Watching the Sunset

Section 3

The yellow sun glowed warmly in the blue California sky. It was late spring, just before the weather turned truly hot. The medium, green stalks of grass bent slightly in the gentle breeze, while bird song and the sent of wildflowers drifted about. Insects moved under and over the grass, crawling, hopping and flitting from blade to blade. One insect in particular captured the intense attention of the Android lying in the turf. The insect hopped onto a blade of grass, turned around, and stared back at Data. It was a tiny, nymph grasshopper, barely one centimeter long. Its head, like most infants, was far larger in relation to its body than an adult’s. Its jewel-like compound eyes caught the light in a way reminiscent of dewdrops. A tiny dark spot played about the surface of its eyes, looking so much like a pupil that some might think it was. The baby grasshopper cleaned one of its straight antennae with its front foot, then stretched one of its tiny hind legs, exposing minuscule barbs and little claws. Two black stripes ran down the back of the nymph, from just below its eyes to the tip of its abdomen. From between its eyes came a long, cream colored stripe reminiscent of a skunk. If the little grasshopper had been otherwise all black, it might have looked like a skunk, but the tiny herringbone pattern on its hind legs was off-white, as were its legs. The grasshopper turned around again, preparing to leap to another blade of grass. This little grasshopper was far too young to have even the tiniest of wings. The baby grasshopper leaped, and Data watched in fascination as the tiny legs pushed off the grass. The grasshopper landed on a near-by bit of clover, so Data carefully crawled toward it. Before Data could settle down to watch the nymph, two giant feet, relatively speaking, clad in Parisses Squares boots scared the grasshopper away. Without looking up, Data knew the feet belonged to Tasha Yar.

"Hello," said Data. He scanned the grass until he found the grasshopper, then moved slowly toward it.

Tasha watched in disbelief as Data stalked what looked like just more grass. He never looked more feline in movement than now. With the effortlessness born of practice, she derailed that thought in favor of the previous disbelief. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"I am watching a nymph grasshopper," Data informed her matter-of-factly. He settled down in the grass again, intently contemplating the tiny insect.

"Why?" She didn’t add that she thought it a little strange for someone to spend their shore leave staring at bugs.

Data looked up at her. "I have never seen this particular variety of grasshopper before. Its coloration is striking." He paused, then added, "It is fascinating."

"How can you find a tiny little bug fascinating? Don’t you have better things to do?" She noticed Data’s expression change slightly, but she didn’t quite know what it meant.

Still looking up at Tasha, Data asked, "Have you ever watched a grasshopper?"

"No. Seen one bug, you’ve seen them all." She didn’t exactly feel that way; part of her wanted to see what it was about the grasshopper that was so fascinating, or rather see what it was in Data that could be so fascinated. But it seemed too childish, or too interested.

"I have not ‘seen them all,’" Data stated, his voice touched with a slight emphasis that said the statement was an answer to her second question rather than a reply to her last comment. He returned to his contemplation of the insect.

It took Tasha just a moment to realize he was answering her question. She sat down carefully and succeeded in not disturbing the tiny grasshopper. She plucked at a long blade of grass, suddenly uncomfortable. A minor war ensued between her impulsiveness, her curiosity, her intense desire to suddenly be somewhere else, the two-horned problem of her very real but completely denied attraction to Data, and her strong sense of privacy. For a moment the war raged, then in an almost conscious effort to pretend she was not in pitched battle with herself, she asked Data where Geordi was. "I was looking for him when I came by. He promised he would play Parisses Squares with us, but I think I’m going to have to twist his arm to keep his promise." She mentally congratulated herself on a totally innocuous question.

Data looked over at her, saying, "He went to look for you. He also thought it strange that I should spend my time ‘bug watching instead of experiencing life.’"

"Oh." Tasha paused, then added, "I probably should go find him." She made no move to leave. Instead she watched the grasshopper. She watched it extend one tiny leg then shake its little foot. It turned on its blade of grass and wiggled its antennae. Its little eyes gleamed and its small legs moved. Such a tiny thing. Before the thought registered, she blurted out, "But this is experiencing life for you, isn’t it?" She hadn’t quite wanted to ask that, it was almost too personal, too prying; she almost felt as though she couldn’t act normally around him, and she wondered if it was because she didn’t want Data to get any mixed messages or if she was just worried about doing something really stupid. Certainly she was no stranger to ill-conceived conduct.

Data tilted his head slightly, his face expressionless. "Yes," he said simply, without his characteristic elaboration. He turned back to looking at the grasshopper, but this time it was without the intensity of before. He apparently had something on his mind. Tasha was secretly relieved that Data hadn’t asked her any questions.

Both continued to look at the little grasshopper without seeing it for a few moments that felt, to Tasha at least, as hours. Data finally broke the silence. "Most humans do not accept this as a valid pursuit. Little I do seems of value to them." His tone betrayed a deeper meaning to the words he voiced, and a reluctance to discuss it further. Something in the tone of his voice started Tasha feeling guilty, as though she had done something wrong, but she couldn’t think of what it was.

Unfeeling logic left no room for hurt or insult. But Data sure did sound hurt and insulted. Maybe she was hearing things. Maybe Data only sounded that way because of some programming. As soon as that thought occurred to Tasha, it seemed too grotesque to be true. It would be a hideous farce, a horrible lie for that hurt tone to be programming. It would mean that Data was nothing but a machine, no, less than that, less than nothing. Somehow she couldn’t accept that. He was too gentle, too kind, too real to be nothing but an awful delusion. That left her with one option, the one that she now realized should have been obvious from the very start: he wasn’t unfeeling. That was quite a can of worms, as the Terran Humans say, but it was long since opened, and those metaphorical worms had been crawling around for quite some time. Data was not unfeeling.

For some reason that observation brought to Tasha’s mind questions that only needed to be asked before the observation was made. Feeling persons do things irrational without anyone needing to look further for a reason. Those very same irrational acts should raise eyebrows when performed by utterly rational beings, shouldn’t they? And a certain supposedly rational being who can’t feel any pleasure had done something, or rather let something happen that shouldn’t have even interested him under the best of conditions. Why? It made no sense, unless the aforementioned rational person wasn’t so rational... If I hadn’t been as drunk as a Saurian on Year’s End, I might have thought to ask, thought Tasha with not a little embarrassment. But then again, if I hadn’t been, it really would have "never happened," and I wouldn’t have needed to think about why. Tasha abruptly knew what it was that she was feeling guilty about. Telling Data "it never happened" seemed like a Good Idea At The Time, but now, three months later, she wasn’t so sure. Now it seemed extremely selfish. She didn’t know if she warranted feeling guilty over it, but she had an inkling, and she needed to be sure. If she had hurt Data in any way, she needed to know, even if it meant taking a peek into what might very well be Pandora’s Box. She did not look forward to asking ‘why?’ in order to confirm her feeling, but ask she would.

After she looked at the grasshopper for a little longer.

The tiny insect inconsiderately hopped away.

Tasha fiddled with a blade of grass, hoping that Data would follow the grasshopper and thereby lend her more time to put off asking her questions. He didn’t; instead he rolled over on his back, laying his hands across his chest. He closed his eyes and began breathing in an odd way, inhaling and exhaling very slowly.

"Now what are you doing?" Tasha asked, grateful for the short time to procrastinate.

"I am smelling the air and the scents carried on the air."

Another obscure pastime. "What sort of things do you smell?"

Data thought for a brief instant, then answered, "Among other things, nitrogen, oxygen, seventeen varieties of wildflower, ten varieties of butterfly, several hundred nymph grasshoppers, squirrels, frogs, toads, cotton-tail rabbits, six varieties of snake, many birds, grasses, some bushes, trees, you, and a game of Parisses Squares. They may have started without you, or perhaps they are practicing."

Shocked, Tasha asked, "How can you possibly smell a game of Parisses Squares!?"

"We are downwind. All members of the team are of mammalian species, and mammals sweat. That is what I smell, well as their clothing. You said there was a game planned, and I assumed that is why I smelled what I did."

"Are all your senses that good?" It was an almost frightening thought, that Data could be aware of things that no one else could ever know. How many people can count grasshoppers by scent?

"No. My sense of taste is not generalizing enough. I can only taste ingredients."

"Oh." Tasha paused for a long moment while Data continued sniffing the air. She waited as long as she could stand to wait, then she asked, "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Data replied, "You may ask." But I may not answer, Tasha added mentally.

Tasha looked down at her hands a moment, then ran one through her short blond hair. She sighed sharply, then asked in a tone somewhat harsher than she intended, "Why did you let me seduce you?"

Data opened his eyes to look at her in a manner such as one would expect if he were asked his personal thoughts on the direction of the wind. In a tone equally unperturbed, Data asked, "We are speaking hypothetically?"

Tasha blinked a few times. "Um," she muttered. Data never reacted the way he was supposed to. She thought she would have at least caught him off-guard, instead he surprised her. "Um," she continued, "no, no, we’re not speaking hypothetically."

"If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

She thought for a moment, then answered, "Yeah, I promise." As she had long ago, he must have discovered that privacy gave him safety from the hypocritical world, with its nice face and iron teeth.

Data looked up at the clear blue sky for a moment. "Will you be angry if I answer truthfully?" He sounded subdued.

"What?" Tasha replied loudly, "Why would I be angry? I’m trying to get an honest answer here!"

Data continued in the same quite tone. "I have often found that humans become upset, uneasy, and sometimes angry when they discover certain things about me. I am unsure why. Perhaps it is because I am a machine, and as such they believe I have no right to it."

Tasha narrowed her eyes at her companion. She pulled up one leg and set her chin on her knee, crossing her arms in front of her shin. "What exactly is ‘it,’" she asked thoughtfully.

Data looked back at her. He made a little noise that might, might have been a sigh. "A need." He flicked his gold eyes back to the sky. "I need someone to love me."

Of all the things Tasha was not expecting, that was certainly farthest from her mind. She was sure she had been prepared for some response, just not that one. It took a few moments for the disclosure’s fuller significance to register. It did register, coloring many things in wide strokes of dark. Oooooh my... thought Tasha as she slid her face down so that her forehead now rested on her knee. Pandora’s Box indeed. She felt awful, really, really, awful. Well of course he let me seduce him! Didn’t I say practically the same thing, "I want love from you," or something like that? Tasha thought to herself. I lead him on (didn’t I?) then told him it never happened. How could I not have hurt him!

"I’m sorry Data," said Tasha, her voice muffled by her suit. She peeked her head out from behind her leg. "I shouldn’t have told you it never happened. That was really selfish of me, and I didn’t even think about how you felt about it." She felt slightly less guilty after apologizing.

Data sat up and looked at her for a moment. He said softly, "You did not hurt me."

"What?...How?...," Tasha sputtered. He had blind-sided her again; he still wouldn’t react the way he was supposed to, that is, the way she expected.

Data paused a moment, then said, "All you did was correct me. I thought it was something more, and I was wrong. I am grateful that you did not avoid the issue, leaving me to believe you felt something for me that you did not."

I don’t quite believe you, she thought, and I was avoiding it! An instant later, and without her permission, she said, "Maybe you weren’t wrong."

Data’s expression never changed. Somehow, though, Tasha felt as though he were looking right into her, as though she had suddenly captured his undivided attention. He looked at her that way for a second or two, then asked carefully, "I was not wrong? You did feel something for me?"

"I didn’t say that! I said maybe," she replied, wishing that at some point in her life she had learned the art of controlling her tongue. She started plucking at the poor, beleaguered blade of grass again. "I said maybe," she repeated, more to herself.

"I am right about this: humans rarely have sex casually, even if they think they do," Data noted, "and I believe you have confused yourself more than you have confused me." He laid back and started sniffing the air again.

Tasha continued plucking at the grass, thinking. He was probably right; that minor war had been going on longer than just today, though it settled down sometimes. She was loath to admit it, but she had been fighting with herself about Data from the first day she met him. She plucked at the grass again, this time pulling it apart. She began fiddling with the blade in an attempt to stop thinking. It was working, for the moment.

"May I ask you a personal question?" Data asked, completely breaking Tasha’s concentration on the torn grass.

"Yeah, I guess." She twirled the grass between her fingers, wishing that grasshopper would come back and distract Data. He was notorious for asking difficult questions, and she had a feeling this time was no exception.

"Do you think anyone would ever love me?"

She didn’t think she would have much trouble answering that question. "I think so, yes."

Data glanced at her again, but because she was twirling the grass, she didn’t see it. In his usual direct manner he asked, "Do you think you could ever love me?"

Tasha stopped fiddling with the grass. She thought she’d gotten away without having to answer an extremely hard question. She was apparently dead wrong. "Me?" she postponed.

"Yes."

"Why? You want me to?"

"Yes."

She stared at Data almost incredulously. It was singularly impossible to believe that not only did he need someone to love him, but he wanted that someone to be her! Specifically! How could she have managed to get an emotionless Android to feel that way about her? Could he, at some unknown point along the line, fallen in love with her?

"Data, are you in love with me?"

He said plainly, "I cannot love."

"Then what can you do?" she asked, determined to get a straight answer.

He looked a bit confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Don’t start dodging the question. You do too many things that only irrational, feeling people do to be completely logical. What makes you do those things? What makes you want me to love you?"

"Your last question is easier to answer," Data said. "I think you trusted me not to hurt you, as those on Turkana IV did. You do not act toward me as others do; you are not condescending, and you do not become irritated with me so easily. And you did not become angry with me today." He thought for a brief moment, then added, "I trust you not to...hurt me, the way others have in the past."

Tasha smiled a little, saying, "That sounds more like an answer to question number one. I still want to know what makes you do irrational things."

With sounds that no human could make, sounds like bird song and humming, Data said, "qehsehth," he then continued in his normal voice, "there is no other word I know for it."

"Keseth?" Tasha’s brow furrowed for a second as she tried to remember something. She shook her head as if to clear it, saying, "Those sounds reminded me of something. I guess it’s just déjà vu."

Before she could say anything further, Data said, "You have not answered my question."

"All right, all right! Just give me a minute!" He had answered her truthfully, about things that he very likely never spoke of to anyone else; over the course of their conversation, she had gotten the feeling that he was a far more private person than he let on. It was only fair that she be honest with him, even if it meant she had to be honest with herself. For a few minutes, the minor war escalated, then ended abruptly. The minor war was won, and she found that she wanted to answer him honestly because of it.

She crawled over on hands and knees to look at him directly. "I could," she said, touching his face and hair, stroking them with her fingertips. He was cool like water, and soft; his hair was softer than human hair. "I could fall in love with you so easily, and furthermore," she smiled, "I want to."

When he heard Tasha’s answer Data smiled. Perhaps he had been waiting all his life to hear what she said. He had such a beautiful smile, and it was so rare. She bent her head down a little and kissed him gently. After a moment, she moved back and looked him in the eye. She smiled and said, "You have to promise not to tell anyone, though."

"You have my word."

Just as Tasha moved to kiss Data again, that little nymph grasshopper made its spectacularly disruptive entrance. It jumped into Tasha’s ear, scaring her half to death. On reflex she leapt to her feet and started scratching at her ear. Several Russian obscenities were heard, most directed at grasshopperkind in general and some of them at her blond hair for not being long enough to keep grasshoppers out of her ears. Data stood up and looked into Tasha’s ear to see if the grasshopper was stuck and to try to get it out. It wasn’t in need of help; it crawled out and hopped onto Data’s shoulder. Tasha glared daggers at the little thing, but it cleaned its antennae, oblivious.

Geordi jogged up, breathing hard from the practice. He slowed down, then walked up to talk to Data and Tasha. He turned to look at Tasha, asking, "Where have you been? I looked all over for you before practice. I wouldn’t let Worf and Riker start the game without you, especially since you’re the one who dragged me into it in the first place!"

Tasha scratched her ear again, then said, "I’m sorry. I got caught up talking to Data and I lost track of time. I never knew grasshoppers could be so involving."

Geordi’s jaw dropped slightly. He closed his mouth, then opened it again. He finally managed to get out, "You guys talked about grasshoppers all this time?"

Data was his normal inscrutable self, and he didn’t say anything. Tasha answered, with the slightest irritation, "Yes, we did. They’re fascinating little things."

Geordi looked from Data to Tasha. He could see she wasn’t being exactly honest, but he didn’t pry. "They must be more interesting than I thought. Data, you’ll have to tell me about them after the game. Come on, Tasha. You know how Worf gets when he has to wait to send someone to Sickbay." Geordi waited until Tasha started after him, then turned and started off to the game.

Tasha followed Geordi, turning for a moment and saying to Data, "We can finish our conversation later, OK?"

"Yes," he answered. When she and Geordi were gone, Data sat down and returned to watching the grasshopper on his shoulder.

* * *

Captain Jean-Luc Picard paced. And paced.

What else was there to do? He had finished his Earl Gray some indeterminate time ago; time seemed to sit still in this black, featureless place. He knew time had not stopped in reality. His own human sense of time was completely subjective and it was subjecting him to endless moments dragging on to more endless moments.

He paced some more. Picard could wait with the best, but even his considerable patience was wearing thin. Pondering how Will or Worf would react to this sort of waiting gave him some perverse amusement, but it was short lived. He knew his Number One was most likely running himself to distraction trying to find out what happened.

Pace, pace. Just as he was about to call out for who ever or whatever was behind this, Data or Q or who ever else, he felt the almost subliminal vibration of the ship moving. He wondered where the ship was headed, but without even so much as a window and without Data or who ever saying so, he had no way of knowing.

For an instant he caught sight of the person claiming to be Data, just a flash, and he was rubbing his arm like he was in pain. Then Data held his arm out, his hand clenched to a fist, almost as if to ward off a blow, and Picard felt in the air the vilest sense of hate he had sensed in a long time. Then Data disappeared again, and Picard heard something dark laughing in his mind...

* * *

Commander Riker and Counselor Troi shared a surprisingly delicious meal of phaser-roast furry animal. What ever it was, it sure did taste good. Troi glanced up from her meal to look at Ensign Sier. She seemed to be enjoying her rather bloody furry animal.

When all the animals were dead, including the Kwi, some Vstrak climbed down into the pit. They leaned over and entwined some dead animals in their arms and passed them up to other waiting Vstrak. The Vstrak above slithered away, to go outside the feasting dome. When the Vstrak in the pit came to the two Kwi, they carefully bundled them in brightly colored cloth. Now protected from the Kwi’s fur, they gathered them up and passed them out of the pit.

Riker stood up and walked over to the Vstrak. He spotted Pljkol’trwzor and asked it, "What are you doing?"

Pljkol’trwzor paused in its work and answered Riker. "These animals and the Kwi are left outside for the other animals and other Kwi. There are many, many scavenging and carrion eating animals on Vs, and the Kwi need the remains back so that more Kwi can be made."

Before Riker could respond, his communicator beeped. "Enterprise to Commander Riker."

Riker slapped his communicator, looking up at the ceiling. "Riker here. What is it, Data?"

"The ravenship has begun moving again. It is right now in orbit of Vs. Do you wish to return to the Enterprise?" Data explained over the comm channel.

"Yes, in just a moment. I need to take my leave of the Vstrak. I’ll signal when."

"Yes, sir. Enterprise out." Riker tapped his communicator off. He then walked over to Rjklyph, who had removed its drape for the work of removing the dead animals.

Rjklyph straightened at Riker’s approach, its tentacles flowing as though under water. Riker said, "I wanted to thank you for the feast, and for the stories and especially the information about your ships. I hope we can use it. Can we keep in touch with you, in case we need further assistance?"

Rjklyph answered, "Of course. All help will be given that can be. The other Vstrak ship has been checked; no one has taken the ship. Do keep in touch; the Vstrak will consider accepting other visitors from the Federation. Good-bye, Raaaikr." Rjklyph returned to its work without another word.

Riker motioned to Troi and Sier to follow him out of the feasting dome. When they went outside, Riker signaled for transport and they were beamed up.

The ravenship wheeled in space, once, then sped toward the Enterprise.

"The Away Team has been beamed up," Worf boomed. "The ravenship is continuing on its intercept course."

"Red Alert, shields up," Data ordered calmly. He heard a low growl from Worf; apparently Worf wished everyone were as hot-blooded as he. Data ignored it. "Evasive maneuvers, Ensign McKnight."

"Aye, sir," replied McKnight. She punched into her Conn console several commands, maneuvering the Enterprise for so many evasions anyone but the stoutest hostile captain would be hopelessly confused. Not so the ravenship. "The ship’s still on an intercept course. We can’t shake it."

Before anyone could react further, the ravenship shot toward the Enterprise. Its beak opened wide, then it seemed to engulf the Enterprise. Suddenly the stars disappeared.

Geordi looked up from the Bridge Engineering station. "What the hell...?" he breathed.

A heaviness settled on the Bridge. The air seemed thick, moist. The light dimmed; it was almost as though the thickness strangled the power from the light. The customary sounds of the Bridge all fell as though weighed down by the suffocating heaviness. Wisps of dark, thick fog floated, bulky but weightless. Voices, like those heard from a distance, through water and rock, filtered through the fog. One voice confused another, sounding over and under the others until all were a hopeless tangle of whispered sound without meaning. Everyone slowed down; the heaviness affected them as it did everything else. Even memory seemed weighted; it became hard for some to remember where they were or what they were doing. So much did the heaviness affect some that they sat dazed, as though caught in one eternal instant with no past and no future.

Data stood up, listening intently to the far-away voices. He made no move; the voices seemed to entrance him.

Geordi looked at each member of the Bridge crew and found that only he and Worf retained a semblance of normality. Everyone else was somewhere in La La Land.

"We aren’t in Kansas anymore." Geordi’s whispered voice fell dead, carried no where in the oppressive heaviness.

In a hurry and on his way to the Bridge, Will Riker slammed face first into a tree.

Riker fell backward, a few choice expletives escaping his lips. "What the hell is a tree doing here?!"

Someone stood behind Riker. The person stepped to his side and offered a hand. Will took it, expecting the cool scaliness of the Deitang, but finding a warm Human hand. Riker looked up and saw the face that belonged to the hand. He fell down again.

The person was Will Riker -- from more than five years ago. His beardless face held no expression. "Go to the Bridge," the young Riker said.

Riker instinctively knew then that the situation was far, far worse than he had imagined.

* * *

The voices troubled Data. So many of them he had heard before; so many had he heard only in his mind. He heard the words; the voices, the sounds; and he understood them. Thousands spoke of things never to be seen in mortal memory; tens of thousands spoke of things new and strange. Data wondered if he was the only one aware of the voices; he fervently hoped others heard them, for if not then he was losing his mind. A year ago the thought wouldn’t even have entered his mind, but after his experiences with the nightmares and hallucinations, especially considering they were not delusional at all but rather a perfectly sane if urgent expression of a previously unknown sense, Data knew that he could lose touch with reality again. Perhaps without warning. Data could find nothing more disconcerting than the thought that he was psychotic and absolutely lucid simultaneously. He sometimes wondered if that worried his companions at all, that he was both sane and insane at the same time.

Data turned to look at Geordi, his expression one of acute awareness of something that wasn’t easily identifiable. "Do you hear them?" he asked. His voice only carried a few inches before it lost all strength.

Geordi shrugged as if to say he hadn’t heard Data’s question. He got up and walked down the ramp to meet Data. "I didn’t hear you. Everything seems to fall dead in the air." Geordi’s voice sounded weak and hollow in the thick air, but otherwise he seemed unaffected by the strange atmosphere.

Data looked out at the air for a moment, then repeated his original question. "Do you hear them? The voices?"

Geordi nodded. "Yeah...yeah, I do. I can’t understand them."

Data looked toward the viewscreen. Such a look of relief passed over his features that it caused Geordi some concern. He said, "Hey, what’s wrong?"

"I thought I might be losing my mind...," Data spoke quietly, as though he were loath to say what he did. He added in explanation, "Many of the voices are such that I know no living person outside myself has ever heard them. I have never actually heard them before now, but I know what they sound like." Data suddenly looked to his right, toward the Briefing Room doors.

Geordi followed Data’s gaze and saw something quite unexpected. There were shapes there, shadowy and indistinct. Most were humanoid, but some were altogether new. Some displaced the fog while others moved through it. More and more appeared, all around the Bridge.

Worf looked ponderously at his console. He slowly spoke, his resonant voice carrying only slightly farther than the rest. "Reports coming in from all over the ship about strange occurrences. Fog, trees, life forms, and this heaviness. This isn’t just happening on the Bridge." He bowed his head for a moment, then shook it as if fighting back sleep. "According to external sensors, there is nothing outside our hull. No ship, no planet, no stars." Worf’s expression clouded; he joined the others in their dazed lack of reality.

Data observed Worf for a moment, thinking. Geordi asked, "Do you think it’s Q?"

"It may be, but I do not think so. It is not his style to play with us from afar. It may be another Q," Data responded. He tilted his head slightly, as if to listen more closely to some unheard noise. "There are strong interphase and subspace fields."

"I don’t see any subspace fields," Geordi replied, lifting his hand to touch his VISOR in a gesture much like rubbing his eyes to double check he was seeing correctly.

The shapes continued to form, some with far more substance than others. One such shape stood directly before the viewscreen. Data set his gaze on the shape as it resolved itself more and more until it was recognizable as a stocky female humanoid. Her face was as bright as a star, so bright that everyone but Data covered their eyes. Data heard one voice among the many, more distinct than the rest for just a few moments. No one else understood the voice, so lost was it among the others.

"Messenger," it said, in a voice like Data’s own but higher in pitch, "we wait for you. We wait for another time and another place." She turned and faded to an ethereal shape and fell into the mist.

"Masaka?" Data asked, concerned and fascinated at the same time.

Geordi looked sharply at Data. He exclaimed, "Was that who that was? Boy, we don’t need any more of her!"

Data gazed at where Masaka had stood, then turned to Geordi. "I do not believe Masaka has anything to do with this. The only places Masaka exists are in the Asakan storage library and in my memory. Both quantities are known; the library is stationary where we found it, and I am incapable of generating a tangible representation of Masaka in and of myself. It is therefore unlikely that Masaka has any hand in this."

Geordi pondered the space before the viewscreen, his face reflecting consternation. "We need some answers."

"I agree," Data responded, "but I see no other alternative but to wait for the answers to present themselves."

Go on to Section 4