Maddox are among those taken into custody," Data said.
He blinked, astonished as he processed the information.
Suddenly, he frowned.
"What's wrong?" Tasha asked. "This is a good thing."
"Commander Maddox is a predator. An abusive, manipulative predator," Data said. "But I do not believe he is a Romulan conspirator."
Something about it didn't sit right with Data.
"Maybe he wanted to sell you to the Romulans?" Tasha suggested.
She shuddered at the thought.
Data shook his head.
"Maddox's motivation for my captivity was always personal," Data explained. "He would do anything, risk anything to have me back in his possession. I do not believe he would so easily trade me away – even for considerable compensation."
Data's brow furrowed.
"And though we know little of Romulan technology, historically, the Romulans have always eschewed artificial intelligence," Data advised. "Aside from militarisation, Romulans tend to shun technology in all other aspects of their life."
The Romulan Star Empire was even reluctant to use replicator technology to solve its impending food insecurity crisis. While replicators existed – and were used to feed Romulans aboard their ships. On Romulus and other Romulan-occupied worlds, many of the lower classes were forced into service as agricultural labourers in order to feed the higher ranks of Romulan society.
Their medical technology was just as advanced as the Federation, yet many Romulans opted for more traditional healing methods.
It was almost as if they were afraid of technology – an empire of luddites.
"Tasha, what if this has something to do with all those mysterious disappearances? All the transfers? The base closings?" Data asked. "What if this is simply another step in some broader Romulan conspiracy?"
Tasha was silent.
"You know I was ordered not to pursue that theory," Tasha reminded him.
Data had been present during Captain Picard's previous bizarre outburst on the subject months earlier.
"The important thing is, they're gone. And they can't hurt you anymore," Tasha said. "We're safe."
They had no inkling that Bruce Maddox and Admiral Josiah Walsh had merely been patsies – fall men orchestrated by another shadowy manipulator.
Or that poor Commander Haffley – who had tried to do the right thing by coming forward in the end – was now on his way to a prison that Starfleet didn't even acknowledge the existence of.
That agent had sought to shut down Starfleet's efforts to study Data. It had been only too convenient that a whistle-blower had emerged with information that could hurt Admiral Henry and Starfleet Security.
Accusations of abuse of power, nepotism, and inappropriate research would only soil the good name of Starfleet Security.
It was fortunate this shadowy figure had found a way to silence those rumours while simultaneously taking the heat off themselves.
After all, they had all the evidence they needed to plant a plausible trail that damned men like Bruce Maddox as Romulan conspirators.
The Romulan agent calling the shots had selected the targets carefully. Men like Bruce Maddox and Josiah Walsh didn't have friends – they ruled by fear and intimidation.
And that meant there were no allies jumping to their defence.
"Bruce Maddox is a horrible man, but he does not deserve to be condemned as a traitor if these allegations are untrue," Data declared.
"I'm sure there will be an investigation," Tasha said quickly as she returned her attention to her box of takeaway. "We have to trust that Starfleet Security will do its job."
"The same Starfleet Security that did such a fine job in my case?" Data asked.
Tasha set her takeaway box down on the coffee table. She flopped back and groaned as she massaged her temples.
"This is different," Tasha said.
She turned and looked at Data, wordlessly pleading with him to let it go.
"Please," she requested. "Please promise me you won't go digging into this."
If this was part of the grander Romulan conspiracy they both suspected, Tasha knew that it would only be a matter of time before Data would be at risk. Poking around in such a matter could result in him being reassigned, captured, or destroyed.
"It's not worth it," Tasha urged. "Not when you could be hurt. And not for men like him."
Data was conflicted.
"Us or them," he said with a hint of disapproval.
Us or them.
It was the argument Starfleet had used against Data. It was the same logic Starfleet had used to justify destroying a beautiful new lifeform discovered months earlier at the Velara III terraforming colony project.
Tasha climbed into Data's lap and rested her forehead against his.
"I can't lose you," Tasha confessed. "I won't lose you, not trying to save some slimy maggot like Bruce Maddox."
She cupped Data's face.
"Us or them is sometimes a tactical necessity. What happened to you, what happened on Velara was wrong. But with men like Maddox, there is no redemption," Tasha pleaded.
"When we began this relationship, we made a promise that we would never allow our personal feelings to interfere with our duty," Data reminded her.
"This is different," Tasha argued. "This isn't just about our personal feelings. This is about your safety."
Tasha sat back. Her fingers ghosted across the side of his face.
"Forgive me, the irony of this moment is unexpected," Data said.
Tasha didn't understand.
"That you should be the one cautioning me not to rush into a potentially dangerous situation," Data said with a small smile.
"One way or another there are Romulans hands behind this," Tasha declared. "There's nothing potentially dangerous about it at all – it is dangerous."
For a few moments they stared at one another until Data's face softened.
"I have learned on the Bridge to never argue with you on a tactical matter," Data said.
Tasha collapsed against him in relief.
-X-
Six Months Later: Rura Penthe
"Take it away," Maddox said.
He turned his head away from the door to his cell and closed his eyes.
The Counsellor assigned to his mandatory sessions had advised that he would grow accustomed to life in prison in time.
His Counsellor had advised that he should look at life from a new angle, to be grateful that in recent decades, Rura Penthe had opted to reform its prison – allowing individual cells, recreation facilities, and no more mining.
How enlightened. Maddox had snarled.
She had also encouraged him to find a hobby.
Bruce Maddox wasn't entirely sure how useful a hobby would be given that he was only permitted two hours of free time a day. He had the option of sitting in a supervised room where he could read from the galaxy's worst library and it's limited selection, workout, or paint.
He wasn't permitted access to Federation computers.
Nor was Maddox allowed to keep personal effects in his cell.
Even his toothbrush was confiscated each night and returned in the morning. He was permitted a mirror - but it was nothing more than a bitter reminder of the man he had once been.
His letters went unanswered, and Maddox suspected they were being stopped and destroyed. He figured they wouldn't admit it because it was one of the only things keeping him sane.
Hope was like a drug when one was trapped inside a box with nothing but one's mind.
There had been no trial.
Under the Espionage and Internal Security Act of 2311, Starfleet had simply locked him away as a suspected foreign agent. They could hold him indefinitely as a matter of 'security.'
The very word made Maddox's skin crawl.
And after six months of this treatment, Maddox was resolved that he would emerge triumphant. He was the leading cyberneticist. He was a well-known speaker.
Men like that didn't simply vanish without questions.
Except Noonian Soong. Maddox thought bitterly.
When he envisioned emulating Soong's life, disappearing wasn't part of the plan.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce Maddox could see a shadow cast on the floor. The guard was still standing there in front of his cell.
"I said take it away," Maddox hissed.
He wasn't in the mood to eat.
Maddox turned his head to tell off the guard but stopped.
"Who the hell are you?" Maddox demanded.
There was a stout man leaning against the wall inside his cell. Between his fine red velvet attire with gold trim and premium leather boots, Maddox knew this was no guard, interrogator, or counsellor.
In fact, it was the first person that wasn't prison staff that Maddox had seen in six months' time.
He wasn't even allowed access to communicate with other prisoners.
"My name isn't important," the man said. "Let's just say I'm a fan of your work."
Maddox scoffed.
"Well I hate to break it to you, but I'm not working at the moment," Maddox replied.
"I know," the man said with an air of amusement.
He began to pace back and forth along the wall as he twirled the gaudy ring on his short, stubby finger. Everything about him screamed he was dangerous. Though short in stature, he radiated an aura of power and control.
The man had unusual markings along the left side of his face – almost like a tattoo.
Trill? Kriosian? Zibalian? Maddox couldn't quite tell.
He'd never bothered much to learn the differences between the various humanoid species.
"Why are you here? I'm not permitted guests," Maddox said.
The man smirked.
"I think you'll find that money has a way of opening doors," the man replied.
He stopped and studied the ceiling and walls of the cell.
"Even in your Federation which claims to be above such ideas, beyond the temptation of wealth," the man said, waving his arms dismissively. "There are still plenty of people motivated by the thought of slipping something shiny into their pockets."
Maddox smirked. He couldn't disagree with that.
"You need a benefactor," the man said.
"If you're here because you think I can build an android like Soong-" Maddox began to warn.
He wanted to check expectations before he got involved with someone so dangerous.
The man shook his finger.
"I'm a man of refined taste. These boots? Made from the last Rigellian Saltwater Crocodile in existence," the man said, indicating to his fine footwear.
He twirled in place, showing them off.
"When I drink whisky, I only drink four-hundred-year-old single malt," the man shared. "Even you can't afford that."
The man chuckled at the thought. It was something Maddox both admired and feared. This man was sending a clear signal indicating this was no partnership – there was an obvious hierarchy.
"You see Mr Maddox, I never buy a replica. I have no use for something fabricated to serve as an imitation," the man explained. "As a collector, I only deal in originals."