After sharing cramped junior officer quarters on the USS Drake for six weeks, Tasha found her octagonal studio spacious and peaceful, if Spartan. She wondered if she shouldn't make an effort to decorate – almost nothing distinguished her dorm room from its generic underpinnings. One of her roommates on the winter cruise, a Vulcan science officer, had rearranged any piece of furniture not welded down and covered every available surface with meditation paraphernalia: cloths, candles, paintings… When Tasha and the other roommate protested, the imperturbable woman had replied that as neither of them had brought anything decorative, there was no reason that she should be punished for bringing enough for all three of them. Tasha had had no counterargument ready for that logical statement, and slowly grew accustomed to the room's semidarkness, elevated temperature, and glow from the meditation flames.

But she'd missed the quiet and solitude of her own room. She dismissed the notion of decorating; she had more important concerns: a new semester of classes and the upcoming postseason games foremost among them. She'd had to go on five or six hours of sleep a day to keep up with her workouts, and begged and wheedled her roommates into swapping their most hated duties for precious holodeck time. Grubbing out plasma manifolds was a fair exchange for getting a chance to practice on the holodeck and stay at peak performance.

She tapped her combadge. "Yar to Worf." There was no answer. They weren't required to report to campus for another day – he was probably squeezing the last drops of home cooking and comfort out of his family. She was on the verge of feeling lonely, as much as she'd missed being alone. She considered calling him via his parents' computer.

As if in response to her thoughts, a call came over her communicator. "Roberts to Yar."

"I was starting to think I was the only one on campus."

"Never fear. Bobby is here to rescue you from your long days of staring out the window and pining for my company."

"Window? Cadets don't get windows on starships. We get bunk-beds and inflexible roommates."

"Let's go for a walk – I think it finally stopped raining. Meet me in the quad?"

Not only was it not raining, but the haze had burned off enough for a sliver of sun to peek through the grey blanket in the sky. Tasha was glad that they were meeting outside on neutral ground. She'd had some time over break to think about their relationship and she wasn't proud of herself. She had so far met Bobby's sincerity with nothing but ambiguity. It wasn't really fair. When she saw him across the quad, tall and quick with a bounce in his step and the sun beaming rays out behind him, she wondered why she couldn't open her heart to him. She found him attractive, his personality nonthreatening. Why was it so difficult to let go and try to love him? But the mere thought made her go cold. What was love, anyway – a pretense, a myth, a lie, a puzzle, an excuse, a mystery?

"Hey, beautiful." Bobby crossed the space between them in a few long strides and crushed her in a hug.

Tasha felt shy, and yet his body felt familiar. "Hi." She could see that he wanted to kiss her. She pulled away to make the temptation less intense. They were in uniform, and as deserted as the quad was, she was reluctant to put on a show.

He contented himself with smoothing the bangs off her forehead. "You let your hair get long."

"No time for a haircut." She looked down and away. "Did you see Park over break?"

"She spent Christmas with us before she set off for the Trieste. She took the same internship there that you did on the Drake." At Tasha's sullen look, he went on with a hint of defensiveness, "My family expects her. She's spent the holidays with us every year."

"I didn't say anything. It's fine."

Her clipped tone said otherwise. Bobby changed the subject. "Did you get my letters?"

Tasha grimaced. "Yeah, almost every day."

"Too much?"

"It was a little embarrassing. I had zero privacy. My roommates got an earful of some pretty personal stuff before I stopped playback."

"So you said. I sent text after that, just like you ordered."

"I still can't believe what you put in writing. You have a very dirty mind."

"I was trying to shock you into writing me back."

"I'm not easily shocked."

"Two letters, Tasha. I wrote you nearly every day."

"Because you were bored! I was busy. The captain and the first officer were totally old school. They had me doing every menial, back-breaking task they could come up with. The CO is an old, bitter man. The crew says he's not going to retire – he's going to go up in a puff of sulfur and brimstone."

Bobby was not fooled by her attempt at misdirection. "You could have sent me a real letter."

"I shared the camera with two higher-ranked women. I never had a chance."

"I missed seeing you and hearing your voice." Her look of discomfort brought him to the reason he'd wanted to meet on neutral ground. In truth, he'd nearly forgotten how beautiful she was, how distant her eyes. "Since you didn't write to me, I tried to find other ways to remind myself of you."

"I did write. Twice."

He forged on before he could lose his nerve. "I did some research into the colony where you grew up."

They had been walking idly down the paths lined with purple cabbage and winter rosebushes. Now Tasha stopped and turned to face him, the barrage of emotions rendering her mute.

"There's not a great deal out there, but I read what I could."

She still didn't answer. Her eyes clouded over. He felt his face get hot as he went on. "I had to do something, Tasha. You won't tell me anything, and I only know what they told us in history class." His face softened. "I never imagined any modern human went through anything like that, especially the children and the women."

She thrust out her jaw. "And what do you think of me now? Are you sorry for me?"

He didn't flinch under the accusatory tone. "I think it's incredible that you survived a life like that and made it here. I know you're strong, but you must be much, much stronger than I realize."

She searched his bright green eyes for a mote of insincerity. She couldn't find one, but she felt unable to give in to what she did see there.

Bobby continued, somewhat deflated. "I won't pretend to understand, but at least I can say I have an inkling of what you went through before you were rescued. I'm surprised you ever let me touch you."

"How do you know I was rescued?"

"What else would you call it?"

She picked at her cuticles. "I let you touch me because I'm human. When people used money, it didn't matter that it wasn't a fair or good system, or that some people made out like bandits while other people got hurt; they still needed it."

"What does money have to do with sex?"

Tasha started to walk down the path and Bobby followed. "Let's drop it, okay? I don't want to talk about life on the colony. Not now, not ever."

"Okay. I'm sorry I brought it up."

They walked on in silence. The blanket of clouds muffled the sun once more, and the deepening grey told of the threatening rain.

Tasha didn't see Worf until the first advanced hand-to-hand combat class. They both arrived fifteen minutes early, and she ran to him and pounded his back when she saw him down the hall. "Hey! I tried calling you…"

"I just beamed in this morning. Though it feels like evening. I was excused from the first formation."

"Why did you stay away so long?"

He frowned. "All was not well at home. Nikolai and my father had many disputes."

"Oh, oh no. How terrible."

"Yes. My mother had a hard time. It pains her to see fighting at home."

"Did he come back?"

"Yes. That's why they were fighting – Nikolai did not wish to return. In the end, my father was the victor."

Tasha sat down on the mat at the front of the classroom and started stretching. "Sounds like your break wasn't much fun."

"No." He lowered a glare on her. "But humans place too much importance on fun."

Tasha approached practice that afternoon with trepidation. Would everyone know why she and Park had fought at the end of the semester? Would they have chosen sides? But Peg's hearty "hullo!" and Jackson's merry-go-round hug put that notion to rest. Kailahni and Drexel shook hands all around. Tasha thought it no coincidence that Park was in conference with the head coach while everyone else noisily reunited. Tasha wanted to raise a flag of truce and cautiously approached her. Coach Willoughby walked away as the two young women eyed each other. Park had a perfectly cut bob that ended precisely above her ears in two points that swept her cheeks. She looked gamine and sophisticated. Tasha self-consciously blew her shaggy bangs out of her eyes and made a mental note to see the barber the next day.

"Welcome back," Tasha said.

"Same to you. How was the Drake?"

"A lot of work, but good. They let me have an alpha shift a couple of times. How was the Trieste?"

"Good. I got to take a station on the bridge once. But there was one weird thing…"

"What?"

"One of the bridge officers wasn't… a real person. It was a machine."

This jogged a memory – something Tasha had read the year before. "Was it Lt. Data?"

"Yeah, that was its name. Very odd. I thought it… he belonged to the ship, but it's an automaton."

"I think he's a hero. I read that he was commended for bravery."

"Hmm. He was weird. The rest of the crew gave him a wide berth, and I followed their lead."

Tasha frowned. "That's not very open-minded."

Park put her hands on her hips. "Are you judging me? Sounds pretty narrow-minded to me."

Tasha sighed, "Forget it," and walked away.

After practice, the team went to dinner as a group.

"We finally get to play for an audience. It's about time," said Park.

Drexel nodded, walking alongside Kailahni and swinging her hand.

"How come it works that way in the postseason?" Tasha asked.

"Because some of the quarterfinalists' second teams are better than the first teams we played in the regular season," Peg answered.

"And it's more parrises squares for the crowd. They just can't get enough," added Jackson.

Worf walked along in silence, somewhat apart. Time lag and family worries were combining into a deeply unsettled feeling. Tasha threw glances his way, but didn't say anything. She knew her Klingon friend would talk if and when he felt like it.

In line at the mess hall, Park pinched Bobby's waist. "Are you getting a salad, Roberts? Looks to me like you spent the break eating cookies and lying on the couch."

"So what if I did? Maybe a few more of Mom's chocolate macaroons would've fattened up those cheeks." He gave her cheek a pinch.

"Ow!" She tried to reciprocate, but there was no excess on his bony face. She settled for pinching his neck.

"Hey!" He grabbed her with one arm and started pinching her down her sleeve, jostling Jackson, just ahead of him. She squirmed and laughed, batting his hand away. They carried on until Bobby caught the serious look in Tasha's eyes, watching them and scratching at the corner of her lip with one short fingernail. He abruptly let Park go, flushing deep red.

"Behave, children," Jackson drawled with a roll of his eyes.

Tasha met Park's eyes and saw the frank challenge within.

"If they would just post the bracket already," Peg was saying, finishing the last bites of her meal. "I could see who Minsk faces first. It could be to our advantage if it's a tough team."

"What if it's us?" Drexel asked.

"Let's hope not."

"I don't care," retorted Jackson. "I want revenge."

"Then you better bring it in practice. They're going to be a bitch to beat."

Worf sat with his head down and feet splayed out, his dinner half-finished in front of him.

"Worf, what do you think? You haven't said two words together," said Tasha.

He didn't answer or move.

"Worf?" Tasha poked one folded arm.

As if she'd flipped a switch, he began to snore. Loudly.

It sent the table into guffaws. "He must've been up for more than a day straight," Tasha got out. "C'mon, big guy. Let's get you into bed."

As they all rose from their seats and tried to wake him, Bobby tugged Tasha's arm and whispered in her ear, "Let someone else take him home. I want you to come home with me."

She hesitated, but as Drexel and Jackson supported the drowsy Klingon between them, she nodded agreement.

They split up at the door, the three young men dragging off to the freshman dorm with Kailahni trailing behind, Peg to the study center, and Park, Bobby and Tasha towards the upperclassman halls. Park kept up steady chatter about her postseason lineup speculations. When they reached the path that diverged to Cochrane Hall, she asked, "Are you going to do the chivalrous thing and walk us home?"

Bobby's voice was firm but kind. "Jeon Yee, Tasha and I are going to hang out for a while longer. Alone."

A look of pain passed swiftly over her face. "'Kay. G'night." She wheeled and walked briskly away.

Bobby and Tasha shared a look. "Was that harsh?" he asked.

She shook her head no.

They walked down the path to Feynman Hall. "I didn't really see what you were telling me about over break. Park has been like a sister to me from the start, and I rag on her and give her a hard time, same as I do my brothers. But when you're around, it's different. I can feel… her competitiveness. But I don't want to hurt her. We've been friends for four years – that's a long time. She knows me pretty well. She knows I love attention, and she gives me what I want. I eat it up – I admit it. But it doesn't mean we'll ever be more than friends."

Tasha sighed. "I don't know what to say. I've tried to be her friend."

"I know you have. It's very big of you."

"I'm not so sure that it is. It could be selfish – I don't deal well with rejection."

He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Are you saying I'd have a better chance with you if I pushed you away?"

She shrugged. "Someone's gotta do the chasing."

He laughed and walked on. "At least you admit that you run away."

"Haven't you noticed? I'm a very good runner."