Watching the Sunset

Section 4

Deanna Troi turned back to find that Will hadn’t followed her into the Turbolift. She was already on her way to the Bridge. Before she could tell the Turbolift to take her back to Riker’s location, she saw several ethereal forms appear in the car. She watched in shock as they grew progressively more solid and distinct. Captain Picard, Tasha Yar, and Data had joined her.

Deanna stood there for a moment, frozen. How could this be? Troi sensed nothing from the others; they couldn’t even be so much as ghosts. Nevertheless, they stood before her.

Captain Picard spoke first, his voice sounding the same as ever, accent and all. "Hold," he ordered the Turbolift. "Deanna, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Tell Will not to worry either."

Troi asked with trepidation, "Who are you?"

Data answered her. "I am Data," he said, as if his identity were patently obvious, which, all things being equal, it would have been. But all things were not equal.

Troi looked back and forth from one illusion to another. "You can’t be. Who are you really?"

Tasha smiled. "Remember to ask Will what he thinks of immortality. The question just might come up."

Emotions from all sides tore at Deanna. She didn’t realize how much she missed her late friend, how much old hurt and happiness her voice would bring out, but this image, no matter that it looked and sounded like Tasha, was only an image. Deanna Troi sensed nothing behind it. That caused pain, but more it made her angry. Someone was using Tasha’s image for some unknown purpose, as if she were a puppet.

Tasha reached out a hand and took Deanna’s. "I’m sorry you’re hurting, Deanna. I’m...we’re sorry for everything. I wish things could be different. You can’t imagine how much I wish things could be different. But the phoenix has to burn to live again, and the fire has to consume more than the phoenix." She sounded like she thought everything she said made perfect sense. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "Follow the Raven, and let time take its course." Then the images began to disappear, becoming ether again. Deanna’s hand closed on nothing as Tasha’s became mist.

Troi wiped away a tear as she watched the images float away as if they had never been there. She wondered what exactly Tasha had meant by her cryptic statements; nothing the images had said made much sense at all. She stood in the motionless Turbolift for a moment, lost in thought. She came back to reality again and ordered the Turbolift back to pick up Will.

The heaviness on the Bridge continued, filling every corner and dulling senses. Thick fog thickened and the shadowy shapes continued to move about the Bridge, filling it with their unintelligible voices.

"What the hell is going on!" Geordi demanded, with as much authority as he could muster under the deadening weight of the air.

Almost as an answer, a shape began to solidify. It strode right past Geordi and stood before Data. Its shape resolved further and became recognizable as Data’s brother, Lore. He stood there for a few moments, then he began to speak.

Lore spoke to Data alone; no other ears could understand his speech, even though his voice was audible to everyone. Lore’s spoken words mingled with inhuman sounds, "Ehlianihsglehf vehzhieng’nii, sohrzehn, sohriizehn, zlai’azahrmoh?"

Data’s eyes widened. He looked back at the shadowy figures, then back at Lore. His expression confused, he said, "Tehhikei? Sarohjohmnia?"

Lore laughed, then shoved Data back into the captain’s chair. He moved in close to Data, leaning down so his face was two or three inches away. He smiled, not unkindly. It struck Geordi as odd that Lore would have such a striking smile. Lore spoke in Standard this time, saying, "No, no, not really. I just wanted to prove it’s me. I do know exactly what is happening here, however. I understand you better than you know, and see we aren’t so different. Someone gutted us both." Lore paused a moment and shook his head. "You probably don’t quite understand that term. Carhzhohtehth? Is that the right word?"

"Ehzhohtehth." Data answered simply. "There is no such thing as carhzhohtehth."

Geordi whispered under his breath, "Ishoteth?"

Lore smiled again. "No admission and no denial. How like you." His expression changed radically, now reflecting his own emotional discord. Lore paused a moment, glancing up at the skylight, then looked back at Data. "I love you, dear brother, with a passion, but I hate you just as much. That’s why I’m going to enjoy this. I’ll probably loathe myself for it too." Lore stood up quickly, then took a step back. He began to fade into the fog, just as Masaka had.

Data looked at his brother, unsure what to think. "What are you doing here? What is happening?"

"Oh, I’m just adding some spice to the soup." Lore ignored the second question.

Data looked at the floor a second, then said, "I am sorry, Lore."

Just before he became a shadow again, Lore answered his brother. "I know you are."

Data sat there for a long while, thinking. Geordi went and sat down in the counselor’s chair next to Data. He looked a concerned and disappointed at the same time. He asked, "Are you OK?"

Data continued looking a nothing. "I think he gave us some of the answers we seek."

Geordi grumbled inwardly. He found it most annoying when Data sidestepped questions. He found it doubly annoying that Data was so good at it. Sure, Data, go ahead and bring up a more important subject, like the safety of the ship or something like that, Geordi thought sarcastically. He sat there for a second, looking at his Android friend, then said, "I didn’t gather that. He just sounded threatening to me."

Data looked at Geordi, his voice serious. "Who ever is in that ship, who ever kidnapped the captain, that person has done these things for a reason. I do not know what the reason is, but I know this: it concerns me in some fashion. Why else would that person create the voices of people that only I know?"

Geordi nodded, seeing Data’s point. He added, "Or have images addressing you alone. What was that language anyway? You understood it."

"It is my own native language. I doubt anyone speaks it outside Lore and myself."

"Uh huh," commented Geordi. "What did he say?"

Data looked at Geordi. He answered, "It is difficult to translate. It is something he said to me in my quarters when he found that I carried the memories of the Omicron Theta colonists."

In a calm-before-the-storm tone, Geordi asked, "Were you alone when he said it?"

"Yes."

They sat there in silence for a moment. The one responsible for these occurrences was obviously powerful; it was equally apparent he or she had no qualms with reading someone’s entire life story and using it to cause extreme and apparently pointless havoc. Q could do it in his sleep, but, for all his bluster, he was largely harmless. What if, however, it was another Q, or something more dangerous? "This is serious," Geordi understated.

"I agree," Data replied.

In an almost light tone, Geordi commented, "First the captain’s kidnapped on a horse, then Masaka stops by to say hello, and now Lore. Curiouser and curiouser."

"Indeed."

Nazzi ad Sier hissed. The Deitang race as a whole didn’t mind the unknown even an iota as much as the Human; it was surprises that rattled their nerves. Two Commander Rikers standing in front of her qualified as a surprise. She hissed again.

"Go to the Bridge," the young Riker repeated.

The familiar, bearded Riker sat dumbstruck for a second, then accepted the hand Ensign Sier offered. She helped him up, then said, "You need watching. All types of life forms have been appearing all over the ship." Sier sniffed the air with her long tongue, then said in a low tone, "I feel there is something malicious here."

"I think you’re right. Something’s not kosher," Riker agreed.

"Go to the Bridge! What are you waiting for?" The young Riker’s voice was full of impatience.

"Who are you?" Riker asked.

"Isn’t it obvious? I’m you! Now go up to the Bridge and follow the Raven!" The younger Riker vanished without warning. Even the Holodeck had more decency than that young Riker. At least the Holodeck made noise when it dissolved holographs.

Deanna Troi strode up to Riker and Sier. She put a hand on the tree, then said, "I just saw Captain Picard, Data, and Tasha on the Turbolift." She sounded subdued. "Tasha, an image of her, said something about a phoenix and she also asked me to ask you what you thought of immortality. Captain Picard said he was fine and to tell you so."

"That’s odd," he said to himself. Riker looked at her for a moment, then added, "I think we’d better get to the Bridge. I have a feeling that’s where the action is."

The fog fell away and the heaviness lifted. Worf stirred, lifting his ridged head from Tactical. He growled some Klingon obscenities at who or what ever had caused him to sleep at his post. Ensign McKnight suddenly sat up, nearly wrenching her neck. She rubbed it, looking around at the fast clearing Bridge. Other Bridge officers began waking up as well.

Data looked at the viewscreen, then turned to Worf. "Confirm the ship is gone."

Worf studied Tactical, then reported. "Confirmed. The ship has moved off, just at the edge of our short-range sensors. It is not moving."

The Turbolift doors opened, revealing Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, and Ensign Sier. Riker exited the car and strode down the ramp. The others followed. When they reached the bottom of the ramp, Data and Geordi joined them. "Has anything unusual occurred here?" Riker quickly glanced around the Bridge and found nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps his doppelganger had lied to him.

"Oh, I’d say ‘unusual’ is an understatement," Geordi answered.

Data added, "After the ravenship engulfed us, a heaviness--" Data unexpectedly spun around and raised his arms as if to ward off a blow. A blur followed a sharp sound, then Data fell to his knees. He held his head as if he’d just acquired a remarkable headache. Deanna stood motionless, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

Geordi leaned down and asked Data, "Are you all right? What happened?"

Data looked blankly at Geordi for a moment, then stated calmly, "Do not speak to me. I order you stay away from me."

Geordi’s jaw dropped. He tried to say something, but nothing was coming out. After a moment, he said loudly, "That’s outrageous! Are you crazy!?" Will Riker was equally shocked, but Troi continued in deep concentration.

With an edge to his voice that stated he would brook no argument, Data replied, "Leave. If you do not, I will have you escorted off the Bridge."

With a slight tinge of hurt in his voice, Geordi asked, "You’re serious, aren’t you?"

Data’s only answer was in his expression. Serious and pleading at the same time, it caused Geordi to step back. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that Data never did anything without good reason. He was sure that Data must have a reason now as well, but Geordi had no idea what it was.

When Data’s expression slipped into tense panic, when he raked his pale hands through his immaculate hair, when he savagely pulled his head down nearly to the floor, when he choked out some incoherent noise, Geordi made one of the hardest decisions of his life. Against all instinct and all feeling, Geordi backed away and left the bridge. He wanted to stay and help his friend, to do anything but leave, but Data had a reason to want him away. And somehow Geordi knew it was a damn good reason, too.

The turbolift doors closed, sparing Geordi Data’s stare, now hollow and cruel.

Will Riker stalked into the Observation Lounge, followed by Deanna Troi and Ensign Sier. Leaning an arm on the window, Riker looked out the thick transparent aluminum, trying to see the ravenship, but only finding stars. He turned to Troi, and asked, "Do you know what just happened on the Bridge? I was going to ask Data, but it looked like he wasn’t in the mood to talk." He added wryly, "Eat me alive, maybe, but not talk." He shivered, knowing that his joke hadn’t struck very far from the truth. He had never before seen such a chilling expression. He had asked Worf to watch Data, but he wondered how much good it would do.

The counselor put her hands together and rested them on the smooth black table. "When Data spun around, I sensed something familiar, very familiar. It was gone before I could tell what it was. There is something masking it, preventing me from sensing it further." She concentrated, trying to remember everything about the brief instant of familiarity. "I can’t place it. I have sensed it before."

Riker looked out the window again for a moment. After a moment, he strode over to the small viewscreen. He thumbed it on, then said, "Riker to LaForge."

A few seconds passed, then the screen changed from the UFP logo to Geordi’s sullen face. "Yeah, Commander?" he replied without his usual buoyancy.

"I need to know exactly what happened on the Bridge before I got there," Riker said. "Tell me everything."

La Forge proceeded to relay the events on the Bridge after the ravenship swallowed the Enterprise. He explained about the heavy fog, the walking shapes, and the strange voices. He told Riker about every word he said or heard.

Riker listened intently. When Geordi finished, Will commented, "This doesn’t look good for the home team."

"Yeah, that’s what I thought. Come to think of it, the last time Data was worried about checking out was when Masaka and her buddies graced us with their presence. Do think something like that happened again?" Geordi said.

"I don’t know. Maybe," Riker responded.

Counselor Troi added, "I don’t sense anything from Data. It may be an internal problem or external influence. With all that has happened so far, I would say external influence. If this is a situation similar to the one with Masaka, then Data would be subject to both influences."

Sier flicked out her forked tongue briefly. In her slow tone, she said, "I don’t know what Masaka smells like, but she cannot possibly smell as evil as this. There is something malicious here."

Riker turned to face the Deitang. He knew that the Deitang had an uncanny talent for smelling the stronger emotions and general mindset of certain types of life, something a little like the way a dog can smell fear, but on a more sophisticated and intelligent level. He wasn’t about to discount this sense just because there was apparently nothing that would give off that sort of scent. "You mentioned that before. Do you know where the scent is coming from? Could you pinpoint it?"

Sier hissed and grimaced, exposing several extremely sharp teeth. She hissed again. "No. I smelled it down in the Transporter room, the same as here. It is pervasive, as if something is rotting in the walls."

Not a pleasant image. Riker looked at the black table for a moment, then turned to face each person in turn. "This is what we know: who or what ever is responsible for kidnapping the captain has the ability to read all of us like cheap novels, manipulate thinking and actions, create extremely life-like images, move anything through duranium walls, and preserve life in a vacuum without any obvious mechanism. Furthermore, this being is apparently evil and familiar or reminiscent of something familiar. Does this sound like anyone or anything we have ever encountered before?"

The four thought in silence. Deanna was the first to speak. "No, Will. The only thing I have encountered with this power is Q. If the being responsible is as evil as Ensign Sier says, I would say Armus, except that he is not this powerful." She sounded displeased.

Riker thought a moment, then asked, "Do you think the Vstrak have enough telepathic power to affect our thinking?"

"No," Troi stated without reservation, "their telepathy is limited to communication and sensing presence."

"Hmmm. The Vstrak very likely couldn’t kidnap the captain anyway. Assuming we are only dealing with one being or race. We could be dealing with another Q," Riker observed. He tapped his communicator, saying to the air, "Riker to Guinan."

"Guinan here. What is it Commander?" came the response.

"You may have noticed some odd happenings on board," Riker commented.

"Yes, I have. Two animals that looked like sehlats strode up to my bar and cordially asked for wine not too long ago," Guinan replied.

Riker thought that at some other time, that would have been an interesting sight. "We were wondering if you knew whether Q was behind this."

There was silence for a few seconds. "I don’t think so."

Riker drummed his fingers on the table. He thought for a second or two, then asked, "Guinan, do you know of any being with Q-like powers and a serious mean streak?"

A few more seconds of silence, then the bartender spoke again. "The Urulak reportedly have powers comparable to Q’s, and they do have a bad reputation, but their dictatorship is entirely in the Delta Quadrant. It would be very unlikely they would be out this far yet. There is also the Wirt and the High Guard of Char, though another, decent Q holds them out of this dimension."

"Huh. They don’t sound like suspects," Riker said, wondering at how little the Federation knew about the galaxy. He had never heard of any of those races. "Thank you, Guinan."

"Anytime, Commander." Guinan signed off, leaving the officers to their thoughts.

Troi observed, "You know, Will, if the being we are dealing with can dull the thoughts of the entire Bridge crew, it is certainly possible that the familiarity I sense is a guise to trick us. This being could be convincing me that I have sensed it before when I haven’t. It may be purposefully trying to confuse us."

Riker rubbed his eyes. Things were complicated enough without second-guessing their own senses. "I feel like someone’s playing with us, leading us around just to see us go. It’s damn frustrating."

Ensign Sier looked as though she were about to say something when she hissed loudly. She squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her long, thin nose as if she were in pain. An instant later, Riker and Troi slammed their hands over their ears as an intense, piercing shriek reached them. After a few intolerable seconds, the shriek downgraded to an incoherent howling. After an instant to recover, all three officers ran out to the Bridge. Geordi looked out from the viewscreen, wondering what was happening.

Riker, Troi, and Sier entered the Bridge and stopped dead in their tracks. It was Data who was howling. He had begun slowly tearing the pale skin off his lower left arm, exposing his bright gold exoskeleton and allowing his yellow blood to trickle down his fingers. His expression and his voice couldn’t seem to settle on one thing. Across his face passed any number of conflicting expressions, from outrage to horror to disbelief to disgust, and from there back to incoherence. It was exceedingly difficult and painful to watch. Troi averted her gaze while Riker and Sier stood dumbstruck. The rest of the Bridge crew reacted in a similar vein. Everyone shared a feeling of helplessness, the hurt frustration of knowing that someone was in pain and they could do nothing to stop it.

Worf, with his phaser ready, started down the ramp to where Data sat, but before he came within arms reach, Data turned and with a vicious look, made a low, loud noise in Worf’s direction. This was no ordinary noise; the sheer force of the soundwaves knocked Worf off his feet. He fell backward and hit his head on the horseshoe rail, knocking him unconscious. The burly Lieutenant Arsad called Sickbay while Ensign Sier manned Tactical. A few seconds later, Worf stirred. Worf stood up in time for Arsad to inform Dr. Crusher, who ordered him down to Sickbay.

As Worf reluctantly headed for the Turbolift, Data stared at him in surprise, the viciousness in his expression draining away. He looked down at his torn arm, then up at Commander Riker. His expression was calm and reasonable, in every way perfectly normal. He tried to say something, but the sound came out as a strangled gurgle. He lowered his head and stared at nothing in the vicinity of the Conn chair. He sat very still and silent, almost as if he was standing on a razor’s edge where any slight movement would have him fall.

Riker moved slowly toward Data. Data’s eyes flashed, the tiny movement shattering his stillness. Riker stopped short; he held his breath, unsure if he was about to join Worf in temporary oblivion. Data stared at Riker for a few tense moments, then smiled wickedly. He looked back down at his arm and began tearing it again. The rest of Data’s body returned to that inhuman stillness, without reaction and without expression.

Riker wiped his beard and looked down at his feet. He fidgeted, looking to the side and then the ceiling. It was impossibly hard to see his friend in such a state. It almost seemed as though Data had gone mad. Data was enough ‘there’ to make the possibility a real one. Surely to damage an Android to the point of insanity was small change to someone who could abduct a person off a ship using only a horse. He turned to look at Data again. With a tremor in his voice, he asked, "Why are you doing this? What happened to you?"

Data squeezed his eyes shut, reacting strongly to Riker’s tone. He barked something utterly incoherent. He looked up at Riker again, his expression wondering if Riker could understand. When Riker in turn reacted with more concern and pained compassion, Data started laughing. He tossed his head back so hard was his laughter. He sounded as one might when experiencing something intensely pleasant and equally humorous. Without warning, Data stopped laughing. He put his hands to his temples, spreading yellow fluid all over the left side of his face. He looked physically ill and nauseous. He lay down on his side, curled up half way. "Translate back," he said weakly, "you know me better than this."

Riker blinked at the cryptic statement. He knew instinctively that there had been neither madness nor influence in Data’s words. That Data had apparently spoken in complete rationality made Riker pay attention, but hadn’t helped in his understanding. Riker glanced up at Troi, who looked equally confused. Deanna carefully walked over to Riker. Riker whispered, "Translate what?"

"I don’t know," Troi whispered back.

"You would not," Data said in a venomous tone. He became very still again, a lifeless statue except for the yellow blood trickling down his arm.

Ensign Sier hissed loudly, then said, "The ship is moving off! It is on a course heading directly for Keleia Sigma B."

Riker slowly walked over to the captain's chair and sat down. In the face of Data’s apparent insanity, the situation with the ravenship had slipped his mind. This whole situation was draining him. It was frustrating and impossible. He collected himself and ordered, "McKnight, match speed and follow the ravenship."

"Aye sir," came the subdued reply.

"Commander, do you agree I am proficient on the violin?" Data asked, his tone reasonable and friendly. He was still lying on the floor, and he seemed totally unaware of it.

Riker glanced over at Data. "Yeah, I agree, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Metaphor. It is important that you know. He also plays well," Data answered, hanging no more importance on his words than he would if he were making small talk. He laughed again, short and cold. After that, he appeared to sleep.

Riker laid his head in his hands. "He also plays well." What in the hell does that mean? The craziness of this entire situation was growing in leaps and bounds. He couldn’t imagine things getting any worse than they were, but he knew, he felt it in his bones, that things would, in fact, get worse. A kidnapped captain, a powerful mystery being, a mad Android, meaningless messages, strange visitors, and a partridge in a pear tree. All he needed was a fleet of Borg and a doomsday weapon to make his week complete.

* * *

The door chime woke Tasha Yar from a sound sleep. She rubbed her eyes and asked for the time. The excessively pleasant computer voice answered, "Oh two hundred hours." She growled, thinking that if the person at her door were anyone less than the Captain, she would tear his or her arms off. Muttering Russian curses, she got out of bed and stomped to the door. She hated it when someone woke her in the middle of the night. As she unlocked the door and opened it, she snapped, "What is it!"

An empty corridor greeted her.

Tasha poked her head out and looked down the hall to her right, and finding no one, she looked left. The hall was vacant. She stepped out and walked a short distance to the corner. She peered down that hall, and found it empty as well. She shook her head and grumbled mightily, then turned to walk back to her quarters. As she walked the short distance, she began to feel the presence of someone else. She spun around, convinced that someone was behind her. There was no one there. She slowly turned back around, looking over her shoulder at the empty corridor. She stopped, and as she was thinking about what to do next, she felt something like soft wind brush against her. She started and called out, "Who’s there?"

Out of the wind came a whispered voice, like a bird’s. "Daniel you may call me," it said.

She hit her communicator and called for security to inform them there was an intruder on board the Enterprise. All she got was the dissonant chirp of a dead comm line. She moved to try the comm panel on the corridor wall, but the wind stopped her movement.

"You are dreaming, Tasha. Do not worry about the ship; there is nothing on board that is not usually on board," the air said.

"Dreaming," she said. She looked around the corridor, thinking to herself that this was the most vivid dream she had ever had. She looked askance at where she thought the wind might be, unsure whether to believe it or not.

"You may believe me. You may always; I rarely find it necessary to outright lie."

"Your name is Daniel?" she asked. Something about the name was familiar beyond that it was a common Terran name. For a moment, she thought it was déjà vu, but she knew it was not. If she really was dreaming, then perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her.

"No. I only gave you that name so you would have something to call me. I think you have forgotten me. Do you want to remember me?" the thin air said in the bird’s voice.

"Yeah. If I don’t, it’ll bug me for the rest of the night and then I won’t get any sleep. Don’t you hate it when something’s caught on the tip of your tongue?"

Tasha almost felt the thin air turn in some invisible gesture. It said, "No. I do not have that problem. I have yet to forget anything." The wind solidified into a dark, humanoid shape, one that the light would not touch.

Suddenly Tasha realized who the wind was. Her memories of Turkana IV had dimmed a great deal over the years, which in most cases was no great loss, but apparently she had forgotten some good things as well. Now Daniel’s dark shape reminded her of a dimly remembered question that she had always wanted to ask, but could never remember who or why she wanted to ask. "How do you make it so the light won’t touch you?" she asked, now that she had the chance and before she could lose it.

"Manipulated subspace fields, something like holo-technology, but more sophisticated," Daniel answered easily.

Daniel’s dark silhouette contrasted sharply with the brightly-lit corridor, but Tasha could not make out any of his features. She could see that he had unruly hair and a long cloak, but nothing more. She wished he would just turn a little, so she could at least put a face to his name. She moved a little to the right, hoping to catch a glimpse of his profile, but he turned with her. She stopped and remarked, "You seem bent on making yourself mysterious. Why is that?"

"Mystery is good defense."

She narrowed her eyes at the dark figure. "What are you defending yourself against?"

"I did not say I am defending myself."

"Then what are you defending?"

His bird’s voice was calm and easy. "Now."

Tasha blinked a few times. "You’re defending now? As in the present?"

Daniel nodded.

Tasha huffed and said, "You aren’t making much sense."

Daniel paused for a moment, then said, "Someday you will understand what I say. For now I am content to leave it a mystery." Something in the sound of his bird-like voice gave the impression that he was smiling.

Tasha scratched her head in a gesture of mild frustration. If she was dreaming, then it didn’t matter what Daniel said to her. Everything he said would be out of her imagination and she would wake up irritated because none of her questions would really be answered. Daniel was a fifteen-year-old mystery that had been brooding in the back of her mind, and now it would be a mystery that she remembered. Now it would be like an itch that she couldn’t scratch; it would be worse than having something stuck on the tip of one’s tongue! She grumbled to Daniel, "If I’m dreaming, it wouldn’t matter if you told me everything anyway."

Daniel tilted his head a little, still masking his features in his lightless silhouette. He said, "You are dreaming, but you are not imagining me. I am here, speaking to you in your dream. Everything I have said is out of my mouth and is as trustworthy as I am. You did not imagine me in Turkangorod, and you are not imagining me now."

Tasha’s expression changed in sudden alarm. She knew he must be a true telepath to accomplish such a feat as invading her dream and talking to her. She had a deep-running distrust of true telepathy. She never liked the idea that someone could know her thoughts without her awareness or permission. She liked to keep her inner thoughts on the inside, to keep herself as much to herself as possible. True telepaths had the capacity to violate her privacy and it seemed as though Daniel was doing just that. She backed up a few steps, saying in a loud voice, "What!! You’re in my head? Get out! Get out!"

"Tasha, listen. You do not understand!"

Tasha growled, "What don’t I understand? You are in my dream, and I want you out!"

Daniel carefully shook his head. "You are dreaming, but I am not in your dream the way you think I am. I am on the outside, speaking to you--"

Tasha interrupted him loudly, "Then you are on the ship!" She reached over to hit her communicator but Daniel grabbed her arm, preventing her from calling security. His hand was colder than she remembered.

"I belong here! I have been here longer than you have! No one will find an intruder because there is no intruder!" Daniel said, somewhat exasperated.

Tasha yanked her arm out of Daniel’s icy hand. She glowered at his dark form, trying to understand. He seemed to be telling the truth. If she was dreaming, then it wouldn’t matter if she called security. There could be a flock of Beepbeep birds searching for bloodletter flowers all over the ship and she couldn’t do a thing about it. She couldn’t figure out how Daniel could be in her dream and be outside it as well, nor did she know how he could belong on the Enterprise. Surely the crew, or the ship's sensors, would have noticed such an unusual being. "What are you, anyway? How could you belong on the Enterprise? No one has ever seen you."

Daniel’s form suddenly became that of a Terran snowy owl. "They have seen me but they just do not realize it. I am not dangerous to the ship; I have been here for months and I assure you, had I wished to endanger this ship in that time, I could have. I have decided that now is the best time to talk to you, and it is your only chance to speak with me in this way; in no other meeting will I again answer to the name of Daniel."

Tasha shook her head. She couldn’t imagine how Daniel had escaped the notice of the ship’s sensors. She supposed that there was no use in thinking about it now; when she woke up, she would know with certainty if there was any truth to Daniel’s statements. Even vivid dreams had to take their place as imaginings when she woke up. She sighed heavily, then said, "Fine, fine. Say what you need to say."

The owl flicked one speckled white wing, then turned its head slightly. Its huge yellow eyes stared up at Tasha. "I need to ask you some questions. They are personal, and some will be difficult to understand, but they are of extreme importance. Will you answer?"

Tasha sat down in the middle of the corridor. She drummed her fingers against the side of her head, thinking. She answered, "Only if you give me at least a hint about who or what you are."

The owl answered in Daniel’s trilling voice, "Would it be enough if I let you feel the shape of my real face? That would provide you with a clue as to what I am, or am not."

Tasha looked at the owl, experienced a fleeting bit of humor at the idea of talking to an owl, then said, "All right. I’ll answer your questions afterwards."

"I understand." The owl became a large, black void, much like the shadow Daniel had covered himself with when he stepped under the street lamp so long ago.

Tasha stood up, facing the darkness. She lifted her hand, then hesitated a moment. The idea of pawing a stranger’s face struck her as just a little weird. Daniel had offered, however, and she did want a hint about what he was or at least what he looked like, so she carefully extended her hand through the dark cloud at the level where she would expect to find his face. Her hand stopped on what must have been his chin. His face, as she had expected, was bitterly cold. She quickly felt his features, trying to get a sense of their shape before her fingers went numb. She discovered that his features in general suggested he was human or a humanoid, clean shaven with short hair, but nothing beyond that. His skin was just too cold. She pulled her hand away, feeling as if it had been frozen solid. She had no idea what race could be so cold; Data was cool enough, but downright hot in comparison to Daniel.

"Are you satisfied?" Daniel asked.

Tasha shook her hand in an attempt to warm it up. She commented under her breath, "I swear, you must be ten degrees below freezing." In a normal voice she answered, "Yeah. I guess you can’t be a Klingon."

"Not an Imperial Klingon at least. Now will you answer me?" he asked.

"I suppose so. You held up your end of the bargain."

"I usually do, but for you, always. First I must ask you if you trust me. Do you believe I will keep my promise to ensure your safety?"

Tasha squinted her eyes in confusion. She remembered when he had promised to keep her safe, but she had thought he had meant only for that night. She hadn’t given any thought to his assurance that he would keep the promise forever. "You promised to keep me safe forever, right?"

"Yes," Daniel answered simply.

"How could you do that? I believe you will try, but I don’t know how you could keep a promise like that. Nothing lasts forever, especially humans like me."

Daniel asked, "Do you trust Data--"

"What the hell does Data have to do with this?!" Tasha interrupted loudly.

Daniel continued unabated, "Do you trust him to know you? Would you ever let him know everything, everything about you?"

This was certainly a dream with much to glower over. Personal questions indeed, Tasha thought to herself. She was becoming quite angry with this Daniel. How could he possibly know about how she felt about Data if she and Data were the only ones who knew? Either someone else did know, or Daniel was a true telepath who was trespassing on private land. Tasha disliked that idea so much that she decided this was definitely a dream. If she woke up and found out she wasn’t dreaming then she would get mad. She asked with a steel edge to her voice, "Why do you want to know."

Daniel said, "You will not be so angry later; you will then know under what circumstances I am able to ask what I have. I want to know, to hear it from your own mouth, so that I may continue on my course. I actually do not have to ask; however, if I did not...," his voice trailed off. He seemed unable to find the words he needed to express himself properly. His dark form moved about a little, as if pacing. He stopped, and continued in his trilling voice, "If I did not, it would be unfair to you. You mean more to me than anything. You do not have to answer my question; it will be enough if you think about it, for now at least."

Tasha stood still, totally and utterly bewildered. There, standing before her, was perhaps the most confusing being she had ever met, if he really was, as he claimed, speaking to her in her dream. Most of what he said made little sense, and he apparently felt very strongly about her without any real reason. She had already decided that this was nothing but a dream, so in that vein this Daniel must be a part of her mind that was unbelievably confusing. But what if he was real? What then? "Why does it matter how much I trust Data?" she asked.

"Let me tell you something that will answer that for you," Daniel responded. His voice changed to sound more human and more alien at the same time, with unique sounds threading through his voice as he said, "Tehnehnehsehlehk."

It was the same word he had last said fifteen years ago, but somehow different. A brief feeling of familiarity accompanied the sounds, as if she had heard them more recently, but Tasha fell into some sort of trance before she could place it. A trance in a dream...how odd, Tasha thought to herself before she fell away completely.

Tasha started, sitting up in her bed. In her memory...there was a very large, slimy thing, waving like a dark tree that overpowered the rich blue of a cloudless sky full of tiny black spots. Scores of golden crabs running and little stones that caught fire. Black branches and a silver sea, and something darker than pitch that hurt like poison. And something flittering away, maybe the snowy owl. There was more, much more, but Tasha only recalled the slightest glimpses of what Daniel had told her. The rest of her dream stood out just as vividly as when she was in it. Her dream felt dream-like enough now, but it also felt real enough to make her wonder. All at once she shivered, uncomfortable with the idea that she might not have been dreaming. She asked the computer for the time, and it answered, "Oh two hundred thirty three hours."

Tasha yawned, but didn’t feel much like sleeping. "Not gonna get much rest now," she muttered in resignation as she threw off her covers and padded past her bedroom door into the next room. She went over to her wooden carving of a three-horned Denebian gazelle and reached behind it to retrieve a small item. She felt around until she found the small dagger. She pulled it out and looked it over, wondering why she had forgotten how it had come into her possession. That particular memory had probably been misplaced with most of everything else about Turkana IV that she gladly forgot. Now that she remembered almost everything about when she had first met Daniel, she thought this little dagger might provide her with a clue as to what he was. She turned the little dagger over in her hand and removed to crystal cover, careful not to touch the blade. She had used this dagger often enough to protect herself, and she had never become quite accustomed to its sharpness. She knew the black blade would cut through human flesh with vicious ease; she wondered if there might be a humanoid life form that the blade would not cut? That would at least narrow down for her what Daniel could not be, assuming she had impaled his hand fifteen years ago. If he could make himself look like an owl, then certainly he could make it look as though he had been cut when he in truth had not. She replaced the crystal sheath.

She thought about the clues she might have from her dream; the more she thought about her dream, the more real it became. Her security instincts told her that she ought to check to see if the ship’s sensors had recorded an intruder, but somehow she knew that just about everyone would laugh at the idea that their Security Chief had been spooked by a dream. Well, they might not laugh, but they would certainly bless her with strange looks. She decided she would go borrow Data’s desk. It had better access to all the scanners then the run of the mill desktop terminal, and Data wouldn’t laugh at her.

She walked over to her closet and pulled out a long, ankle-length robe. She thought the more common Starfleet just-long-enough-to-cover-your-backside style robe was a waste of material. Why have a robe at all if it is barely adequate for the job? She pulled the robe on and tied the cord around her waist. She placed the little dagger in her pocket and started for the door. When she reached her door, she felt with even more assurance that her dream had not been of the ordinary sort. She remembered coming to her door earlier that night, just as surely as she remembered retrieving her dagger from the statue. She paused for a moment at the door, somewhat nervous, as if she expected ghosts to be on the other side of it. She felt her own foreboding begin to dredge up memories of other times she felt a similar foreboding. She purposefully strode through her door, hoping to force her memories back where they wouldn’t bother her.

Outside her door was the same empty hall, thankfully without ghosts. Still, being in the hall made her dream that much more real. She started going over her dream in her mind, committing to memory as much as possible as she walked down the hall to the turbolift. Most prominent in her mind was Daniel asking her about Data. Would in some hypothetical situation she let him know about things she didn’t even want to remember? How could she tell someone else something she couldn’t even tell herself? And what in the galaxy did Data have to do with those strange things she couldn’t quite remember when she woke up?

She reached the turbolift and waited for the doors to open. When they did, she walked into the car and turned to face the doors. "Deck Two," she announced. A young-looking ensign who shared the lift looked sideways at Tasha and then carefully slid as far away as she could without looking extremely obvious. Tasha glanced in the ensign’s direction, wondering why she would move away.

"You looked as though you needed some space," the ensign offered in a thick French accent.

Tasha huffed. "I’m fine, I’m just tired."

The ensign nodded. They finished the trip in silence.

When the turbolift arrived at Deck Two, both passengers disembarked. The young ensign turned left and walked down that hall, while Tasha turned right.

Tasha walked the rest of the way down the short hall to Data’s quarters. As she walked, she idly wondered why his quarters were in among the ones assigned to junior officers when he was third down on the chain of command of this ship. Maybe he traded a larger living space for his desk. She arrived at his door and pressed the chime.

She heard a muffled, "Come in." She wrinkled her nose at how thin the walls on the Enterprise were, then walked into Data’s quarters.

She found Data sitting on his couch, reading some book that Captain Picard had given him. Probably Shakespeare, knowing the captain. Data looked up and said, "Should you not be asleep?"

Tasha walked over and sat down next to him, saying, "Yes, I should be, but I’m not." She peered over Data’s shoulder at the book he was reading. "I knew it was Shakespeare," she commented.

Data placed his fingers on the purple bookmark and turned the pages until he reached the marked page. He began reading what was on the marked page in his even, calm tone:

"When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon my self and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least,
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising,
From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven’s gate,
     For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,
     That then I scorn to change my state with kings."

He closed the book and set it aside on a small shelf.

Tasha smiled. She sat for a moment in silence, then said, "I love you, too."

Data looked back at her in that way that said he was thinking several things at once, but at least one of them concerned her addition of ‘too’ to an otherwise perfectly acceptable sentence. He chose not to follow that avenue of thought and instead he set his hand on hers and asked, "Why are you here so late?"

From time to time, Data’s talent for thinking several thoughts at once became a bit vexing. In a way, it was almost schizoid. Tasha knew that Data’s hand was acting on a separate thought than his voice (though not in the same way human hands were often guilty), but she had a little trouble separating the expressions.

She would just act on one thought at a time, so she turned her hand over and intertwined her fingers with his. It amazed her all over again how Data’s fingers would look and feel as though they were more human-like than they were. A human wouldn’t have to take any action to let someone move their fingers; relaxed, a human could be moved around like a big rag doll without trouble. If Data were to take no action to help her move his fingers so she could hold his hand, it would be as though she were trying to move the hand of Michaelangelo’s David. What amazed her was Data’s ability to act as if she could move his fingers freely when in fact he had anticipated her and moved accordingly. It took an extreme subtlety of action and a great deal of control to achieve the effect of no active movement at all.

She took a moment to breathe, then answered Data’s question. "I wonder if you’d do me a favor. I had a dream just now and I don’t think it was all a dream, but I didn’t want to yell fire before I checked out the smoke." She paused, noticing Data’s ‘that-was-slang-and-you-know-I-do-not-understand-slang’ expression. She added, "It just means I don’t want to concern anyone with something I’m not sure about."

Data nodded understanding. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"First, I wanted to ask if you knew any humanoid species that would not be easily injured with this," she said as she pulled the small dagger out of her pocket. She handed it to Data who took it.

He examined the sheathed dagger, turning it over in his hand. He reclaimed his other hand and removed the crystal sheath. He set his finger against the broadside of the black blade, then against the faceted hilt. He asked, "Are you asking if this blade would inflict a serious injury or merely a flesh wound?"

"I guess it would be a flesh wound. I impaled someone’s hand with it, and I wanted to see if I could narrow down his species by ruling out any humanoids who couldn’t be impaled with that dagger."

Data thought for a moment, then drew the point of the blade across one of his fingertips. The black edge effortlessly slit his skin. He looked at the tiny cut for a moment, then answered, "I cannot help you. This dagger has a dinitrogen crystal blade. This blade could injure me in that fashion quite easily; to my knowledge, my exoskeleton is far harder to damage than any humanoid’s flesh. I would not doubt that in the hands of someone with sufficient strength, this dagger could sever my limbs." He carefully replaced the sheath and handed the dagger back to Tasha.

She looked at the dagger with a new respect. This was in all likelihood one of the sharpest and strongest daggers in the galaxy. If this thing could cut Data’s duranium bones, what couldn’t it cut? She took the dagger and put it back in her pocket. "I knew it was sharp, but I didn’t know it was that sharp."

"Dinitrogen crystal is ideal for surgical tools in situations where laser scalpels cannot be used. Dinitrogen is related to dilithium; they are equally difficult to break, but dinitrogen crystal holds an edge better," Data commented while he sealed the thin cut on his finger with a small laser tool he kept hidden under a fingernail.

"And how often does it happen that a total stranger gives a kid a dagger made of dinitrogen?" Tasha asked, without intending for her question to be answered.

Data looked up from his finger. "I do not know. I suspect it would not happen often; your dagger is very dangerous and also rare. I do not think I would trust a child with it."

"Huh," Tasha commented, "someone gave it to me when I was young. In fact, it was the same guy whose hand I impaled."

"Perhaps if I had the chance, I would have given you that dagger. You would have had more need of it than I."

"Yeah, I guess," Tasha said quietly. She had put that little dagger to those tasks which it was made to do best: to spill blood and take life. The dagger had protected her more often than it had failed her, but even its protection did her harm. No one can escape whole from a place where violence is the air and the only decision is who is going to be violated this time. She had committed her own share of violence; that little black dagger simply meant she did not commit so much. A few people on Turkana IV had enough brain in their heads to steer clear of the little girl with the wicked knife.

Tasha again reached into her pocket and retrieved the dagger. She looked at it for a moment, then handed it back to Data. "You keep it," she said, "I don’t need it anymore." She sounded subdued.

Data took the dagger, unsure what to say. It was not that Tasha did not need the dagger; she apparently no longer wanted it. He wondered why that would be, but he did not ask. He set the crystal dagger on his volume of Shakespeare.

Tasha sat for a moment in silence, then said in a more normal tone, "You know that dream I mentioned? The person who gave me that dagger was in it. He said he used manipulated subspace fields to force light away from him so he was completely black. I wondered if maybe the ship’s scanners had picked up an unusual subspace field around the time I was dreaming. The dream was a little too real for me to just let it go, but then again, it might be my overactive imagination."

Data stood up and walked over to his desk. Tasha noted to her amusement that Data was so graceful he fairly floated over to his desk, but in any given moment when someone else was around, he looked as if he might trip over his own feet because his gait was so awkward. At least relatively so. She figured he was just trying as hard as he could not to impress anyone. Tasha got up and followed him to his desk.

Data sat down and accessed the ship’s scanner records. He looked up and asked, "When did you have your dream?"

"I woke up at 2:33 this morning, and I think I woke up right after my dream."

Data tapped a few buttons, then scanned the records for the space between 0100 hours and 0233 hours. The records flickered by with blinding speed. In a few moments, Data had read every bit of information the ship had recorded in that time frame. He reported, "A ship-wide, low level subspace field was present between oh one hundred twenty one hours and oh two hundred thirty hours. The field behaved in a way to suggest the Enterprise had passed through it. The field strength was so low and uniformly irregular that it suggests a natural phenomenon. The field posed no danger to the ship and did not affect any systems." Data looked up at Tasha and added in a more personable tone, "It is not uncommon for ships to pass through such fields, but it is somewhat unusual for this area of space."

Tasha drummed her fingers on her crossed arm. "That doesn’t help me either way. I guess it’s nothing big enough to wake the captain over. Let me think." She chewed her lower lip, pondered for a few moments on the events of her dream. Then she asked, "Are there any humanoid races that have exceptionally low body temperatures? I mean a whole lot colder than you."

"The Ohn-Wahl maintain a body temperature of ten degrees centigrade, which is noticeably lower than my normal temperature of seventeen degrees centigrade. The Ohn-Wahl are only considered humanoid because they have a body plan that is in general similar to a human’s. Specifically, however, they have tails, very large bat-like ears, horns, and they walk on the points of their exceptionally long, bony toenails. They would be difficult to mistake for the more common humanoid races."

"I guess Daniel isn’t an Ohn-Wahl," Tasha commented.

Data asked, "Daniel is the person whom gave you the dagger?"

Tasha nodded. "Maybe I ought to tell you more about him before I ask anything else. In my dream he was at least a head taller than I was, he had short hair and a smooth, human-like face. When I met him on Turkana IV, he had a bird-like voice, very cold skin, I think he had four fingers and a thumb on his hand, he was very quick and strong, and he had an exceptional sense of smell. He sniffed Spot and told me that she was going to be a he and soon enough, she became a he."

"Spot?" Data asked, puzzled.

"Oh, she, um he, was my cat. When she was a she, she had a big white spot on her stomach. I guess Turkanan cats change sexes every so often. Daniel had a way with cats, too. Turkanan cats are usually very protective, but Spot loved Daniel." Tasha paused, remembering her cat. Spot was one of those good memories that seemed to have been lost among the bad. "I wish I still had Spot. I miss her."

Data looked away for a moment with a distinctly mischievous look on his face. He said slowly, "A friend of mine, Captain Yitshak Silverman, is a ‘cat-fancier’ and he has been known to occasionally...acquire cats from non-Federation planets. If I asked, I think he could find a Turkanan cat for you, on the condition you did not mention how you came by the cat."

Tasha laughed out-loud. Data knew a cat-smuggling captain! And he was prepared to utilize his friend’s shady services just so she could have a Turkanan cat! This proved it; Data was perfectly capable of being sneaky. She said with glee, "I’ll think about it." She snickered again.

"What is so amusing?" Data asked, perplexed.

"Oh, it’s just that I never expected you to be the type to smuggle kitty cats around the cosmos."

"I do not smuggle cats. Yitshak smuggles cats. If one were to tour the Trieste on any given day, one would find at least seven cats roaming the halls. They would most likely be Yitshak’s." Data paused for a moment, then added, "If I am not promoted to captain in seven and a half years, he promised he would send a plague of locusts on Starfleet Headquarters. I imagine he would need to smuggle the locusts as well. Do not tell anyone; it would ‘spoil the fun’ if Starfleet were to know."

Tasha covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle another giggle. After she got it under control, she said, "I’m going to have to meet this captain friend of yours. He sounds like quite a character."

Data cocked his head, saying, "He is interesting."

"OK, you can get me a cat, but only if you promise I get to meet Captain Cat-Smuggler," Tasha said.

"I will try to arrange a meeting. Yitshak is always interested in meeting fellow ‘cat-fanciers’."

Tasha yawned suddenly. "Maybe we should finish figuring out if my dream was real or not. I won’t be able to sleep until then."

"I have been thinking about it, and I do not know any species that fits your description. However, that does not mean that Daniel did not exist. He may be using technology to augment his senses and alter his color and temperature. It is possible that the Federation has not encountered his race. It is also possible that Daniel is of a race we know little about," Data commented.

Tasha frowned. "If my dream was real, Daniel would have to be a telepath, wouldn’t he?"

Data nodded, adding, "He would not need to be a true telepath. Vulcans can achieve a similar result with their relatively limited touch telepathy."

"There was something else. Daniel told me some things that I don’t quite remember. He said they were an answer to why I needed to trust you."

Data looked at her as if to ask her to continue.

"It was really confusing. He told me something about a big, slimy thing, and gold crab-like beings. There was something about a great silver sea and tiny flying spots, zooming around and hitting the crabs. There was also an unpleasant black thing, which seemed to cause someone a great deal of pain. I don’t remember much else, except that something clear and something dark seemed important." She shrugged, her expression almost apologetic for how confused her story was.

"I do not see a connection," Data commented in his matter-of-fact tone.

"Just about everything Daniel said was confusing. I--" a mighty yawn interrupted her. "--Don’t see a connection either," she continued.

"You should sleep," Data told her.

"I know," Tasha answered, "but I don’t think I can. I promised myself I would get mad in my dream if it turned out real, but now I’m just spooked." She stood still for a moment, obviously anxious about the prospect of sleeping now that she knew she could no longer avoid it. She raked a hand through her short hair. She continued in a worried tone, "It brought back too many memories, and I’m afraid of having nightmares."

Data almost looked sad. "I wish I could help you," he said quietly.

"Maybe it’ll help if you let me borrow your couch. I think ghosts are scared of you," she said, referring in a round about way to Data’s unusual talent for making her feel secure. She did trust him; perhaps not as profoundly as Daniel had suggested, but she knew Data would never hurt her the way others had. He bore only a surficial resemblance to those cruel men on Turkana IV, but in every other way he was nothing like them. If Data had been human, very likely she would have never given herself a chance to know him well at all. She would have never truly known there were thoroughly kind people in existence, people who were incapable of the wickedness she had seen.

"You are welcome to sleep on my couch," Data said. He looked hurt, in a way. He added, "Ghosts do not fear me."

Tasha was unsure whether Data was speaking about real spirits or metaphorical ones. It had never really occurred to her that Data might be haunted by his own memories. Maybe she was reading more into Data’s statement than he intended. "What ghosts?" she asked, to clarify.

"Do not worry about my ghosts. Ask later and I will tell you about them. Right now, you need to sleep." Data stood up and walked over to his replicator to get a blanket.

Tasha yawned again, deciding Data was right; she really couldn’t postpone sleep for much longer. She sighed and trudged over to Data’s couch. She sat down, hoping she would sleep peacefully for the rest of the short night. Data handed her the new blanket, which she unfolded and arranged. She pulled it up and snuggled in, getting comfortable. Data sat on the floor next to her and asked the computer to shut off the lights. "Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," Tasha yawned. She added, "I count it as more precious what you can do than what you can’t."

"Love you," Data said, to be sure he understood.

"Yeah," Tasha said softly.

Data moved closer to his couch and kissed Tasha’s cheek. He then set his head next to hers, with his mouth to her ear. He sang to her, those songs which rivers and trees sang, and all that the rain said to the air. It was very restful and somewhat hypnotic. She fell asleep almost immediately.

Tasha slept undisturbed except for one sentence she half heard sometime in the night. It almost sounded as if Data had said it, but he would never say such a thing: "When you understand my words, then will you know me."

Tasha died three weeks later.

Go on to Section 5