Chapter Text
Data had been liaising with his opposite numbers at Ops and with the various chief engineers of their small fleet. An idea had occurred to him late the previous day. He had been reviewing the Enterprise’s encounters with the Romulans over the last several years and had been struck once again by the ingenuity of Geordi’s active tachyon field. It had been deployed with some measure of success as a net of sorts, strung out between ships so that any cloaked Romulan vessel attempting to pass would break the field and be detected.
Data had begun to speculate that this net, previously deployed as an essentially two-dimensional sheet, might be adapted for their current situation. If they were able to introduce an angle of sufficient degree to each ship’s field, it would be possible to encompass a volume of space within a tachyon sphere. It would trap any cloaked vessel inside, unless they wanted to attempt to ‘run for it’.
Should they do so, and Data thought it a likely response, he was also discussing with Lieutenant Worf the use of the ionised gravimetric charges. These would have no effect in the vacuum of space, requiring a certain density of gaseous matter through which the charge could propagate. Inside their sphere, the vacuum of space would remain unchanged.
Unless they did something to alter it.
Data’s solution was to propose that, once the fleet was assembled and the tachyon sphere deployed, each ship would vent their hydrogen exhaust into the sphere via their Bussard collectors. Something similar had worked to save Geordi once before and Data hoped that it might do so again. By increasing the gaseous density within their tachyon trap, it would allow the ionised gravimetric charges to be deployed against any vessel trapped within.
“Picard to Commander Data, would you join me in my ready room.”
Data did so and took the seat offered across the desk from his captain.
“How are the alterations coming along?”
“Works have begun to convert the emitters for the correct angle of dispersal. It is expected that will be completed across the fleet by 1800 hours. The Cheshire will be the last ship to rendezvous, their ETA is 2335 hours tomorrow. Testing can then commence with the full compliment of ships.”
“Very good,” said Picard, who then paused. “This is in no way a comment upon the plan or your efforts, but I am minded that we should not get our hopes up, nor the crews’. Success hangs on the Romulans still being in this sector. If they have moved off or indeed fled back into Romulan space...”
Captain Picard did not need to complete his train of thought.
“Indeed,” Data agreed. “If the Romulan vessel has left the area, this plan is defunct. However, I am still monitoring the E-band. Should we receive another transmission, we will be ready to move in on that location. They will have to emerge momentarily to vent their own exhaust products and recharge their cloaking device. I am confident that we will locate them if they are in the vicinity and our countermeasures will be ready.”
“Then the technical aspect of the mission is well in hand.” Captain Picard looked at him, a thoughtful, reflective look on his face. “How are you, Mr Data?”
“How am I, sir?” he replied, puzzled by this unexpected inquiry. “I am ‘fine’, thank you.”
Picard smiled, his usually stern or stoic expression transformed as his eyes crinkled almost closed.
“I don’t mean ‘how are you’ as a general greeting,” the Captain explained. “How are you? You’ve hardly left your seat in the last week.”
“As I do not require rest or relaxation, I prefer to remain at my post.”
“Your dedication to your duty and to your friends is commendable, but I will need to insist that you take a break and speak with Counselor Troi at some point.”
“That will not be necessary as I do not currently have the emotion chip engaged. I am better able to function at optimal efficiency without it for the time being.”
Captain Picard took in a deep breath. “As I understand it, the longer you disengage the chip, the more… severe the reaction to those pent up emotions.”
Data stared at his captain and did not immediately respond.
“Therefore,” Picard continued, “I think it would be prudent for the mental health of my Second Officer for him to take a break once the alterations have been completed. There will be more than a day between that and the arrival of the Cheshire. I would like to see you take that time and attend to your own requirements.”
“Thank you, sir,” Data responded. It was clear from Captain Picard’s demeanour that he was not willing to debate this matter. “I will do as you suggest.”
“We all know what this means to you, Mr Data.”
With a nod of acknowledgement, he was dismissed. When seated back at Science I, Data did as he had been asked and scheduled an appointment with Counselor Troi for 1100 hours tomorrow.
Sonya pulled at her uniform, her scrunched-up face peering back at her from their full length mirror. The new pip on her collar shone darkly, matching her mood.
Robin came over. “You look fine,” she said. “You’ll be fine.”
Lefler would get a new room-mate soon because in the next few days, Sonya would be allocated her own quarters. Now she’d made Junior Grade Lieutenant she’d get a room to herself and she had been excited and proud but now… everything was just awful and her joy and pride had simply evaporated. She and Lefler had both been on Project Pulsar, so at least they had been able to talk to each other about the whole horrible situation. Sonya thought she might have gone mad if she hadn’t been able to do that.
Now she was getting ready to be… interviewed? Questioned? Interrogated? Sonya knew she had a gift for catastrophising, but honestly? This situation basically called for it. She felt sick and shaky and she was brim-full with apprehension.
“Lt Worf and Commander Troi! They’re like the tag team from hell.” She was getting close to being in a full-on flap, fifteen minutes before her ’appointment’. “What if I say something wrong? You know what I’m like, things just… come out.”
“Try to calm down. What could you say? They have clearance on Project Pulsar, so you can’t say anything about that you shouldn’t.”
“I guess,” Sonya said, her voice practically a wail.
“You want to know the way I’m looking at it?” Lefler said.
“Anything that might help,” she said in desperation.
“They want the same thing we do, Sonya. They want to find Commander La Forge and Commander Lewis, find out how the hell this could have happened and they want to bring them back safe. I know I’m going to do every damned thing I can to help make that a reality.”
Sonya looked at her friend. “Leveller,” she said fondly, playing on her friend’s name and her capacity for keeping so calm and level-headed in a crisis. Something Sonya very much didn’t.
Robin stepped away and suddenly snapped to attention. “Lieutenant Gomez,” she said and then saluted. She actually saluted which hardly anyone ever did any more.
“Robin!” she said, trying to get her friend to stop messing about.
But Robin remained, at attention and saluting, unwilling and, okay, technically unable to stand at ease until her superior officer returned the salute and gave the order.
“You’re really going to make me do this?” Sonya mumbled, all embarrassed now.
“Aye, sir,” Robin said, her eyes straight ahead.
So Gomez did the only thing she could and gave Robin an awkward little salute and then said, “Stand at ease, Ensign,” whilst feeling like an idiot.
When she did so, it was much to Sonya’s relief.
“You’ve got this,” Robin said. “Law 24 – Trust Yourself. Law 3 – Tell The Truth. Law 47 – Treat Yourself When It’s Done.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, we’ll go to Ten Forward or the Holodeck, I have some hours owing.”
“That sounds like a great idea. Thanks, Robin.”
“It’s pretty much a debrief, with added awfulness. Deep breaths, keep focused and remember why we’re doing this.”
Sonya nodded and squared her shoulders. “For Geordi and Commander Lewis.”
“Congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant Gomez,” Worf said, metaphorically tripping Sonya up before she’d even gotten into the room. He’d been lurking outside, waiting for her, ready to pounce. With niceness…?
“Uh… thank you, sir.”
“It is a great accomplishment,” he said as they entered the room, which wasn’t laid out at all how she’d expected. It wasn’t harsh metal and cold lights, it was more like Counselor Troi’s office, soft sofas surrounded a low, round coffee table with water and juice provided.
Sonya took the offered seat across from the two senior officers.
“I know Commander La Forge was very proud of your achievement,” Worf continued.
“Yes, sir,” Sonya said, before realising that might sound big-headed and then she panicked. “No, sir. Was he? Maybe?”
Counselor Troi smiled at her. “It’s alright, Lieutenant. Try to take some deep breaths.”
“I was not attempting to ‘catch you out’,” Worf said.
“No, sir. I’m sorry, I’m… it’s all so awful. I don’t know what to do. I want to help. Anything to help find Geordi… Commander La Forge and Commander Lewis. I don’t know if I can. Do anything, that is… It’s all so awful.”
“It is,” Worf said. “These interviews will assist us in our investigation and your… keenness is noted and appreciated.”
“These are formal interviews, on the record,” Counselor Troi stated. “Your statements here will be entered into the official report and could be used in evidence at any future hearing. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Sonya’s heart was thumping but she felt a little less sick than she had on waking.
“Good. If you want an independent witness to sit in, you can request one.”
“No, it’s fine. No, thank you, sir.”
Then it started, the questions about Project Pulsar, about her own role, her colleagues, anything that she felt was strange or out of place, anyone behaving oddly or any issues that in retrospect seemed suspicious. Sonya honestly and deeply racked her brain on each and every question and answered as best as she was able. It had been one of the best times of her life, nothing had seemed wrong, no one had seemed strange, and she’d gotten news of her promotion just three days before that fateful first crewed flight. She knew she was probably rambling, but it was the fullest and most honest account she was able to give.
“Now, Sonya,” Counselor Troi said, and it was odd that she used her first name. “Can you tell us what this is?”
Worf passed a PADD across the table and Sonya took it, a coolness from both Worf and Troi now evident.
She looked at the display and it was a recording of a degraded subspace signal. Sonya glanced up at the other officers and then keyed the PADD, going deeper into the data she had been presented with. After a few minutes and with ice-cold fear leeching into her stomach, she placed it very carefully back on the table.
“Your analysis, Lieutenant,” Worf ordered.
Sonya swallowed and her throat clicked.
“It’s… it’s a subspace RF carrier wave with an inversion on the initial identifier spike...”
“Which is?” Troi prompted.
“Which is indicative of a Romulan communique,” Gomez said, numb with shock and on some sort of autopilot.
“From where did the communication originate?” Worf asked, his voice now shorn of any warmth.
Sonya looked at the PADD and she felt like she was a thousand kilometres above it, above herself, looking down on this dread little scene.
“From… from the Enterprise, sir.”
“More specifically,” he demanded.
“From room 08-2147.”
“Whose access code was used in the transmission?” Troi asked.
Sonya Gomez lifted her head and it was as if she were made of stone.
“Mine was, sir,” she answered.
Taibak fashioned a subservient smile of greeting as his comm screen flickered into life. It was bad enough that he had had to deal with the military’s involvement last time, it was near to intolerable that those self same military types had now infiltrated and infested the Tal Shiar. Some sort of coup far above Taibak’s rank and the balance of power had shifted towards the Imperial Fleet. For the time being.
At least his contact, Sela, remained constant. He felt he had the measure of her: she was cold and cruel and ruthlessly pragmatic but with a deep-rooted need to prove herself worthy. It was a weakness Taibak would not hesitate to exploit, should that ever become necessary.
Still, Sela’s shock of golden hair never failed to irk Taibak. That this creature with Human pollution running in her veins should rise to a rank above his, that she should question and impugn his approach as if she had even the first clue about what he had accomplished. However, it wouldn’t do to antagonise his newly-appointed overseer. Perhaps she would be in a good mood, given the recent promotion and the elevated status.
“Your last report was encouraging,” Sela said, getting directly to business.
“We have made excellent progress and the second of our eight stages is now in motion.”
“That may be so, but I’m concerned.” She jabbed distractedly at a device in her hand. “This level of surgical intervention can’t possibly go unnoticed once La Forge is returned.”
Taibak widened his smile, relishing her ignorance and her obvious, boorish manner.
“If you would refer to my addendum, part 3, section 4, you will see I have developed a sub-quantum regeneration process. Once La Forge’s conditioning is complete, he will be removed from the apparatus. The injuries to his skull, skin and to his veins will be healed beyond their ability to detect. It will be as if it never happened.”
“I hope you’re right, for your own sake as well as for your family’s.”
The threat was an idle one, as far as Taibak was concerned. His father was old, his mother already dead and he was estranged from his brother. She would have done better to threaten his research, he held that far more dear than mere bonds of blood. After all, their first and only duty was to the Empire and to no other.
“It has been extensively tested on other human subjects,” he explained, as if to an infant. “Rest assured, his injuries will be fully healed and undetectable.”
“The shuttle was a loss. That hasn’t gone undetected, either by Starfleet or by the Tal Shiar.”
“My dear General, the tactical acquisition of the subjects and their shuttle was clearly the responsibility of Commander Jorek. He remains in command of this vessel and the overall mission. Should the Tal Shiar have… concerns in this area, may I respectfully suggest they be taken up with him.”
Sela smiled at him and it was a slow, sly, creeping thing. “Very well. There is a contingency is in place?”
“Yes, of course. We have a Rigolian freighter at our disposal. We will place Commander La Forge aboard, they will claim to have recovered him from an escape pod. Due to their limited speed and communications whilst traversing the depths of the Lorenz Nebula, the delay in notifying Starfleet of his recovery will be explained.”
“How reliable will these Rigolians be when they’re being questioned by Starfleet Intelligence?”
Taibak stared at her, the threat of a Starfleet interrogation about as frightening as being accosted by a Kritellian kitten.
“We have their parents and child detained on Romulus – the freighter is a family business and all were aboard when our sister ship commandeered their vessel. I am sure their cooperation will be total.”
“It had better be. Keep me informed. Sela out.”
When her image vanished, Taibak sneered at the screen before returning to his work. The current scenario was perhaps the most important, and he was keen that all should go as planned.
Geordi staggered in his mother’s arms, his fingers twisted into the rough cloth of her cloak. He felt Bochra rush to his side. In shock and shaking uncontrollably, they ushered him over to the sofa.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” his Mom said, taking down the hood that had half-hidden her face. “You just breathe, nice and slow.”
“I am sorry,” Bochra said, his head bowed. “I should not have sprung this as a surprise.”
With his breath still juddering into his lungs, Geordi saw his mother sharply turn towards Bochra.
“Are you suggesting you should have disobeyed an order, Centurion?” his mother said, severe and stern in her aspect.
Bochra grimaced but the look vanished in a millisecond. “No, Commander. I misspoke.”
“Hey,” Geordi gasped. “What the hell is going on?”
“I thought the shock of seeing me might jog more memories loose,” his Mom said, rubbing his back like she had done when he was little.
“I can’t… I can’t believe this.” Geordi shook his head, the inside of which felt like a bomb had gone off. His ears were ringing, his hands were shaking and he could barely form a coherent thought. “How is this even possible?” he managed between sucking in wholly inadequate air.
His mother sighed and it sounded just a little irritated. “I know this is a lot, but you need to try to remember for yourself.”
“Mom!” Geordi tried to shout. “You vanished two and half years ago!” Geordi squeezed his eyes closed and the vibrant spectrum of colours, so uniquely his mother’s, glowed in his vision. “No trace. No wreckage. Nothing. How the hell are you here?”
He felt Bochra’s arm slip around his waist. “It would seem his memories remain inaccessible,” he said and if Geordi wasn’t mistaken, there was a tiny bit of triumph in his voice.
“We can always rely on you,” his mother said, loaded with a sweetness that sounded deadly, “to state the completely obvious.”
“Commander,” Bochra acknowledged, but he hardly sounded chastened.
Geordi’s head was swimming, but an unpleasant extra note resonated in his brain – his lover and his mother didn’t get along and they were sniping at each other.
“Sweetheart,” his Mom said, “if you’re really struggling, I can give you the shortened version and we can fill in any gaps later, okay?”
He couldn’t do much other than agree and so he leaned back, his head now pounding, whilst his mother explained how it was that she wasn’t dead.
“As you’ve probably guessed,” she began, arching one very elegant eyebrow, “I am an agent of the Romulan Empire. I was recruited whilst in high school, where my aptitude made it clear that I would join Starfleet. My sympathies, however, lay elsewhere than the Federation. This was noted, I was inducted and began to act as an intelligence asset whilst at the Academy.
“I began the process of recruiting you when you were still in Junior High. You were clearly going to join Starfleet and I wanted to make sure you were on the right side of history. Your sister showed no interest in following either on my or your father’s footsteps.”
“Dad?” Geordi murmured, wondering if he too, was a spy.
His mother laughed, long and clear. “Oh no! The very idea! It would be deliciously silly. As if the Empire would have need of a man who crawls around in the dirt, chasing ants and crickets and spiders.”
The thought had clearly amused her very much, and Geordi could only surmise that neither his father nor Ariana knew anything about their loyalty to the Empire.
“Things essentially remained that way until I was given command of the Hera.” Geordi’s mother paused, a cold, distant look in her eyes. It was a few moments before she continued. “When this was communicated to my handler, I received new orders. I was to deliver my crew into the embrace of the Empire at the first available opportunity.”
She said this like it was a triumphant act, like it was an act of great bravado. Geordi took off his VISOR, pain drilling into his temples.
“They were Vulcan,” he said, almost to himself.
“80% of my crew were,” his mother agreed. “A tithe, demanded by those in the Senate still wounded by the transgressions of one Ambassador Spock.”
Geordi felt sick, but it didn’t make sense. “Why disappear them to Romulus and not claim it?”
The pain of not knowing, the absence of even a tiny fragment of hope, had nearly driven him mad. In his desperate scramble for something, anything, to hold onto in the search for her, he’d nearly lost his life.
“You are so naïve sometimes,” his mother chided. “The longer the mystery of the Hera goes on, the longer it haunts Starfleet and the Vulcans, the more devastating the truth will be once revealed. The long game, my sweet, dear son, and the eternal patience of the Empire will deliver victory to us and our cause.”
Geordi was reeling, his head a mess of pain, shock and confusion. He started to feel strange, he was shivering hot and cold and there was a strong citrus scent, like sharp, sour oranges, filling his senses. He heard himself make a loud, groaning sound as air left his lungs, then he heard his mother and he heard Bochra, united it seemed in shouting his name with concern. The last thing he felt was his body begin to thrum. Then he passed out.