The Complication

Nature Boy

I wanted to add a special plug here – if you use Twitter please, please go give our girl Denise Crosby some love & words of support! She tweeted on Feb 13 about how she would like to talk to the powers that be about making some sort of Tasha Yar story/backstory happen. (IKR?! – squee!) 

She also tweeted about feeling left out with all the Picard hype and how it was a bit of bummer that she wasn't included in Picard. We know there's some sort of mention/tribute to the character in S3, but certainly not what all of us Tasha-stans would hope for.

So please (if you can) go give her some love on that tweet and let her know that there's still an audience that adores the character she brought to life! <3

-X-

Author's Note: Okay. I lied. This is now four parts. When I hit 26k words I knew I had to start making cuts and split into two. (Next chapter coming tonight - final formatting now).

These next two chapters are the conclusion of the Schizoid Man arc. This is Ira's swan song. He has risked everything and cannot bear the thought of falling short now.

I do not want to make excuses for Ira's behaviour. He refused treatment and made the choice to invade Data. However, this is largely driven by his disease. The damage caused by Darnay's disease is still affecting his mind and his ability to think rationally.

This is a dangerous situation compounded by his chauvinistic & arrogant personality.

Please be warned: This chapter contains violence that may be triggering for some.

You're probably wondering "When do Data & Tasha finally get a break?" They do! This has always been a story about love, found family, and happy endings. And I try to balance the angst & fluff so as not to oversaturate either. We're moving toward the height of the Conspiracy arc and it involves a lot of action, plot, and political intrigue.

In fact, it will be months before either Data or Tasha is subject to any sort of serious personal harm again - Data's encounter with the Iconian device when we hit Contagion and later Tasha's encounter with a rather fiesty orange kitten....

-X-

Hero Worship is our next arc. And while the circumstances of Timothy's rescue are tragic, it's a lovely, fluffy chance for Data to connect with someone in a way that makes him realise he has a lot to offer as a parental figure.

This stirs up some strong feelings in Data...

As always, I am overwhelmed by your support! Thank you for all your feedback, comments, messages, fanart, and theories. Restores my faith in humanity!

-X-

Without warning the door flew open and Tasha scrambled to cover herself up.

"I wasn't, um, I was just-" she stammered, hiding under the sheet.

The sound of warm, familiar laughter filled the room.

Tasha lowered the sheet just far enough to peek out.

"I forgot to ask how you like your eggs," Will Riker said.

Tasha blanched. He was wearing a short dressing gown and a beaming smile.

"I hope you're hungry," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

A long, slow whine escaped from Tasha's throat as fell back against the pillow.

What have I done?

Blood was pounding in her ears. Her chest was tight.

"I made waffles too," Will said, hoping to entice her out from under the covers.

"Avert your eyes," Tasha instructed.

"Tasha, why don't you stay here and I'll bring-"

"Avert your eyes," Tasha repeated in a dangerously low voice.

Clutching the bedsheet tight to her body, Tasha tip-toed out of bed in search of her clothing. She was dismayed to find nothing. Tasha's panic swelled as each new inch of floor revealed no trace of her uniform.

"Spot of trouble?" Riker teased.

With limited options, Tasha unceremoniously threw open Riker's closet.

"I'll just um.. bring these back," Tasha squeaked as she tried to slip past Will.

He couldn't help but laugh as she attempted to sneak out in his 'Visit Alaska' tee and a pair of his drawstring sleep pants. Given the difference in their size, Tasha was practically swimming in them.

She had to hold the waistband on the pants just ensure they stayed upright.

And with such long trousers, Tasha was having a hard time walking.

"Tasha, wait," Riker called after her.

"What did you say to her?" Deanna demanded.

In her rush for the door, Tasha tripped head over heels at the sound of Deanna's voice.

She pulled herself up and turned to the table in the corner. Deanna waved back over a warm mug of hot chocolate.

In her pyjamas.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Deanna said with a smile.

Oh gods. What have I done? Tasha thought for a second time.

Deanna's face fell. She could immediately sense that Tasha was full of regret for a night she couldn't remember.

"Why don't we talk over a nice cup of Raktajino?" Deanna suggested.

-X-

Twelve Hours Earlier

"No, no, no," Will Riker said as he guided Tasha off the lift.

"Sir-"

"Will," he insisted. "I'm here as your friend, not your CO."

"Fine. Will," Tasha said. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. But I'd really rather just be by myself."

"You shouldn't drink alone," Will said.

He knew Tasha well enough to know that this emotionally turbulent afternoon would no doubt be best forgotten at the bottom of a bottle.

"Besides, I've got Romulan ale," Will said, proudly shaking the bottle.

He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I won't tell the Security Chief if you won't," Will teased.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate this stuff?" Tasha said.

"Oh! Well I've got-"

"Give it here," Tasha said, swiping it out of his hands.

She threw her head back and took a long swig. Tasha shuddered at the sour taste.

"Come, let's take a stroll through the Arboretum," Riker suggested, offering Tasha his arm.

Tasha hesitated.

Riker suddenly realised the Arboretum was probably a poor choice. It was one of Data's favourite places on the ship.

"Scratch that. I hate plants," Will lied. "Why don't we head down to deck twenty-nine? Hmm? There's a big viewscreen that overlooks the... Tasha?"

"I know the spot," Tasha said sadly.

She reasoned it mattered not where they went – the ghost of Data's memory would still be lingering throughout the ship.

Will snapped his fingers.

"I know a perfect little spot in the Jefferies tubes and I guarantee you've never been there," Will said.

In truth, it was a special place where Will liked to sneak off to when he needed a moment alone.

Only Tasha didn't seem convinced.

"And what do you think people are going to say if they find us alone in a Jefferies tube with a bottle of Romulan ale at this time of night?" Tasha remarked.

"What do you want to do?" Riker asked in response.

"I want to be able to close my eyes tonight and sleep without dreaming," Tasha shared.

-X-

Two hours later, Tasha and Will were safely planted on the sofa in his quarters.

"Gods this stuff is lousy," Tasha said as she downed the last of the Romulan ale.

She set the bottle down on the coffee table and was grateful it was finally empty.

"You know when we liberated G'kantal, we found stockpiles of this stuff. They use it to bribe contacts in the Federation," Tasha explained.

She paused, lost in a memory.

"They had cases of it. Row upon row all stored in these underground tunnels," Tasha went on.

"You were on G'kantal?" Riker asked, returning from the far side of the room with a bottle of whisky.

Tasha nodded.

"Mmm, almost a year," Tasha said.

Riker set down their drinks and was surprised as Tasha immediately took a long drink. He had heard she could hold her liquor – but even Will was shocked at how well she managed.

Though he reasoned that anyone who survived G'kantal had more cause than most to drink. Will had been fortunate that his career had been largely secluded from the Border Wars.

When Will had first accepted his assignment to the Enterprise, he spent considerable time reviewing the service records and personnel files of his fellow senior officers.

He recalled feeling stunned at the amount of information redacted from Tasha's file.

Out of nowhere, Tasha laughed.

"None of us had eaten a proper meal in months. We were living on chalk patties and saltbush root, anything we could scrape up. And the worst bread you've ever tasted. We used to fry it in machine oil to kill the weevils," Tasha chuckled. "But when we found those cases of Romulan ale, well.."

She glanced over at Will.

"We did our best to make them lighter," Tasha concluded with a smirk.

She was falling back on humour as a shield.

And for a time it worked.

Tasha and Will swapped stories about their early days in the Academy, the worst food they'd ever eaten, and their mutual love of fishing.

Things were going great until Tasha stepped into an emotional minefield.

"Last time we were on Earth I got to go for real," Tasha said. "Data and I stayed at this-"

She stopped.

The memory of their trip to Earth was a particularly sore subject. Starfleet officers did not receive salaries. Because their basic needs, entertainment, and hobbies were all provided, there was no need to pay them a regular wage.

For most Federation citizens, the concept of currency was abstract.

But that didn't mean currency wasn't still in use. Plenty of businesses offered goods and services that were unique, special, or more convenient for a price.

Twice a year, Starfleet officers were allotted a disbursement of Federation credits they could exchange for such goods or for different currency.

Prior to their trip, Tasha had a relatively small (but sizeable) sum she'd been saving. Tasha had spent nearly all of that to make Data's trip to Earth happen. Between the accommodations, souvenirs, travel expenses, and gifts, she was left skint.

Tasha had never questioned it. She'd wanted to give Data that experience – regardless of the cost. In fact, she had been embarrassed she couldn't do more for him.

Tasha didn't care about the money. She was upset with herself. In Tasha's mind, she had allowed herself to become so emotionally invested that she had betrayed the tenants of her Turkanan faith.

She was humiliated that she'd been vain enough to believe in happy endings - not when love could only end in pain.

But it felt real.

Real enough that Tasha had allowed herself to dream.

For a moment, she wondered when Data first knew he wanted to end their liaison. Was it before or after she had agreed to lose herself in the moonlight with him?

It was the most sacred act on Turkana and something she had only ever shared with Data.

On instinct, Tasha reached for the ring on her neck.

Oh right. She realised.

Riker reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"It's going to be alright," he said. "I'm sure you two will be back together in no time."

Tasha did not immediately react. She glanced down at her fingernails.

"Geordi will find the answer," Riker added.

"And if he doesn't?" Tasha asked.

"I am sure that whatever is happening, Data will see reason. He'll come around," Riker answered.

Will Riker was a hopeless romantic. He was still clinging to hope that this would all work out in the end.

"And I should be grateful then, huh?" Tasha asked a little more defensively than Riker had anticipated.

Tasha lifted her head to meet Will's eyes.

"Because clearly Data is the best thing to ever happen to me, right? So I should just forget everything that happened in the last few days and thank my lucky stars if he'll have me back?" Tasha snapped.

She glanced down at the drink in her hand, swirling the amber liquid around the rim of the glass.

"I know I'm no Deanna, but I'm not a fucking Horta," Tasha said, her voice cracking.

Tasha turned away toward the wall in an effort to hide that she was about to cry.

"Hey," Will said, slipping over to sit next to her. "Of course you're not Deanna. You're Tasha Yar."

Somehow his effort to lift her spirits made Tasha feel even worse.

"Don't compare yourself to Deanna. You're both amazing women in your own right," Will said.

He reached to pull Tasha back, but she pushed away his hand.

"You're a beautiful woman and anyone would be lucky for the chance to have your affections," Will said.

"You don't have to try and cheer me up with platitudes," Tasha said.

Riker sat back far enough to give her space.

"I meant what I said, T," Riker replied in earnest. "I say this with all honesty – I thought about it."

Tasha rolled her eyes.

"Will, really. You don't have to do this," Tasha said.

"I mean it!" Riker insisted.

Tasha shot him a sceptical look.

"No offense – but you would have sex with a replicator if it were sentient," Tasha said. "And in all the time we've known each other, you've never asked."

Will felt awful.

"Tasha, I never had the courage to ask," Will confessed.

Tasha closed her eyes and laughed, shaking her head.

"Seriously. I thought you'd laugh," Will said before adding, "guess I was right."

"I get what you're trying to do," Tasha said.

Her eyes were starting to grow heavy as the alcohol took effect.

"Come on. You've had the dream," Riker said, playfully punching her arm.

Tasha shrugged and shook her head. She didn't follow.

"You. Me. An away mission gone awry. Trapped in cave somewhere," Will said.

He dropped his voice.

"Alone."

Tasha laughed.

"Mmm hmm," she agreed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Will sighed.

"I knew you wouldn't take me seriously," Will said.

Tasha whipped around.

"So if I were to saunter over in your direction and bat my eyelashes you would have given me a second look?" Tasha teased.

"More than a second look," Will answered.

Will froze and Tasha turned, throwing herself onto his chest with melodramatic flair.

"And if I had come to you one night and said, 'take me, Will Riker' you would have scooped me up into your arms and carried me off to bed?" Tasha went on.

"I usually just say hello," Will said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

Tasha turned, closing in on him like a cat that had cornered her prey. Her eyes were slightly glazed, and her speech was starting to slur.

"And we would have spent some glorious night making love to one another?" Tasha asked, fluttering her eyelashes as she pretended to primp and preen.

She stopped, hovering just inches from his lips.

"I'm right here, Will Riker," Tasha said in a low voice. "Just comfortably drunk enough to dance."

"No," Will said.

"HA!" Tasha exclaimed in triumph. "I knew it!"

She sat back and poked him squarely in the chest.

"I knew it!" she repeated, collapsing in a fit of laughter.

Only Will Riker didn't find it funny.

Tasha stopped giggling when Will grabbed her hand.

"No, I would never do that to you," Will said.

Will threw his arm around Tasha and pulled her in close to the crook of his arm.

"Because you're my friend and I respect you," Will said. "And I know right now that you're feeling pretty low because what Data said was cruel. And he couldn't be more wrong."

Tasha sniffled. She realised it wasn't just a line.

"But if you had never gotten together with Data. If I wasn't such a coward. If this whole thing tonight hadn't happened... if you weren't emotionally compromised," Will said.

Tasha started to cry as he rocked them back and forth.

"And if you weren't drunk," Will added.

In spite of the tears, Tasha laughed.

"Or a bloody Rangers fan," Riker growled, referencing their friendly Parrises Squares rivalry.

Tasha choked.

"Please don't make me laugh," she sobbed.

Will threw his arms around Tasha and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I would in a heartbeat, Tasha," Will whispered.

He paused, feeling the necessity to try and cheer her up.

"Tell me one thing, T," Riker asked. "Do you really have a tattoo of-"

"Don't make me laugh!" Tasha warned, crying.

Tasha tried to pull away, but Will kept a firm grip. He didn't need her stumbling into anything.

"Shhh," he said. "It's alright."

"No," she sobbed, trying to break free.

"Aww, come now. Why are you still crying? Hmm?" Will asked.

Suddenly, Tasha's entire body went stiff.

"Tasha?" Riker prompted.

"I peed," she squeaked.

-X-

Present

Tasha looked back and forth from Deanna to Will.

"So we didn't-"

"No," Will said.

Tasha took a long, slow breath as she worked up the courage to ask the next question on her mind.

"And we didn't-" she trailed off, pointing between the three of them.

"No," Will and Deanna answered in unison.

Tasha visibly relaxed.

"But-"

Will winced as Deanna elbowed him.

"I was going to say if you wanted to double date sometime after all this business is settled. You know, me and D with you and-"

Will stopped himself before he said 'Data.'

"I appreciate the offer," Tasha responded. "But I don't see that happening in the future."

Before they could speak further, the comms system chimed.

"All senior officers report to the Observation Lounge," Captain Picard requested.

"That's our cue," Deanna remarked.

"Um," Tasha said, tugging at her oversized tee.

"I threw your uniform into the garment reprocessor," Deanna explained.

By the time she'd reached Will's quarters after his urgent SOS, Tasha had gotten sick all over herself and Will.

Deanna had wasted no time in getting her stripped and into the tub. She'd stayed with her all night to make sure she was alright.

-X-

The Night Before

Tasha shivered as she climbed under the covers.

"Tasha? Why don't you put something on?" Deanna said, offering her a pair of her own pyjamas that she kept in Will's room.

"Too cold," Tasha said, her teeth chattering.

Having been forced from the warmth of the bath, Tasha simply wanted to stay under the covers.

After placing several towels in strategic locations, Deanna climbed into bed. She sat up against the headboard. Prepped for a long night, Deanna settled into one of her westerns.

Tasha threw her arm over Deanna's legs and snuggled up close against her hip.

"Is that what slumber parties are like?" Tasha asked.

Deanna couldn't help but smile.

"Well usually if someone throws up at a slumber party it's because they've had too much cake," Deanna said.

"Oh," Tasha replied, worried.

She bit her lip.

"I guess I'm not very good at this," Tasha said with a soft sigh.

Deanna set her book down on her lap.

"In your defence, how many sleepovers have you actually been too? Not counting away missions," Tasha added quickly.

"None," Tasha replied.

"I would say that you are doing just fine for your first slumber party," Deanna replied.

Tasha looked up and smiled. Suddenly, her smile faltered.

"I don't have to paint anybody's toes, do I?" Tasha asked in a panicked whisper.

"No. I did mine earlier," Deanna assured her.

-X-

Present

Jean-Luc's lips thinned.

Geordi's progress was less than impressive. Spirits were low as the Geordi filled the team (minus Data) in on their report.

The team had worked through the night running a full series of tests and simulations. They reviewed all of their available information from Data's earlier scans.

Then they reviewed it again.

They could find no circuits or components that were burned, shorted out, damaged, or out of place.

"It's like this isn't physical," Geordi said.

"And you do not believe there is any possibility of a Romulan connection?" Picard asked.

"I'd say the chances of that are slim," Geordi answered.

Geordi clicked his tablet to move to the next slide in his presentation.

"Throughout his life, Graves focused primarily on cybernetic applications – particularly surrounding artificial intelligence and our relationship to biosynthetic engineering," he explained. "Romulan culture tends to frown on any sort of advanced artificial intelligence."

Geordi paused.

"At least, from what we understand about Romulan culture. As you know, they aren't particularly forthcoming," Geordi acknowledged.

"I checked the transport logs and all flight plans registered to and from Graves's world. They received regular supply runs from an independent trader every four to six months," Worf said. "The trader is registered with the Federation and has never had an incident."

Worf had done his homework.

"There is no link indicating any possible Romulan connection in that respect," Worf said.

"But what about a cloaked ship?" Captain Picard asked.

"It is possible," Worf said. "However, Graves's world lies within the Starfleet long-range beacon grid system. I ran three years' worth of data and could find no tachyon trace or unusual readings that would normally indicate the presence of cloaked ships in the area."

Jean-Luc leaned back in his seat and folded his hands in his lap. He took a slow breath as he mulled over this information.

"I must admit I don't know whether to be relieved or not," Picard confessed.

At the very least, the Romulan conspiracy would have been an answer. Their failure to pinpoint a cause meant they were no closer to solving the problem.

"So we are back at square one," Picard said.

"Sir, if I may," Deanna said, stepping in. "It is possible this is entirely emotional."

She had witnessed the change in Data first-hand.

"Data has experienced a tremendous amount of emotional trauma in the last year. And it has occurred at the same time that he is learning to acknowledge and process his own emotional intelligence," Deanna explained.

It had only been within the last year that Data had finally reached a point where he could overcome the trauma of his early activation – the abuse that had conditioned Data to believe he had no emotion.

And it coincided with falling in love, learning the truth behind his origins, and having to face his abuser again.

"For a human this would be unthinkable. For someone just learning to reconnect with himself, well," Deanna trailed off.

Tasha agreed with everything Deanna said. It was part of why she couldn't be mad at Data even in spite of what had occurred between them.

"The death of Doctor Graves may have been the trigger," Deanna said.

The more Deanna had thought about the situation, the more she was convinced that Data's behaviour had abruptly changed after the death of Ira Graves. It was almost like he was trying to emulate Graves's behaviour. Deanna suspected that this was Data's way of trying to connect with Graves since they'd had so little time together.

"With your permission, Captain, I would like to conduct a psychotronic stability examination on Data," Deanna requested.

Jean-Luc was familiar with the test.

It was a required portion of the psychiatric evaluation for all Academy students prior to graduation.

"You will need to order Data to comply, sir. Data has been unusually resistant to speaking with me," Deanna shared.

She had attempted to meet with him the day before. Data had outright refused. When she had suggested a psychotronic stability exam, Data had written it off as a waste of time.

"He has also ended his counselling services," Deanna announced.

"Make it so," Picard ordered.

For the first time in the meeting, Tasha reacted. She was aghast.

"Sir, with all due respect – are you planning to charge Data with an IR-4J79?" Tasha asked in disbelief.

"Lieutenant, it is obvious that Lieutenant Commander Data's behaviour is concerning," Picard countered.

"Yes. It is," Tasha agreed.

She paused. It was difficult for Tasha to speak out. But she knew she had to – she owed Data that much.

"But he's done nothing to endanger the ship. His behaviour as of late is confusing and alarming from the standpoint of the Data we know. And I will agree that he has engaged in several actions that are unbecoming of an officer," Tasha continued. "But that doesn't warrant an IR-4J79."

Data may have been right arse to her. But he still had rights. And he desperately needed an advocate – especially in a room where he was not included in the discussion.

An IR-4J79 was an official report that granted a Captain broad power to act on behalf of a crew member. It could only be enacted by a Captain, a Chief Medical Officer, or a certified Counsellor.

Once in effect, an IR-4J79 allowed a Captain or medical professional to make decisions regarding that crewman's mental or physical health. They could require (or refuse) health procedures, exams, and treatments.

It was an extreme order and usually only reserved as a last resort to help a crewman in crisis.

Most troubling of all was that IR-4J79 was largely stigmatised as a permanent mark on an officer's record. It could stay with an officer for years and was unofficially used to eliminate many from promotions, prominent postings, and even exclusion from certain duties.

"There are people in Starfleet that are looking for a reason – any reason – to declare Data a danger," Tasha reminded the table. "You put this on his record, you risk giving them all the ammunition they need to strip away his rights."

Data had only recently won citizenship in the Federation. Tasha feared that the powers at be could simply take them away as quickly as they had granted them.

"Please don't do this to him," Tasha pleaded.

She looked from Captain Picard to Deanna.

"Please just ask him. Work with him. Try again," Tasha urged. "He has rights!"

Jean-Luc closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

"We will ask for his cooperation. But if he refuses, I will order it," Picard said.

Deanna nodded in understanding.

"Thank you, sir," Tasha said.

"I would also like to release Mr Data. He will be permitted to resume his normal duties and allowed to access the rest of the ship at his leisure," Picard said.

"Sir! I must protest!" Worf cut in.

Jean-Luc put up his hand to silence him.

"Since we do not know why Data is acting this way, I would like to watch him and see what he does," Picard explained. "Perhaps he will reveal himself."

Picard turned to Tasha.

"Tasha, I would like you to keep an eye on Data. Discreetly," Picard instructed.

"Sir, I'm not sure that's a good idea. Maybe Lieutenant La Forge or Commander Riker-" Tasha began to say.

The vein in Jean-Luc's temple began to throb.

"Lieutenant, you sat in my office and promised me – twice – that your personal relationship would have no influence on your duty to this ship," Picard said in a testy voice.

"Sir, it's just that-"

"Since it is obvious you cannot separate the two then I can no longer trust you to do your job free of bias," Picard said. "You are relieved of duty, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Worf, I am appointing you as temporary Security and Tactical Chief until we can sort this out."

Tasha blinked slowly as she tried to process this announcement.

Relieved of duty?

"Lieutenant," Picard said, pulling her attention back.

Stunned, Tasha turned to face the Captain.

"As you are now relieved of duty, you have no reason to be in this meeting. You are dismissed," Picard said.

"Captain-" Riker protested.

"Do you wish to join her?" Picard asked.

He rounded on the table, scanning the faces of the team with a stern look.

"I assume I can count on the rest of you to perform your duty without interference from your personal feelings on the matter?" Picard inquired.

The room fell silent.

"Good," Picard declared as he tugged at the collar on his uniform.

He didn't like to be a crank. But it had long been his fear that this crew was too attached to one another. Now that fear was playing out before his very eyes.

"Lieutenant La Forge, Number One, I want you both to stick close to Data. Keep an eye on him," Picard ordered.

"Yes, sir," Riker answered.

"I'll do my best, sir," Geordi replied.

They both recognised it would not be an easy task.

After the team was dismissed, Jean-Luc could practically feel Deanna's eyes boring into him. She was still in her seat and had made no move to join the rest of the team as they shuffled out of the Observation Lounge.

"What?" Picard prompted.

"Sir, you should know that Tasha's reservations were not motivated by personal feelings," Deanna said. "On the contrary, she was trying to do what is best for Data and for the ship."

"I don't understand," Picard admitted.

"Tasha knew that she wasn't in a position to help. That's why she suggested you assign another officer," Deanna said.

"Counsellor, I recognise I put Tasha in a difficult position. No one wants to spy on their-"

"No, sir," Deanna cut in. "Commander Data and Lieutenant Yar are no longer in a relationship."

For a moment, her comment simply hung in the air as Jean-Luc tried to wrap his head around this information.

He didn't understand. Only recently they were making plans for their secret wedding.

"I do not know all the details, sir. But I know that Data has made clear he does not want to see or speak to Lieutenant Yar again," Deanna shared. "So when you ordered her to keep an eye on him-"

"Tasha knew that wouldn't be possible," Jean-Luc finished for her.

Deanna nodded.

"And I failed to listen," Picard admitted.

-X-

Tasha was on the floor of her quarters focusing on her breathing. After being sent away from the meeting, Tasha had returned home to her quarters.

Between losing Data and now her job, Tasha felt like her entire life was falling apart.

The world may have been collapsing around her, but there was one thing Tasha could control.

And at the moment, Tasha desperately needed to remind herself that she was in control of something.

So since she was relieved of duty, Tasha decided to take advantage of the afternoon. She had put on her favourite Klingon rock slow tracks, her comfiest pair of buttery-smooth leggings, and lit enough candles to flood the room with a warm glow.

Tasha took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of charcoal, black teak, and vanilla that filled the room.

She exhaled, giving herself over to the feeling as she pushed into her melting heart pose to stretch her shoulders and back.

Fitting. She mused.

Tasha twisted her body. She bent her legs and reached back for her ankles, pulling herself into a bat'leth pose.

Maybe I could get a job as a fitness instructor? Tasha thought as she pondered her future.

For years, Tasha had practised her own form of movements combining yoga with the Vulcan technique of Vrinak, the Klingon practice of Mok'bara, traditional Chinese Qigong, and a dash of Caitian Digrate.

Worf called it 'the good kind of burn.'

Data had dubbed it 'toga' short for 'Tasha's yoga.'

It made her heart ache. And that the ache Tasha was hoping to achieve. Resolved she needed to move into a more physically demanding pose to clear her mind, Tasha released her legs and readjusted.

After several preparatory moves, Tasha prepared to shift into her peak pose.

Starting with a high lunge, she contorted her body until she could work her torso under her left leg. The killer praying mantis was no move for beginners. The delicious, deep stretch was just enough to clear her mind and allowed Tasha to slip into the relaxed headspace that came from such an endorphin rush.

She was partway to Nirvana when there was a chime at the door.

Tasha gracefully got up out of her pose and went to get the door. She had expected to find Deanna.

"Sir," Tasha said.

She was mortified at being discovered by the Captain in such a state.

"Sorry, I was just--"

"It is I who should apologise," Picard said, cutting her off.

Tasha didn't know what to say.

"No, sir. It's fine," she said, offering him a reassuring smile.

"May I come in?" Picard inquired.

"Um, sure," Tasha said.

She ordered the computer to halt the music and stepped aside to allow the Captain to come in.

As he spied the candles and music, Jean-Luc felt terrible.

"I fear I also owe you an apology for interrupting," Picard said.

"It's fine, sir. What can I do for you?" Tasha asked.

Jean-Luc was at a loss for words.

"You found out," Tasha said, cutting right to the heart of the issue.

"I'm sorry, Tasha. Truly I am," Picard responded.

"Thank you," she said.

She laughed.

"Tasha?" Picard prompted.

"It's terrible timing. Just my luck this would all happen when I can't even put in for a transfer," she said with a wry grin.

She was trying to find the humour in all of it.

Laugh or cry. She thought.

"I don't know what to say," Picard acknowledged.

"It's alright. Neither of us has ever been very good at this sort of thing," Tasha said.

That was the beauty of their friendship. Jean-Luc and Tasha were all too alike in some respects.

"I'll keep the restrictions in place if it means keeping you on board," Picard warned.

"You know it's probably for the best," Tasha said.

She was doing her best to lie to herself. She had to.

"At least it's over before we went through all the hassle of the wedding or doing something we would regret," Tasha said.

Her resolve was starting to falter. The words felt foul on her tongue.

Tasha swallowed her tears, covering them with a bitter chuckle and shrugged.

"I mean think of how much worse this would be if we had gone through with that. Or children?" Tasha went on, rambling as she tried to maintain her composure. "Moving in, any of the plans we made for a life together. Thank the gods that didn't happen!"

Her voice cracked.

Tasha took a shaky breath.

"Tasha?" Captain Picard prompted.

She sniffled.

"Sir, if I were to resign my commission would I be free to leave the ship when we reach Starbase 6?" Tasha asked.

Tasha had confidence in her own skills and expertise to seek employment in the private sector. She could make a fortune working as a civilian consultant. Plenty of institutions offered cushy roles for security advisors. She could easily secure a position before the Enterprise arrived at starbase.

Tasha was resolved that she didn't need anyone – she was enough.

"Tasha, I-" Picard stammered.

"You could beam me off just like we planned for Ms Brianon," Tasha urged. "Contactless. No risk of an imposter returning."

She could see Captain Picard weighing it over.

"Is this really what you want?" Jean-Luc asked.

"No," Tasha answered honestly. "But I can't have what I want. We have a saying on my homeworld – daaman àite de drylliedig cha ag urrainn a thogamandan."

Jean-Luc had rarely heard Tasha speak in her mother tongue. It had always fascinated him that the native Turkanan remained so elusive that even the Federation had little record of the language.

"Only a fool would rebuild his home at the place where the storm destroyed it," Tasha translated aloud.

She flashed him a small, sad smile.

"I always land on my feet, sir," Tasha said.

It couldn't have been further from the truth. Tasha usually landed on her bum and had a tendency to break something in the fall. If there was a quick and easy way to take a tumble, Tasha was likely to roll down a rocky hill and land in thorns.

But she had a knack for crawling out.

Data had been right about one thing – she didn't know when to quit.

"Come on, sir," Tasha said, hoping to make him feel better. "The universe couldn't break me if it tried. And believe me, it's tried."

That earned a rare smile from Captain Picard.

"I'll have my formal request on your desk by morning," Tasha said.

Jean-Luc pulled Tasha into a tight embrace – an exceptionally rare act for the stoic Captain.

"I am going to miss you, Tasha," Picard said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

-X-

Ira Graves startled awake.

He blinked a few times to get his bearings and glanced around to survey the damage to the room.

Graves was on the floor, slumped against the sofa. He could recall settling into that position the night before after the party had gone awry – only he couldn't remember much after that.

He had been grappling with the magnitude of mixed emotions that coursed through his mind. The party was supposed to be the start of his triumphant new life and it had ended in disaster. Kareen had rejected him.

And to make matters worse, he was starting to feel guilty about displacing Data. When Ira had first met Data, it was like the universe had dropped salvation into his lap. He had made many assumptions about Data's life. With each passing hour, Ira became more aware that he may have miscalculated.

Ira couldn't be certain – but it felt like his mind had reached a point where it needed to cease functioning and reboot. It was almost like falling asleep.

The entire experience had only lasted a few hours. But it was nonetheless disconcerting.

Ira glanced down at the ring in his hand.

He traced his finger over the object. Without warning, his neural net began to activate a memory engram.

The bioplast sensors in his fingertips allowed him to identify that the ring was made from a bone material carved of the horn of a rare beast. The stone was a sodium potassium aluminium silicate, more commonly known as moonstone.

There was also an inscription inside lined with Rhodilium.

Ira knew Data had made this ring himself. Each piece was carefully chosen to create a piece as unique, resilient, and beautiful as the woman it was intended for.

But why should Data get his happy ending and not me? Ira thought.

It seemed hardly fair that Data would be lucky enough to have such a gift as this body while Ira would be left to wither away in his ailing human form.

After all, I worked for this. Ira thought.

He had dedicated his entire life to blurring the line between human physiology and cybernetic perfection. Now, Ira was a living example of that coexistence.

He interpreted Data's arrival as a gift from the universe. Ira saw it as repayment for a life of sacrifice.

How could it be anything else? Ira thought.

He glanced down at the ring again. It was strange how such a small object could fill him with so much rage.

"Argh!" he shouted as he chucked it so hard that it embedded into the back of the workstation.

Ira sat back and growled.

Nothing was going to stop him from seeking his happy ending.

Not a thing.

-X-

"Data, could you try to sit still?" Geordi requested.

He was attempting to fit the halo-like equipment onto Data's head, but Data was far from a willing participant.

"Now, Data, you remember the psychotronic stability examination. We all had to take it before graduating from the Academy," Deanna said.

"It was a waste of time then and it is a waste of time now. Doctors and their stupid mumbo jumbo," Graves grumbled.

Deanna studied his face for a moment as she debated whether or not to broach the subject. She decided on a friendly approach.

"You know who you sound like?" she asked with a smirk.

Data grinned.

"Who do I sound like?" Graves teased.

Deanna had found her in.

"Why do you want to emulate Doctor Graves?" Deanna asked.

Data chuckled.

"Because I am the greatest man that ever lived," he responded.

I?

Alarmed as she was at that statement, Deanna kept her reaction in check.

"Well you are nothing short of spectacular," Deanna said.

"Baby, I wrote the manual," Graves purred.

Geordi fought the urge to roll his eyes and settled for an unamused look. Data's new personality was starting to grate on his nerves.

"Now then, this will gauge your reaction as it cycles through images that represent your subconscious. Watch the screen and try to just let your mind go blank. The device will do the rest," Deanna instructed.

-X-

After completing the exam, Deanna managed to get Data all to herself for a one-on-one conversation for about fifteen minutes before he made it clear he wanted to leave.

Ira had been hesitant to participate in the exam at all. However, Geordi had made a solid argument that it was necessary to avoid some sort of serious order. Ira didn't quite get Starfleet rules and regulations, but he couldn't afford any more mistakes.

He also wasn't willing to risk any possibility of more severe imprisonment.

They were due to arrive at Starbase 6 in three days and Ira had yet to determine an escape plan.

So once he was free, Ira returned to Data's quarters to use the workstation. It was a marvel and allowed him to quickly peruse through both the ship's computers and Federation databases.

Best of all, Ira had been able to hack into Kareen's computer in her guest quarters. He had discovered she'd made inquiries with a number of scientific institutions. She already had interviews arranged with the Vulcan Stellar Sciences Institute, the Daystrom Celestial Cartography Department, and the Mercator Society.

Good girl. Ira thought.

He was proud of Kareen. As an assistant to the elusive Ira Graves, she was in high demand.

Ira only hoped that he could find a way to eventually get back into her life.

And all the while Ira spent searching through possible postings, Data was forced to watch helplessly as Graves made plans to take him away from his life, his friends, and Tasha.

He was a prisoner in his own body.

Worst of all, Data knew he had less than twenty-four hours to figure out a way to break free.

-X-

"It's safe to say that you're his best friend. Is it possible to speculate about what's happening to him?" Picard asked.

Geordi, Deanna, and Commander Riker were assembled in the Captain's Ready Room.

"I don't know, sir. Honestly. This isn't something I ever expected to encounter. Not from Data," Geordi said.

"It's like he's not himself," Riker said.

"That's an understatement," Geordi added.

"But I think it's accurate," Deanna said.

Jean-Luc sat back on the edge of his desk.

"Counsellor?" he asked.

"Data said something to me when we were preparing for the test. It was just an offhand comment, but it got me thinking," Deanna said.

"Thinking?" Picard inquired.

"I asked Data why he was trying to emulate the behaviour of Ira Graves. And when we were talking about Graves, Data used the term 'I' not 'he'," Deanna explained.

It was something Deanna had only ever encountered rarely.

"I've been going through the results of Data's test and, well, I ran them several times to be sure," Deanna said.

She paused, grave concern etched in her expression.

"There are two disparate personalities within Data. Each is distinctly different," Deanna explained.

"Like a split personality?" Picard inquired.

"Dissociative Identity Disorder," Deanna said, correcting him. "I don't believe Data is trying to emulate Graves. I believe Data has adopted Graves's persona and part of him truly believes he is Ira Graves."

Geordi let out a long, low whistle as he fell back into the sofa.

"But how? They only knew each other for a few hours?" Geordi asked.

"And Data has the ability to absorb information faster than any of us. A few hours with Graves is like a lifetime for us," Deanna pointed out.

It was true. Data could learn entire languages, the history of civilisations, and new tasks in a matter of hours.

"I will add that in most humanoids, Dissociative Identity Disorders cannot form after adolescence because an individual has already developed self-identity," Deanna said as she walked them through her theory. "But emotionally, Data is still very young. He suffered significant trauma that stunted his development of a self-identity."

Deanna knew more than most when it came to the details of Data's abuse.

"In many ways, Data is still developing that sense of self. If my theory is correct, he had adopted the persona of Graves because he views Graves a strong, cultured, successful man," Deanna concluded.

"How do we set this right?" Riker asked.

"That's hard to say. Counselling and supportive care can help. But if my diagnosis is correct, this is not something that can be fixed in a few appointments," Deanna said. "It can cause memory lapses, almost like blackouts when one identity is active and the other is dormant."

In Deanna's mind, that had to be the explanation. Data's test had shown he clearly still had strong, warm feelings for Tasha.

"And I think it would explain some of his erratic behaviour. If we had a chance to talk with Data, I bet he would not even be aware of what he said and did to Lieutenant Yar," Deanna said.

-X-

Unfortunately, Data was keenly aware of everything Graves had said to Tasha. And watched in horror as Ira signed off to transfer a large sum of his Federation credits to a cloaked Klingon ship that had agreed to transport him off Starbase 6.

It was the only way Ira could ensure he wasn't followed by Picard.

Not only had Graves destroyed his relationship with Tasha, he was also quite literally draining Data's Federation credits.

In a matter of days, Graves had spent more money that Data had spent in the last year.

Feeling confident in securing his escape plan, Ira decided to take a stroll around the ship. As he was no longer under guard, Ira had the freedom to move about with ease.

But freedom did not necessarily translate to comfort.

On his way past the canteen, people scattered at the sight of him.

Lieutenant Shore, one of his favoured party guests, had literally turned around and scurried off in the opposite direction as Data approached.

When he waved to Lieutenant Jae, she rolled her eyes and walked off.

And in Ten Forward, Guinan had refused him service.

In the end, Ira had wound up outside of Kareen's quest quarters.

"I know you are in there. I can hear you," Ira said.

He tapped the chime again.

"Kareen," he called out.

What Ira couldn't see was that on the other side of the door, Kareen was close to breaking down. She was still grieving the loss of her beloved mentor. Data's advances had become suffocating.

"Kareen," he called out again in a sing-song voice.

"Go away!" she answered.

"I knew you were in there," Ira said.

"If you don't leave, I will contact security," Kareen warned.

Ira's lips thinned.

"Fine. You know you wouldn't be anything without Ira Graves," Ira snapped. "The world's a big, scary place. You better hope you are ready, baby. Because they won't be nearly as kind to you as he was."

Ira ran his hand back through his hair and stormed off.

-X-

Tasha stopped and put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room. She was nearly done boxing up all of her personal possessions when she paused to take stock.

Eyeing the small handful of boxes she realised how very little she actually owned.

Most of it was sporting equipment and a handful of books. Though compared to when she first came aboard, it was certainly a vast improvement.

Tasha had spent so much of her life in transient assignments – covert operations, the Border Wars, various combat postings – that she travelled light.

But the Enterprise had become her home.

Tasha had planted roots here – just like she had on the Crazy Horse.

And just like her time on the Crazy Horse, her time on the Enterprise had ended in tragedy.

A chime at the door pulled Tasha from her thoughts.

From the moment the door opened, Deanna could sense Tasha was leaving even without seeing the boxes.

She gasped and threw her arms around Tasha.

"No," she said.

"D," Tasha said as they stumbled back into her quarters.

"Please don't," Deanna urged.

"I have to do this," Tasha said.

The two friends stood there for a few moments. They were at an impasse.

"You don't have to. I understand why you want to. Believe me," Deanna said. "But you don't have to."

"I do," Tasha said simply. "I can't stay here. Not now."

"Data still loves you," Deanna said.

Tasha stiffened.

Deanna broke their embrace and took a step back.

"Data is still madly in love with you," Deanna said.

"Well he's got a funny way of showing it," Tasha said as she moved over to the table to wrap up a glass candle holder.

"Tasha, I think that's because he isn't himself," Deanna said.

Tasha scoffed.

"Yeah. I noticed," she replied.

"No, I mean he believes he's someone else. There are two distinct personalities inside his mind. It's like he's fractured into a strong, domineering personality that's confident and wants to take on the world," Deanna said. "And the Data we know, the one that is considerate and caring – he's hiding."

Tasha stopped and turned back. She frowned.

"What do you mean? Like he thinks he's two people? Some sort of trauma response?" Tasha inquired.

"A bit more complicated. But yes. I do think it could be related to his trauma. And this death of Graves as a 'Grandpa' figure may have been the trigger," Deanna theorised.

Deanna could tell this information left Tasha feeling conflicted. She longed to believe there was hope of salvaging her relationship with Data.

But at the same time, Tasha was cautious. She couldn't allow herself to get too excited. She was so accustomed to tragedy that it was second nature to assume the worst case scenario.

"We did the psychotronic stability examination. You know how accurate that test is," Deanna said.

Tasha had quite a bit of training in psychology. It was an invaluable resource for her role in Security.

"Data is in there. And he loves you. And he will need your support now more than ever," Deanna said.

-X-

By the time Ira reached his quarters his mood had gone from irritated to truly sour.

"This whole bloody ship and not a damn thing to do," he grumbled.

Ira did not want to confront the fact that he had driven away any chance of camaraderie or companionship (and Kareen) through his own callous behaviour.

Surely, Data had to have hobbies.

Ira had spied the violin in the corner. He preferred a piano but did not know where one was located on the ship aside from Ten Forward.

There was an easel and painting equipment along with a half-finished piece. Ira had never had much appreciation for the artform. He preferred to work with his hands in other ways. Painting was so abstract, and Ira was a man that liked practical, tangible things.

Like women.

And poker.

Desperate for something to occupy his mind, Ira began flinging open the drawers along the wall and at the workstation.

"Well, well, well," Ira said, spying a sketch book.

He had expected to find specs, diagrams, perhaps plans for research projects that he could adapt and utilise in his own work.

He was not expecting to stumble upon a sketchbook full of images of Tasha. Data had completed it in the midst of his trial on Starbase 173. It had been a gift for her when Data had been sure that he would be forced to go with Maddox.

In many ways, it served as a timeline of their relationship up to that point.

Ira casually flipped through a few pages. It was evident there was a side to this Security Chief that he didn't see before.

He settled on the last image – one Data had never intended to show to anyone. Tasha had acquiesced to his request. She was uncomfortable being the subject of his art.

But she had agreed to allow Data to sketch her on the night before the ruling at Data's hearing, the night they had thought would be their last moment together.

Ira carefully traced his fingers over the image.

With each stroke of his pencil, Data had captured every fold of fabric and wisp of tousled hair. She was lying on the bed, wrapped in a sheet, and bathed in the afterglow of sex – there was no doubt about it.

"Oh blondie, I fear I may have judged you too soon," Ira remarked aloud.

Ira gasped.

I did.

Ira set the sketchpad down and began to stroke his chin.

Ever since Kareen had rejected his advances, Ira had been desperately seeking to find companionship elsewhere. He'd spent far too many lonely years on that planet.

It was astonishing that on a ship with over a thousand people, he had still managed to royally strike out.

But there was one woman that already had a pre-existing relationship with Data, one woman that had shown him kindness and attention ever since coming aboard.

And she was the one woman he had rejected.

All of a sudden, Ira felt his control slipping away as Data struggled to regain access to his body.

He knew where Ira's thoughts were headed, and he didn't want Ira going anywhere near Tasha.

For a moment, they struggled.

Data raised his left hand. It came up slowly off the surface of the workstation. It was trembling as he fought to guide it toward his computer.

If he could only get a message to Captain Picard.

Out of nowhere, Data's right hand shot up and caught the other one. Ira firmly had control of that limb.

"Do....not...hurt..." Data managed to choke out.

He could hear himself laughing but Data knew it wasn't his own voice.

"Oh, I would never hurt a beautiful woman," Ira said.

"Stop," Data said through gritted teeth.

"There is no easier prey than a wounded woman," Graves said. "A poor, broken heart just waiting for someone to come along."

Data squeezed his eyes shut and focused all his energy into reaching the keyboard.

"In fact, I made quite a hobby of picking up the pieces old Soong left when we were together at Daystrom," Ira shared.

Ira had learned that it was easier to let a woman grow tired of Soong and his ways than to try and compete. Sooner or later, he said something to drive them away or they grew wise and left. That's when Ira would swoop in and make his move.

"Please," Data cried, his plea coming out as a choked sob.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Ira released his arm as he had now regained control.

"There," Ira said.

He straightened his collar and smoothed back his hair.

"I thought you would be happy," Graves remarked.

He was having a hard time distinguishing his own emotions from Data's. In fact, the line was growing increasingly blurred.

"You want her to be happy and she wants you back," Graves said. "And I get to reap all the benefits of that. It's a win-win."

Only it was evident Data didn't see the situation as such. In fact, Ira was having a difficult time pulling himself up out of his seat.

If Data couldn't get a message out, he would find another way to stop Graves. Data poured all of his energy into preventing Ira from moving.

Ira grunted and shifted as he tried to stand. Were anyone to walk in, they would think Data was somehow glued to his chair as he struggled to free himself.

After a full three minutes of fighting, Ira slammed all of his weight down to try and break the seat. The move worked – surprising Data and crushing the chair.

Ira hopped up and dusted himself off.

"That's better," Ira said.

Now he just needed a ruse.

-X-

Tasha was just sorting through her limited closet when the door chimed.

Word of her departure had spread quickly. Some of the crew had already stopped by to off their condolences and express their sorrow that Tasha would be leaving.

Worf had dropped off his last jar of Pincha Peppers as a farewell gift. Wesley had pleaded with Tasha to stay. Even Lieutenant Adams had dropped by to wish her well and to make good on a longstanding offer that he would very much like the chance to take her out for coffee.

When you're ready. He'd added with a knowing smile.

He was sweet like that.

"Come in," Tasha called out.

She frowned as she looked back and forth between a casual blue jumpsuit and sporty white two-piece ensemble she'd worn a few times.

Tasha dropped both of them as she caught a glimpse of Data's reflection in the window standing behind her.

"You look better in blue. But I prefer you in nothing," Graves said as his eyes travelled the length of her body.

Even with his limited knowledge of women's fashion, Ira could tell her attire was hardly on par with the trends of the day. After her workout, Tasha had taken a long soak in the tub before slipping into her usual sleep attire – a pair of standard issue athletic shorts and an old Parrises Squares tee.

But Ira didn't need anything fancy to still appreciate the female form.

Recovering from the shock, Tasha resumed packing. She did not turn around nor did she acknowledge his remark.

"I wanted to return your personal possessions," Ira said.

"Thank you. You can just set them down and go," Tasha responded.

Ira set the box down on the table. Had Tasha bothered to look, she would have realised there was a problem. Ira had rummaged through Data's quarters looking for anything that appeared feminine. He had managed to correctly identify and pack up her dressing gown and pyjamas, the extra uniform she kept on hand, and a few other bits and bobs.

But he had failed to grab some rather key items including the other half of Tasha's Andorian ice miner blade set, her copy of Pet Semetary (a personal favourite), and a lovely silver hair clip that was one of the only pieces of jewellery Tasha owned.

"May we speak?" Ira asked.

Mindful of Deanna's revelation, Tasha was patient.

She was also guarded.

Deanna had suggested that it would be best to tread carefully.

Tasha turned around to face him but kept a healthy physical distance between the two of them. Tasha said nothing, waiting for Data to speak first.

"You are packing," he observed.

"Yeah," Tasha acknowledged.

"Why?" Ira demanded.

"Well, in twenty-four hours my engagement ended, and I was relieved of duty," Tasha answered. "I lost my partner and my job."

She took a breath to steady her nerves.

"Captain Picard offered to reinstate me but, well, you know how I feel about signs from the universe and.. and I think that was a pretty big one that I-" Tasha paused, hesitant to say the words out loud.

Because saying it aloud made it real.

Tasha averted her gaze as her eyes began to well up. She didn't want Data to see her cry.

"You know what my people believe," Tasha concluded. "It would seem my penance is not yet complete. I still owe a great debt and I shall find no happiness until that is paid."

Oh this is too perfect! Ira thought.

He had no idea what she was talking about. He could care less about some backwater religious nonsense.

She was clearly emotionally compromised. Ripe for the taking.

And it has been so long. Ira thought.

"I should not have been so harsh to you," Ira said.

"Well, at least you were honest. And at the very least, you told me before we went any further," Tasha said.

She appeared calm, but on the inside she was grieving.

Tasha studied his face for a moment.

She was revolted as it seemed like Data was ogling her bare legs.

"Data, ever since you came back from Graves's world, you've changed," she said. "And I don't like who you've changed into. Do you remember what I asked you to promise me?"

Ira stayed silent. He had no inkling of any promise and couldn't risk saying the wrong thing.

"Don't ever change for anyone. Ever," Tasha reminded him.

It was a call back to the earliest days of their relationship.

"Oh I have not changed. I have found who I really am. I have come to realise my full potential, now. I am better than any man," Graves said.

A sad look crossed Tasha's face.

Ira stepped forward and tried to cup her face.

Tasha stepped back, just out of his reach.

"No," she said.

She wasn't about to run back to him – not after what had happened.

"Natasha," Ira said.

Tasha grimaced.

"You know I hate being called that," she said, unable to stop herself. "Data, why are you acting so weird? What is going on with you?"

Ira was only half listening. He had been alone on that station for so many years – too many years without the touch of a woman.

Tasha felt conflicted as she watched Data. A part of her welcomed the way he was looking at her. It was the same look he'd given her hundreds of times, a look that was full of tenderness.

But at the same time, she was so furious and confused that she didn't want to acknowledge it.

"I was in error to send you away," Ira said. "I was short-sighted."

"How was your meeting with Deanna?" Tasha asked, hoping to change the subject.

"She helped me realise a few things – including that I never should have been so harsh to you," Ira went on as he stepped closer. "I was cruel, and I would do anything to make that up to you."

He tried to pull Tasha close, but she slipped out from his grasp to the safety of the other side of the table.

"Let me show you how sorry I am," Graves said in a dangerously low voice.

Tasha put her hand up to stop him.

"I don't know if this is really the best thing right now," Tasha said in earnest. "You are going through a lot."

Tasha sighed, staring up at Data, her face full of pity.

"I will be here for you," she said with great difficulty. "I'm sure this is very scary. And I know how much you value physical reassurance."

She paused.

"I will be here for you – emotionally, mentally – every step of the way. Even when I leave, you can always talk to me," Tasha said.

Graves's heart fluttered. He could see he was winning her over.

"But we are no longer in a relationship," Tasha declared.

Ira's hope was dashed as quickly as it had come on.

Ira pulled her in close.

"I love you," he said.

Tasha delicately extracted herself from his embrace.

"Data, if you want to take a walk to the Arboretum or grab a Raktajino at the canteen, I will be happy to accompany you and listen," Tasha said. "You could tell me all about-"

"I do not wish to talk," Graves said.

Tasha was starting to get uncomfortable.

"How about a cup of tea? You always like that.. mint," Tasha said, her voice shooting up an octave as Ira came up behind her.

He caught Tasha's arms, his breath warm against her neck.

"I have no need to eat or drink," Ira whispered.

Tasha had a sick, sinking feeling that he was only there for one reason. She held her breath as his hand closed around her waist.

"Right now, I need you to be here for me," Ira went on. "I have needs that only you can meet."

He moved to the other side of her neck.

"You said it yourself. This is one of those times I need physical reassurance," Ira urged as he rocked against her.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"So who turned you down?" Tasha asked.

Ira froze.

It was enough of an opportunity for Tasha to turn around. She shook her head, eying Data with utter contempt.

"Who turned you down?" she repeated.

Suddenly under her gaze, Ira felt all of three inches tall.

"Did you find that your new libertine, freestyle life isn't all it's cracked up to be? A little harder than anticipated? Women aren't just leaping into arms?" Tasha demanded.

Ira fumbled for a response.

"So what? You thought you'd swoop in here and revisit your, how did you put it? The first woman to throw herself at you? Your Ferengi knock off? Your fucking draft horse?" Tasha roared as Data backed toward the wall.

She was furious.

"Am I your safety net now?" she demanded.

Tasha stopped, her chest heaving. In a flash, her glare softened. Her posture shifted as her clenched shoulders dropped.

Tasha's lip began to quiver.

"You know just when I thought you couldn't possibly hurt me any more than you did, you have somehow managed to exceed expectations," Tasha said. "Congratulations, Commander."

­Silence fell on the pair.

A man with more conscience may have been moved by her words. But Ira Graves had come too far to turn back now. He had waited so long and struck out at every opportunity.

Only when he tried to move, he found his feet were planted firmly to the floor.

No.

Data knew where Ira's thoughts were. And he knew that he had to do everything he could to stop him. He was pouring all of his energy into systemically shutting down his body one function at a time.

As quickly as Data disabled one programme, Ira would start it up again.

All in all, their intensive faceoff lasted less than a second. But for the two minds sharing Data's body, it was an eternity.

Before Tasha knew what was happening, she felt her back make contact with a hard surface. Graves had rushed her with such a force that the wall behind Tasha cracked.

She cried out as he gripped her wrist hard enough to crush the bones.

Tasha was in disbelief – both because she could not believe Data would ever do such a thing and because she was momentarily stunned from the impact.

-X-

Geordi tapped the button to call the lift. He had just heard the news about Tasha and wanted to drop by and offer his support.

He whistled as he stepped onto the lift.

Whenever he was nervous, Geordi whistled. It was his way of trying to work through his anxiety in a productive, non-harmful manner.

He was rue to see Tasha go. Yet Geordi couldn't find it in himself to be upset with her. He knew how much she cared for Data, how much of herself she had committed to their relationship.

And he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain of their very public, very sudden breakup.

It was hard enough for Geordi to wrap his brain around the sudden change in Data's behaviour. As Data's best friend, Geordi felt he hardly recognised him anymore.

"Oh T, I'm going to miss you," Geordi lamented aloud.

There was a whirl as the lift began to move.

-X-

Tasha glanced over at Data's hand that was closed around her wrist.

She blinked slowly.

This couldn't be real.

Data - her Data - would never hurt her.

This isn't your Data. She reminded herself.

Tasha felt like she hardly knew this man. And there was a voice inside of Tasha screaming that she didn't.

Ira leaned in close. He nuzzled against Tasha's neck. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, savouring the soft scent of lavender.

Tasha was horrified as he buried his nose in her hair to smell her shampoo.

She was going to be sick.

All of a sudden, Data stopped.

He stumbled back and appeared to be twitching.

Tasha recoiled as he looked up, reaching for her.

"Tasha," Data pleaded. "Please.... help... help me."

His eyes were full of terror. In a flash it was like Data had gone from aggressor to frightened child.

"Please," he begged.

Tasha reached out and gently held his shoulders.

"It's alright," she said in the same soothing voice she'd mastered in her role as Security Chief.

"Do not... hurt," Data struggled to say. "Hurt her."

Data's primary power cell was pounding. His coolant system was having a difficult time functioning as he fought to retain control. His artificial breathing was laboured, and Data was having a hard time accessing his speech programme.

Every time he tried to get out the words to warn Tasha, Graves managed to shut it down.

For several agonising seconds, they stared at one another as they held each other's shoulders.

"Off," Data finally managed to choke out.

"Off? Your off switch?" Tasha asked.

While she was normally hesitant to use such a switch, Data looked to be in excruciating pain. Tasha could not stand to watch him suffer. However, she wanted confirmation before activating such a drastic measure.

"Ah," Tasha hissed.

Data's fingers began to dig into her shoulder.

"Okay, okay," Tasha said.

She tried to reach around Data to find his activation switch. Only Data wasn't making it easy. They struggled for a few moments, but it was apparent either wouldn't or couldn't release her.

"Data, I need to-"

Her arms weren't quite long enough to fit around his frame when they were shoulder length apart.

Tasha breathed a sigh of relief when she felt his grip loosen.

But the moment was short-lived.

Tasha grunted as she impacted the wall a second time in the same painful spot. She spluttered, gasping for air as Data held her there, his fingers closed tight around her throat.

His grip was enough to restrict her airway with little effort.

Tasha knew it was futile. She tried to bend his elbow to break the hold, but Data was too strong. There was no use kicking him – she would only shatter her foot on his duranium skeleton.

So she clawed at his arm. And when that failed, she clutched his arm, wordlessly pleading for Data to stop.

"Stop flailing," Graves said.

He had only intended to slap her. Once more, Ira underestimated Data's strength output. Tasha could feel her nose break under the impact.

She was dazed. Tasha blinked slowly. She felt the warm sensation of blood on her face as it dribbled down over her lips and chin.

Tasha registered Data's hand on her leg.

"Now we both know why I came here," Ira growled as he caressed her thigh.

Tasha emptied her mind.

Falling back on a survival technique of her youth, she sought to completely detach herself from her own body. It was a trick she had learned as a girl because compliance meant survival.

She recalled a cold stream where she used to catch smelt as a child. They were tiny little fish good for bait and easy to scoop up with a bucket or a net.

The water was so clear that she could see right down into it. And whenever she had pain she could slip into that creek and let the cool, running water numb a swollen finger or sore feet.

Ira's hand settled on the waistband of Tasha's shorts.

And then he stopped.

Something wet dribbled down onto his arm.

Oh don't be crying. He griped.

He wasn't sure he could see it through if there were waterworks.

Ira sighed and glanced up, fully prepared to offer some half-hearted reassurance when he froze.

Tasha's nose was bleeding – enough that the bottom half of her face and top of her shirt were covered.

But it was the sight of her dead eyes, devoid of any life that finally managed to penetrate his conscience.

Ira backed off like he'd been burned. No longer supported, Tasha collapsed to her knees.

"I am sorry," he said, panicked.

He clutched his chest.

What have I done? He thought.

"I am so sorry," he said as he tentatively reached forward, stopping just shy of touching her arm.

His whole body was trembling. Graves was so shaken that he could barely retain control of himself.

"I did not mean to... I would never harm you," Ira stammered.

Sure, he was a chauvinistic pig, a right arse, and a completely unapologetic bastard most of the time. But he had never physically harmed a woman.

Until now.

What have I become?

Ira was scared. Truly scared. He couldn't stop himself from screaming that question over and over again in his mind.

He began to breathe hard, pulling at his hair as Doctor Crusher's words echoed in his mind.

Darnay's disease attacks the mind.

The damage to your frontal lobe is the primary neurological effect. Cognitive decline will continue until you lose the ability for rational thought and decision making.

Patients can become irrational and eventually violent to themselves and others.

Graves knelt down in front of Tasha.

"I am so sorry. I am so sorry," he repeated as he reached for her shoulder. "I did not mean to-"

"Get out," Tasha said without looking up.

"Tasha, I would never-"

"Get out," she repeated in a dark voice so foreign to her own typically cool demeanour.

"Tasha, I must-"

She lifted her head to look him square in the face.

"Get. Out," she repeated, seething with anger.

Graves backed away but did not leave.

Tasha pulled herself and wiped the blood away from her mouth with the back of her good arm.

"Get out," she repeated as she slowly closed in on Data.

He instinctively backed away. Bruised, beaten, broken – she cut an intimidating figure. Ira had never felt more threatened.

"GET OUT!" Tasha shouted.

-X-

Ira rushed out the room, nearly tripping over himself as he scrambled for the corridor. He was in such a rush that he ran smack into Geordi La Forge.

"Data?" Geordi called out.

Ira ignored him completely. He pulled himself up and raced for the nearest lift.

-X-

Back in her quarters, Tasha collapsed to her knees on the carpet.

She looked down at her broken wrist and the blood on her shirt. Without regard, she gently lowered herself to the floor and simply laid there.

No tears.

No thoughts.

Just numb.

Because numb was safe.

Numb was easier than trying to work out how her tender hearted Data could be capable of such a brutality.

Tasha had no desire to speculate on why the person she trusted most could betray her in a way so personal and painful.

Nor did she even want to acknowledge that it had happened.

But there would be no time to live in that denial.

The door chimed and Tasha was immediately on red alert.

Go away. She prayed.

The alert sounded again. Someone was outside and it appeared they were not going away.

"Hey! It's me!" Geordi called out from the other side of the door.

Growing up in Starfleet, Geordi was an expert at the game of personal Tetris. Having moved no less than twenty-seven times as a child, Geordi was a packing expert.

He knew Tasha could likely use a hand and wanted to help make things easier.

"T?" Geordi asked when she didn't answer.

Tasha glanced around the room and down at the blood on her shirt.

"Um... it's not really a good time," she said in a thick voice.

Tasha made a dash for the replicator.

"Compress. Cold. Wet," Tasha ordered.

She hissed as she carefully applied it to her nose.

"Everything alright?" Geordi asked. "I ran into Data. Looked like he was leaving in a hurry. Did you two erm.. well, are you okay?"

"Fine!" Tasha hollered back. "He just dropped my things off."

She was anything but fine. Yet Tasha couldn't let Geordi see her in this state. What would he think? It was humiliating enough already. She couldn't bear the thought of Geordi looking at her like a victim.

Only Geordi could hear the sound of feigned enthusiasm in her voice.

"Tasha, I'm coming in," Geordi announced.

"No! Don't!" she urged.

It was too late.

The moment he stepped inside, Geordi quickly assessed the situation – the impact on the wall, the blood on the floor. It was evident there was a struggle.

Tasha was cradling her left wrist. Her other hand held the compress firmly against her nose in an effort to slow the bleeding.

His VISOR allowed him to pick up on certain visual cues that would be unseen by others – her heart rate was way up, there was bruising beginning to form on her arm and neck.

"Tasha, here. Let me," Geordi said, offering to hold the compress.

Tasha recoiled, turning away toward the lavvy.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Tasha, what happened?" Geordi asked.

"Nothing," Tasha lied.

She turned on the sink and ran the tap until it was cold. Tasha rummaged through a small box for a fresh flannel to prepare a second compress.

"Did Data hurt you?" Geordi pressed.

Tasha didn't respond.

"Tasha?" Geordi urged.

"No," she lied.

Inside, Tasha was screaming at herself. She didn't know why she was covering for Data. She felt utterly wretched. But she couldn't bring herself to admit what had happened.

"I was moving something I shouldn't have tried to lift on my own. Popped off, smacked me square in the face," Tasha said, hoping Geordi wouldn't ask too many questions.

"And that's when you fell into the wall hard enough to break it?" Geordi asked.

He wasn't buying a word of her story.

Tasha dropped the first compress into the sink and replaced it with a fresh, cool flannel. She closed her eyes as the cold water provided soothing relief to her swollen nose.

"This isn't your fault," Geordi assured her. "I'm not going to pretend I know what to say or do. But this isn't your fault. And I'm here."

"This is not Data," Tasha said. "I know he looks like Data. I know he talks in Data's voice, but it's not him."

She shrugged.

"He's not Data," Tasha repeated.

She squeezed her eyes shut to try and fight the urge to cry. Her whole nasal passage and eyes were so swollen that it hurt to even think about crying.

"There was a moment where he begged me to deactivate him," Tasha shared. "It was like Data was afraid of himself."

Data had been genuinely frightened. And it scared Tasha too.

She shook her head.

"Data wouldn't do this," Tasha insisted.

She was clinging to that. Her Data, the gentlest of souls, would never have harmed another. It went against all he believed in, all that Data had worked for.

Suddenly, Tasha was struck by an idea.

"Geordi, is there any possibility we brought back Lore from Graves's world?" Tasha asked.

Her mind was spinning, trying to fathom any reasonable explanation.

"Maybe Lore sought out Graves. You said Graves was a contemporary of Doctor Soong, right?" Tasha questioned.

"I see where you're going. But no, that's not Lore. Lore has a type L phase discriminating amplifier. Data's is a type R. We would have caught that in the scan," Geordi explained.

"But what if he found a way to-"

"Tasha, the odds of that are extremely unlikely. Those kinds of amplifiers went off the market years ago. Soong was already working with outdated parts when he put them into Data and Lore," Geordi said. "They're next to impossible to find."

Geordi knew this because it was one of Data's parts that Data kept a list of alternatives for just in case Geordi ever needed to replace them.

They had searched far and wide for any type R (or type L) at scrapyards, museums, and defunct cybernetic firms only to come up empty handed.

"We should get you to Sickbay," Geordi said.

"No," Tasha said, shaking her head. "Not like this."

"Tasha-"

"Geordi, please," Tasha pleaded, clutching his arm. "No one can know what happened."

"Data could be out there right now-"

"I will tell Captain Picard what happened. You can come with me if you don't trust me. We'll take care of Data. But please," Tasha urged. "No one can know what happened."

Geordi was hesitant to make promises. He wanted to protect Tasha's privacy. At the same time, Geordi was now deeply concerned that Data posed a significant threat to the ship and the crew.

"Geordi, a plasma shock would temporarily scramble a positronic matrix right?" Tasha asked.

"Yeah," Geordi answered. "Yeah, I see where you're headed."

He snapped his fingers.

"It would immobilise Data long enough for us to move him to the Brig," Geordi said. "At least we could keep him contained until we figure this out."

Tasha led Geordi out into the main room as she headed for the replicator.

"He can't suspect us. If he sees a phaser or a laser scanner, he's going to know we're up to something," Tasha said.

She tapped the replicator screen to access the basic medical options available and ordered up a quick oral dose of a coagulant and a wrap for her wrist. She could at least secure support until Beverly could mend it properly with an osteogenic stimulator.

"I could modify my VISOR," Geordi offered.

It wasn't a great solution and would likely result in a splitting headache. But Geordi was willing to take that risk if it meant saving lives.

"But how are we going to get in? The field would be small. Two metres at most. We'll need to be in close proximity," Geordi said.

"Leave that to me," Tasha said.

-X-

Ten minutes later, Geordi and Tasha stepped off the lift on Data's level. She had quickly changed into a fresh uniform. Her face was still terribly bruised and swollen – but at least the bleeding was temporarily stopped.

According to the computer, Data had returned to his quarters and was alone.

"Tasha, I should warn you that this may temporarily knock me unconscious as well," Geordi cautioned. "If it doesn't work-"

"I know," she finished for him.

They stopped a few metres shy of Data's quarters.

Geordi turned to Tasha.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Geordi asked.

"Yeah," Tasha replied, her eyes focused on Data's door.

-X-

Ira was paralysed by fear. He had returned to Data's quarters almost on instinct because it felt familiar. However, he realised it was likely the first place they would look for him.

No doubt, Security was already en route to take him into custody.

Graves had memorised the layout of the Enterprise. There were all sorts of places he could hide – but Ira was far too afraid to leave now.

He didn't have it in him to show his face in the corridor. Not only did he fear what they may do to him, but he was also terrified of what he would do to anyone he encountered.

Ira's hands hadn't stopped shaking since he'd left Lieutenant Yar's quarters.

He was trying to push away the growing thought that he could no longer control his own mind. Ira could feel it slipping away at times – and it was entirely different than when he struggled against Data.

The incident with Lieutenant Yar had been a disturbing sign.

He may have found a way to transfer his consciousness into Data's body, but there was no escaping fate.

The damage from Darnay's disease had been carried over along with all his memories, personality, and dreams.

Ira was so consumed in his own thoughts that he failed to hear the numerous chimes at the door.

He was unaware of Tasha's presence until he spied her shadow on the surface of the workstation.

Ira was immediately on guard. There were no security forces. Ira had no doubt that if the Klingon were there, he wouldn't be able to resist charging into a fight.

Instead, she had brought La Forge.

"Data?" Tasha asked.

Data – the real Data – fought to surface. He needed a chance to explain, to warn them. For an excruciating two seconds, Data and Graves battled internally for control of the audio output system.

Fresh off his win and feeling testy, Ira spoke before thinking.

"So have you come back here to take me up on my offer?" Graves asked.

Tasha let the remark slide.

"Data, actually we were wondering if you would like to join us for dinner?" Tasha suggested. "Sort of a farewell before I leave tomorrow. Part as friends?"

Geordi had always known Tasha was a pillar of resiliency. But watching her stand there and speak those words made him gain a whole new appreciation for her strength.

"The three of us?" Ira asked.

"Mmm hmm," Tasha said.

"Come on, Data," Geordi said, hoping to coax him out of his seat.

They just needed Data to get a little closer to be in range of the device.

Ira looked back and forth between the two of them. Something about this whole affair smelled off. So he decided to test them.

"Get out, Geordi," Ira ordered.

"Data, I'm here as a friend," Geordi protested.

"Get out. You're killing the mood," Ira said.

"Data, please we just want-" Tasha began to say.

Ira stood and began to move around the desk.

"And you," he said, approaching Tasha. "Maybe what you need is..."

"He said what?" Picard fumed.

"Please don't make me repeat that, sir," Geordi requested.

"And you?" Picard asked, turning to Chief O'Brien.

With practised ease, Miles feigned innocence.

"I must have forgot that Lieutenant Yar's command authorisation was locked out," Miles said with a shrug.

Jean-Luc was still reeling from the developments of the last twenty minutes. Geordi and Tasha had temporarily immobilised Data before requesting Chief O'Brien transport him directly to a cell in the Brig.

According to Geordi, Data had been involved in some sort of incident and they felt it was safest to act immediately rather than wait for permission.

"I will admit this is unusual, but I am sure you only acted in the best interests of the ship," Picard said.

"Lieutenant Yar can best fill you in on the details," Geordi said.

"Right," Picard said. "Dismissed."

-X-

Beverly sighed as she pocketed her hypospray.

Then she gently gripped Tasha's chin.

"Promise me wherever you're headed that you will take better care?" Beverly requested as she tutted. "Let this be one holodeck programme you'll not repeat? Please?"

She had always fussed over Tasha's health. Now that Tasha was leaving, Beverly was concerned she wouldn't be as keen to visit nor as forthcoming with her next doctor.

"No worries. I don't intend to do this again," Tasha promised.

Suddenly, her posture stiffened.

"Captain," she said, straightening up.

She made a feeble attempt to look presentable, but it was hard given the circumstances.

"Doctor, would you give us the room?" Picard asked.

"Of course," Beverly said.

She turned to leave, shaking her head with a fond eyeroll as she muttered about fighting holodeck monsters.

Jean-Luc waited for the room to empty before speaking. But when the time came and Beverly was finally out of earshot, he found that words failed him.

He had to check himself so as not to react to her appearance.

"Sir, I'm sorry for acting without your authorisation," Tasha apologised.

"I think that, given the circumstances, you made the right call," Picard replied.

Jean-Luc resolved that if he'd taken a beating like that, he also would have done whatever was necessary to detain the culprit before risking further danger to the ship or crew.

"What happened?" Picard asked.

"It's really not important," Tasha said.

She wasn't trying to put on a brave face. Rather, she was concerned that the risk to Data would be lost in the shuffle unless she kept a laser focus on it.

"Tasha-"

"Sir," she said, gripping his forearm.

Tasha glanced up.

"Something's happened to Data. He's not in control of himself," Tasha said. "He asked me to deactivate him."

She paused and frowned.

"He wouldn't do that unless he was in danger or pain or," Tasha paused before dropping her voice, "or trying to stop himself."

"From?" Picard pressed.

"I don't know," Tasha confessed. "It was like one minute he was frightened and the next there was something that possessed him."

Suddenly, Jean-Luc's combadge pinged.

"Captain, you need to see this," Geordi's voice rang out. "I'm in Sickbay. Would you please-"

"Go," Tasha said, motioning toward the door.

Geordi wasn't quite finished with his ask when the door to a private exam room opened, and Captain Picard poked his head out.

"Captain," Geordi said, taken by surprise.

-X-

"I couldn't stop thinking about what you said, the way you described Data's behaviour," Geordi said. "How he looks like Data and talks like Data but clearly is not Data."

Tasha's words had echoed in his mind ever since she had asked if there was any possibility that the identity of their imposter was Lore.

"I spent the last few days combing through sensor data and the logs to see if there were any signs of a energy surge or unusual readings," Geordi said.

The ship had previously encountered several lifeforms capable of penetrating Data's neural net and influencing his behaviour.

"So you think this is a lifeform?" Picard asked.

"Yes and no," Geordi said.

"Geordi," Picard insisted, pushing him to get on with it.

"Deanna said she noticed the change on the planet - right after Graves died," Geordi said.

Tasha and Captain Picard weren't following. Beverly, whom Geordi had tapped only moments before, was completely out of the loop.

"Ira Graves wasn't just a cyberneticist. He was the leading cyberneticist that specialised in bridging the gap between man and machine," Geordi explained. "His expertise was in transferring human consciousness to a synthetic host body."

It was the only explanation Geordi could think of and he was kicking himself for not realising it sooner.

"I don't think Data's adopted the persona of Ira Graves. I think he is Ira Graves," Geordi said.

He turned to Beverly.

"Do you still have the brain scans you took of Graves before his death?" Geordi inquired.

"Yeah," Beverly replied.

She had input them as part of her report on their mission.

"I would bet anything that if we compare those scans to the ones taken after we go back to the ship, they would be a match," Geordi said.

"Graves was brilliant, egocentric, arrogant, chauvinistic," Beverly rattled off.

"Sound familiar?" Geordi asked.

"And Graves and Data were nearly always alone. He insisted on it," Beverly added.

Jean-Luc was both furious and intrigued.

"Then our memorial service may have been premature. What an achievement," Picard remarked, before turning to one of his favourite sonnets. "So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this give life to thee."

Beverly returned a moment later with the scans.

Using her tablet, she pulled them up side by side for comparison.

"When we conduct an intermediate neural scan we track twenty-three points," Beverly said, walking them through the image. "Now when we monitored Data's neural activity during the psychotronic stability examination, we identified two distinct personalities within Data."

It had been what first confirmed Deanna's theory about Data's split behaviour.

"Now the first isn't a match at all – but it does coincide with Data's previous neural scans that I've conducted during his past trips to Sickbay. This second set matches on all twenty-three data points with the scans we obtained from Doctor Graves," Beverly said.

Tasha thought she would feel relieved – only she didn't.

Rather, she was consumed with rage. Someone had invaded Data's body, they had overtaken his mind.

They had used him.

And it had happened at the hands of a man Data trusted no less.