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Chapter Text

They were dying. The Red Plague had been whittling away at their numbers for as long as Lucy could remember. Death and everything that came with it was an ordinary thing to her. The smoky char of burning bodies was a scent as familiar to her as the grass, a smell that no one bothered trying to wash out of their clothes anymore; it was futile. A lot of things were futile, these days. But those that could, tried to keep going.
There were fields of corn and rice and soya beans to tend to, animals to graze and milk, trees to cut and rock to mine. If they gave up now, there would be no chance of survival at all. They needed to keep going long enough to develop an immunity to the plague. If High Leader Jones was right, this disease was nothing more than a hurdle in the colony’s success. They’d pick themselves back up again. Afterall, humanity had done it many times before.
Lucy had had faith in Jones’ words right up until the week before her dad died. It had been midway through Winter, not long after her tenth birthday. The wind and the snow outside had been fighting for dominance over the fire and candles inside. That year, the cold had been winning. Hardly anyone had the strength left to chop wood. A pile of twigs was drying in the corner of her father’s room. She gathered them each morning, digging through the snow for fuel, her mittens quickly becoming soaked and icy. But that particular morning, she couldn’t leave dad’s side. The pile of twigs grew smaller and her heart grew heavier as she listened to dad’s slow, rattling breaths. There was something he was trying to tell her but she couldn’t understand what it was. He’d been repeating a word, deliriously, over and over again. It sounded like ‘bee-con’.
When she went to find High Leader Jones to help figure out what he was saying, dad had gripped her arm with a strength he hadn’t possessed in months.
“No.”
The words were clear as day. She turned back to him, stared at the desperate, lucid look on his face. Blood was drying on his face, leaking from his nose and ears, plastering strands of thinning brown hair to his pillow. The flaky sores that covered his skin made soft grating noises as they caught against his wool blankets. She took her hands and wrapped them around his cold fingers, tears stinging the rash on her cheeks.
“Why? Jones could help.” Lucy had pleaded.
“Not with this. You can’t tell Jones about the beacon.” He replied, firmly.
“What’s the bee-con?” she’d asked, confused and worried. Dad wasn’t making any sense; that was a symptom that never occurred until the end. She hadn’t felt so scared in her life. Dad pointed to the fireplace with a trembling finger.
“The fire? You want me to add more wood?”
But he shook his head.
“Top of the mantel, third brick on the left.” He said this with such seriousness and clarity that Lucy was beginning to feel that he wasn’t going crazy after all.
“Third brick on the left? What do you want me to—”
“Pull it out.”
There were tears beginning to gather on his lower lids, swamping his failing, bloodshot eyes. There was an intensity in them that told Lucy that if she didn’t do it, he would drag his bleeding, dying body to the fireplace and do it himself. She stood up and moved towards the pick that leaned against the wall near the door frame, her mind swampy and dazed. She looked back at dad who was silently urging her on. Even if he was going mad, it couldn’t hurt to indulge him, surely?
She picked up the pick, lugging it with her small, thin arms over to fire, swung it over her shoulder and brought it down on the cement that held the brick in place. It had taken some time to chip and scrape the brick loose- she wasn’t familiar with this sort of work and didn’t want the entire fireplace to fall apart- but eventually, the lumpy stone had come loose. She wedged her fingers into the cold, dusty gaps she’d created and pulled the brick out. Debris tumbled down her dress and hissed in the fire. She turned the brick over and saw that it had been hollowed out. A piece of wood plugged the hole that had been carved into it.
“Come here.” Said dad, his hands already reaching out to the brick.
When she handed it over, her father wasted no time in grabbing his knife from the small table at his bedside and prying the wooden covering from the hole. His thin hands shook as he did it; there was something stronger than the atrophy that had wrecked his body, something spurring him on in the face of his weakness.
The wood popped off with a damp, creaking noise. Lucy stretched over to look at what was inside and felt the blood drain from her face. She couldn’t believe her father was capable of something like that. She watched in horror as he pulled out the small, cylindrical object. It was smooth and shiny with grooves and protrusions that could only be the work of the very thing that had caused the near extinction of the human race: technology.
Her eyes immediately went to the open shutters and she ran to close them.
“Lucy. Lucy don’t panic.” Dad reassured, as she banged the last shutter closed and bolted it.
“Dad, that’s a technology!” she hissed, “That could get us all killed!”
She wanted to rip it out of his hands and throw it into the fire but the thought of touching such a thing made goosebumps ripple across her arms. Her father only smiled sadly.
“It’s not that simple, love.” He’d said, “This could save us now.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Lucy, we need this.” He continued, when she stayed frozen and silent, “The Red Plague is going to kill us unless we get help. There aren’t enough of us left to build back from this. This is an emergency beacon, Lucy. It will send a- a message to anyone who comes near that we need help.”
Anyone who comes near. Like the Borg.
“Dad…” she whispered, backing away from him and the thing.
“We’re dead either way Lucy. I need you to help me set it up.”

Chapter Text

The signal was so faint, they almost dismissed it as background radiation. A crackly, degraded SOS that repeated the same word over and over: biohazard. Whether that message was intended as a plea for help, or a warning was up for speculation, but the Enterprise would answer the call either way. Ordinarily, the signal wouldn’t have been considered anything special (they’d answered many such distress signals before) but this one was unique.
“You’re sure it’s coming from the Drati system?” Picard asked, leaning against the desk in his ready room.
“Yes, sir. The signal is originating from the third planet in the system.” Confirmed Data, “Is that a problem, Captain?”
Picard sighed, the way he did when trying to work out a puzzle or a mystery.
“It’s just that no ship has been to the Drati system in decades. It has limited resources, doesn’t cross any trade routes and is largely ignored by the Tellerites despite the fact that they own it. There shouldn’t be anyone there.”
“Perhaps not officially.” Data suggested.
“Hm. I suppose we won’t know until we get there. What’s our ETA, Mr Data?”
“We’ll be in orbit around Drati 3 in eleven hours, twelve minutes, sir.” Replied Data.
“Inform me if there are any changes to the situation. I want to contact Starfleet and see if any activity has been noticed in this region recently.” Said Picard, pulling his monitor towards him and beginning to type, “You’re dismissed, number one.”
But Data didn’t move. When the captain looked up, he was sure he could see a look of determination and apprehension on the android’s face. It had been years since Data had installed his emotion chip but every now and again, Picard felt himself feeling surprised at the emotion his first officer displayed.
“Is there something else, Data?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir. Due to the nature of the message in the distress signal, I request to be sent alone to the planet should an away team be required. As I am not a biological being, it is unlikely that I will be affected by whatever biohazard is present on the planet.”
It was an obvious solution to the problem of the biohazard and Picard had full faith in Data’s abilities to complete an away mission alone, but the thought of it didn’t sit well with him. It was only a couple of years prior that Data had nearly died on the Scimitar. If they’d been a second too late he would have been nothing but dust drifting through the vacuum of space. To send him down to a planet with unknown threats alone was not only against regulations but also incredibly risky. Data was his friend, and he couldn’t order his friend into a situation like that.
But Data was also an officer under his command and his solution was the most logical and potentially safest option the Enterprise had.
“Permission granted.” Picard conceded, “But I expect you to stay in contact and beam back at the first sign of trouble.”
“Of course, Captain.” Data replied, somewhat surprised at the lack of debate. He had an argument already scripted in his memory banks but it appeared he wouldn’t need it after all. As he left the ready room, he wondered why his emotion chip was providing him with disappointment.


It had almost been a month since the second to last colonist died. Lucy was the only one left. She didn’t know why the Red Plague was taking so long with her but she wished it wasn’t. She wished she could have died with her dad and her friends but for whatever cruel reason, she hadn’t. The town was so quiet now. There were no more conversations in the streets, no more chickens clucking in the pens, no more sounds of daily life. She longed for something to listen to other than the glug of water from the stream and the sound of the wind moving through the grass. But there was no one here anymore.
She went through her day as though in a dream. Or a nightmare. Fetching water from the well that only she would drink, collecting corn from the fields that she didn’t have to share and getting out of bed in the morning even though she didn’t really have to anymore. She didn’t know exactly why she was carrying on. The beacon she’d hidden in the fireplace had been set up over a eight months ago and despite what dad had said, it had done nothing. No one had come from above to answer it, Borg or otherwise. She supposed she ought to be glad. High Leader Jones had warned them all of the dangers of such devices and for whatever reason, the beacon hadn’t caused those dangers to be realised.
But she found that these days, she didn’t care about the Leaders’ teachings. They hadn’t saved the colony from the Red Plague. From the Borg, perhaps, but as it turned out, the Borg weren’t the only dangers in the galaxy. Slowly, Lucy got up out of bed and stared at the sunlight creeping its way across the floorboards. At dawn, like every day of the season, she woke up and went to the corn fields. It was time for harvesting and it was a job that she could do well in spite of her size and strength. With no one to help her anymore, a lot of the bigger tasks on the colony took a lot of effort and a lot of pain. Picking corn was a comparatively easy task and one that didn’t require much thought- thinking was getting harder for her with every day that passed.
Even though the disease hadn’t killed her yet, it was still worming its way through her system. The weeping, red sores across her body had begun to spread inside of her mouth and form crusty styes on her eyelids. Seeing more than a few feet in front her was getting almost as difficult as holding on to her train of thought and the stinging itchiness that covered her skin seemed to be competing with the ache in her joints over which could be the most unbearable. Eventually, she knew, the disease would reach the last stage- the bleeding- and then she wouldn’t be able to work, even if she wanted to. It was something she tried to avoid dwelling on but with each new sore and ache and dizzy spell, it was getting harder and harder to ignore. Each time she changed the bandages on the worst of the sores, a new one had appeared or an old one had festered, making every day’s bandage change longer than the last. However slowly, time was still ticking.
Swallowing back her tears, she began the short trek to the corn fields. The sun was hot today, and Lucy could feel its rays warming the raw skin on her face even beneath her hat. She hugged her basket to her chest as she walked, holding her breath as she passed the slimy, rotting carcasses of the last of the cows. They’d died a few weeks ago and Lucy had been too weak to drag the corpses far enough away from the settlement to burn them. She had no choice but to let nature run its course, but whatever reason, nature was slow to consume them on this planet. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just about see the blurry mound of bone and flesh where Rocky’s head had been. Rocky had been her favourite cow; according to dad she was just like a giant puppy. Lucy had never seen a puppy before but according to dad, she would’ve liked them.
She turned her head away and focused on the path instead. If she succumbed to her grief, she wouldn’t be able to continue; and then she would starve. She could no longer see anything from her right eye but the left side of the path was still there, albeit hazy enough that she didn’t trust herself to run anymore. Small rocks crunched beneath the worn soles of her shoes and rattled through the dust onto the nearby grass. She didn’t know what she’d do if her other eye gave out or the bleeding started. There was a cliff that overlooked the valley their town was settled in that Leader Lee had used, but she wouldn’t be able to get up there alone and blind. The river would take too long for her comfort and she didn’t know how to tie the loop that Miss Charlotte had used. Out of all of her options, she liked Healer Singh’s the best. There was a mushroom not far from the cornfields that grew in clumps on decaying wood. It could you put you to sleep for eternity in just a few minutes.
But she wasn’t ready for that yet. She’d have to wait until the fear of dying from the Red Plague outweighed her fear of dying by her own hand. She blew out a shuddery sigh; it was too early in the morning for that line of thinking.
Once the animal pen was no longer distinguishable from the other blurry shapes on the horizon, she looked up again. The corn plants were starting to come into view. She picked up her pace, wanting to get to the mind-numbing work as soon as possible. She hated it when she listened to her own thoughts.
“Gonna pick some corn.” She reassured herself, “Gonna pick some corn and go home. Don’t need to think about anything else. Don’t need to thi-”
She stopped dead in her tracks, heart thudding in her chest. There were footsteps crunching along the path behind her. For a moment, she was stuck, unable to move, toes digging into the path, but the next nearing footstep shook her muscles loose. She whipped around, basket falling to the ground and rolling into the grass. Her eyes widened as the blurry figure neared. Hope and terror bloomed inside of her; the beacon had worked after all.

Chapter Text

The first thing Data noticed when his shuttle landed, was how primitive his surroundings were. The spore-like organisms in the planet’s atmosphere had prevented the Enterprise’s sensors from finding anything more than the rough location of the distress signal’s source and he hadn’t known what, if anything he would find on the surface. As it turned out, there was a lot here for a planet in a system that was officially unused.
He adjusted the pattern enhancers slung over his back and took his tricorder out from its holster. He’d landed on the outskirts of a village with parallels to settlements built in Middle Ages Europe. The rough, overgrown paths wound between the haphazardly placed wooden buildings in a way that suggested a lack of planning. Data chose the nearest path and began to follow it into the village, scanning for anything that might shed a little more light on the situation. So far, he could detect no life signs though there were definitely traces of human DNA across the valley.
Data tapped his combadge.
“Captain, I have a found what looks like a primitive human colony. I am moving towards the source of the distress signal.”
As predicted, it took several seconds for his combadge to make the connection to the Enterprise through the planet’s unusual, spore-filled atmosphere. Dr Crusher and one of the ship’s exobiology experts were currently working on finding out more about the strange micro-organisms; no doubt they had some part to play in the story of this colony. The captain’s voice came to him crackly and shrouded by white noise but still decipherable. It wasn’t perfect but it would do as long as nothing happened that necessitated faster communication. So far, no such thing had happened but there was no way of predicting what could happen in the future.
“Received, Number One. Continue searching for life signs and inform me if you find any clues as to why the colony is here.”
“Aye, sir.” Data replied.
As he ventured deeper into the village, it became apparent that no one had been around in many months, perhaps longer. Tools lay rusted on the weed-covered ground, shutters banged in the breeze against windows that had been open to the elements long enough to allow nature to venture indoors. A jacket hung from the fence around one house that could’ve been thrown over it to pick up later if it weren’t for the mildew and moss that seemed to merge it with the wooden fence posts. Some of the houses were completely empty, shuttered and bolted against the outside world but still showing the scrapes and discoloured patches of a once lived in home. Other houses had barely been touched from their original, lived in state, though it was obvious that no one had stepped foot inside them in a long time. Something bad had happened here but it must have happened gradually. One house had clearly been abandoned for almost a decade, while a house just opposite could have been left only a few weeks ago.
As Data examined the interiors of the buildings, he found that in spite of these differences, all of them had something in common that would’ve been unnerving, had his emotion chip been turned on. Each and every building had traces of blood. In the empty houses, he could only find the traces with his tricorder; the colonists had clearly tried hard to remove the splatters that had soaked into the floorboards but with such outdated cleaning materials, he didn’t even need to adjust the tricorder’s settings to find them. Data would have concluded that the village inhabitants had become violent or been attacked if it hadn’t been for the evidence to the contrary that was littered around the more untouched houses.
Baskets filled with overflowing, blood-stained clothes and sheets were present in all of the un-emptied homes, suggesting that bloodshed was a normalcy for all of the colonists. Dried out pots of poultices and oils could be found in most rooms along with bandages and dark, clot-filled handkerchiefs. And then, tucked beneath reddened, crusty sheets, Data found the first body. Its raw, rotting flesh seemed to melt into the bed it was curled up on, old blood drying across its sunken face and stuck in flakes in its matted, brown hair. Colonies of mould scattered across its pillow while mossy growths devoured what was left of its slick, grey eyes. According to his tricorder, the body had been a woman in her late thirties who had died between eight and ten weeks prior of blood loss and sepsis.
There was no doubt now about what the signal had been referring to when it warned of a biohazard. It would require an autopsy to know what exactly the woman had been infected with, but the picture of this village was starting to look a little clearer. What he needed now was an answer as to why these people were here in the first place or, better yet, one of the colonists themselves. After informing Picard of his findings, Data left the dead woman’s home, focused his tricorder on the signal source, and began to follow it through the empty streets. A small cluster of his circuitry wondered if he would have taken a different course of action if he hadn’t agreed with Picard to keep his emotion chip off for the duration of the away mission. Perhaps he would’ve cried or screamed at the sight of the body or backed away nervously or refused to continue. Perhaps he would have been able to control all of those emotional urges and simply continue with the most practical next step as he was doing now. It was a pointless train of thought that he devoted very little time and processing power towards but one that he often indulged in; counsellor Troi said that such lines of thinking were quite human and normal.
The tricorder’s beeps tightened into a loud hum as he turned into what appeared to be the centre of the village. Twelve buildings, each slightly larger than the frugal homes he’d seen before were arranged around the perimeter of a huge, circular gathering space. The ground had been carefully tiled with a mosaic of images that looked too familiar and intentional to be anything other than the first association that Data’s positronic net found. A timeline was spread out before him and it began with the battle of Wolf 395. Set apart like the hours on a clock were every interaction humanity had had with the Borg. Images of death and destruction and mourning danced around the centre of the village, like a round, pixelated tapestry. Aside from the more abstract imagery of mourning that was present in many of the scenes, it all seemed to be accurate, both chronologically and factually.
But the last two scenes depicted events that strayed from a simple retelling of the battles between Borg and man. At ten o’clock, a man with was depicted talking to a congregation of people, images above him showing a Drati 3, a cluster of primitive houses and the destruction of various technological objects. At eleven o’clock was an image of a group of smiling people standing in front of a horizon bright with sunlight and surrounded by leaves that snaked towards the sky and tangled around a cluster of borg ships, destroying them one by one. Data assumed that the last image was symbolic. It was likely that the colonists believed that nature would protect them from the Borg. Or perhaps the leaves represented a different concept like hope or perseverance. Without further information, there was no way to be certain of its meaning.
Nonetheless, it showed why the colony was here, albeit in a fairly vague way. The tricorder was still thrumming away, alerting Data to the closeness of the signal source. Which gave rise to a new question- in a colony where advanced technology was taboo or illegal- why would there be such a signal? Data held up his tricorder and began to follow it to the source, his footsteps loud on the dusty tiles. It was coming from somewhere not far from the village centre and in spite of its proximity, still had a touch of interference.
As he approached the signal, Data began to notice something about the surroundings that didn’t match up with the parts of the village he had already explored. The paths were more beaten and less overgrown, there was laundry hanging from a line that was still slightly damp, a bucket near the well still had a thin pool of water in the bottom. Someone here was alive; if not now then very recently. Data quickened his pace, listening to the tricorder’s cues until he reached a house with a clay pot filled with the husks of several dead flowers set next to the door. The flowers had been dead for at least a month, but Data could see fresher ones through the shutters, sitting on a table next to an empty bed. There were no life signs inside but there was the signal; still patchy with interference but definitely the strongest it had been thus far.
The door creaked as he opened it, banging against a basket of dirty clothes. The inside of the house was chaotic and untidy and very obviously lived in. A roll of fraying bandages was unravelled across the floor next to a rusting bathtub that was coated in dried up soap suds and blood. The fireplace next to it was still warm, a pot of some sort of porridge hanging above the charred wood. The table in the middle of the room had a few ears of corn on it and was covered in various bits of food and stains. Nothing seemed to have a specific place; there were pots and tools and clothes shoved into corners and strewn across the floorboards. There was a pile of dirty pillows and blankets bunched up beneath the table that someone had clearly been sleeping on, though given the vast quantity of free beds in village, Data wasn’t sure why. Whoever lived here did not have the capacity or desire to do anything more than the bare minimum. But he wasn’t here to analyse someone’s disorganised house.
He moved to the only other room in the little home, prepared for more haphazard mess but what he found was surprising. The bed on the far side of the fireplace was clean and made and the flowers he’d seen through the window weren’t the only ones there. There were more on the mantel and the dresser, the surfaces of which had been dusted within the last week. There was nothing out of place, and nothing on the floor other than faint stains of old blood. A painting hung over the fireplace. A smiling woman with deep brown skin that was almost the same colour as her braided hair and a pale man with dark, thinning hair and a look of pride on his face. The man had an arm over the woman’s shoulder and in her arms was a newborn baby, still slightly red and cone-headed from birth. There was a candour to the painting. Whoever had made it didn’t leave out the woman’s exhaustion or the man’s shock or even, the slight patches of rough, reddened skin that all three bore. A family, only recently made and already dying.
Data turned back to his tricorder which was urging him towards the fireplace and switched off the signal search function. There was a stone at the top of the fireplace that wasn’t fixed in place like the others. It wasn’t subtly hidden- at least not to an android. As he lifted the stone from its position, something fell to the ground at his feet. A simple SOS beacon that had last been Federation standard over a hundred and fifty years ago. Carefully, Data picked it up and turned it over in his hands. Other than the fact that it belonged in a museum, there was nothing remarkable about it. He wondered which of the people in the painting had brought it with them and set it up. What would the risk have been if the other colonists had found it?
He put it in his pocket and went outside to contact the Enterprise but before he’d even had chance to press his combadge, Picard’s voice cut through the silence.
“Commander Data, the Enterprise’s sensors have picked up a life sign approximately half a kilometre north of your position. I want you find this last survivor immediately- they might be only person alive who can elaborate on the existence of this colony.”
“Aye, sir.” Replied Data, turning north and beginning the trek to the last piece of the colony’s puzzle.

Chapter Text

“You want to make sure that the people that come down to the planet are Federation. It’s probably going to be Starfleet that answers the SOS but if it’s not, I want you to run and hide in the caves upriver, okay?”
“But how do I know if they’re Starfleet, dad?”
“You can’t miss ‘em. Their uniforms change sometimes but they’re very distinctive- especially their badges.”
Yellow, red and blue- those were the colours she needed to look out for. And the badge that was shaped like a triangle with two tails. Fighting the urge to run, Lucy squinted at the approaching stranger, her feet digging into the dirt, ready to turn and sprint to safety. They were definitely wearing the yellow that dad had described but she couldn’t make out a badge, let alone its shape from this distance. She needed to make a decision about which risk she would prefer take- death by bad guys or death by plague- and she needed to make it now. Run or approach. Definitely die or maybe die. She hoped her dad was right about the Federation being good, even if they were a technological society.
She stayed where she was, never taking her good eye off of the stranger, and tried to remind herself that her dad wouldn’t have done this unless he thought he had to. He was the most loving, intelligent person she’d ever known and if he believed that this was worth the risk, then so did she. It didn’t stop her hands from shaking as the risk grew closer.
“Hello! I am here to help!” shouted the figure.
He was close enough now that Lucy could make out a small splotch of gold on the man’s chest, but he was still too far away for her to distinguish a specific shape. Nervously, she began moving towards him, not wanting to wait any longer for whatever would happen next. The fear and anticipation and hope was overwhelming. Regardless of whether it was good or bad, something big was going to happen to her.
When they were a few feet apart, the stranger stopped and adjusted the weird, metal pole things that were slung over his back. He was waiting for her to make the next move, though out of politeness or wariness, Lucy wasn’t sure. Her heart thudding against her ribs, she took a few steps forward until the shape of the man’s badge was distinguishable against his uniform: a gold triangle with two tails. Just like dad had said. She looked up at the man’s strange, yellow face and eyes. Dad said that not everyone in Starfleet looked like they did but it was still unnerving to see in person. What sort of alien was he?
When she didn’t speak, the man knelt down in front of her, so that their eyes were almost level. His hair was the same colour as her father’s. But those eyes…
“We found your distress signal. Is there anyone else here I can talk to?” he asked.
Her reply was caught in her throat, so she just shook her head. Nothing bad had happened yet but the technology on his back could do anything. The Leaders had told stories of weapons that could turn people into dust and destroy entire planets. Her eyes fell on something sticking out of a pocket at the man’s side. In the drawings, that was where they kept their phasers- a technology that could kill you and leave no trace.
“I am not going to hurt you.” Reassured the stranger, “My name is Data. What is your name?”
She’d never met anyone named Data before. He really must be from another planet.
Still watching the object in his pocket, she said quietly, “I’m Lucy.”
“Would it be okay if you came with me, Lucy? I have a ship in orbit with a doctor and people who want to help.”
He was from a ship in the sky, just like dad said. This stranger wanted to take her to a ship in the sky. The thought boldened her nerves and she balled her fists tight.
“How do I know you’re not Borg? Or a bad guy come to take away the colony?”
If the man were surprised or insulted by her words, he didn’t show it.
“If I were Borg, I would not have asked your permission to come with me, and if I were a ‘bad guy’, I would not be having this conversation with you.” He replied, softly.
There was nothing in his voice that indicated that he was hiding anything. His strange yellow eyes looked into hers with a placid calmness that reminded her a little of Rocky. She wasn’t about to let her guard down, but it did appear that he wasn’t going to hurt her.
“You’re Starfleet?” she asked, looking back at his golden badge.
“Yes. We are required to provide assistance to those who request it.”
This was she’d been waiting for all these months. Someone to save her home and all of the people in it but she didn’t feel good. She felt bitter and angry and sad. Somewhere to the East, her father’s burnt, desiccated bones were piled amongst those of her aunts and uncles and friends.
“You came too late. There’s no one left.”
Lucy crossed her arms over her belly, hugging herself and trying to fight back the tears. She hadn’t felt this much emotion since her dad died and the sensation was unbearable. She’d been living in peaceful apathy for long enough to get used to it and now that she wasn’t alone some part of her brain was allowing her to crumple into feeling again. It hurt more than the sores ever had.
“You are left.” Stated the stranger, matter-of-factly, “I am sorry that we did not find your signal sooner, but we can still help you.”
For a while, they were silent. There was just the breeze weaving through the grass and brushing against her tender skin.
If it is the Federation, you need to go with them, love. They’re not perfect but their intentions are good. New Earth isn’t safe anymore, do you understand?
When the first tear rolled down her stinging cheeks, she was surprised at how good it felt. These were the first tears in a long time that weren’t solely fuelled by the pain of mourning. She wasn’t happy in the slightest but there was relief swirling amidst the fear and sadness that made her pain almost palatable.
“Will you come with me to my ship?” Data asked again.
Lucy took a deep breath, squeezed herself tighter and with her dad’s words still floating in the back of her mind, said, “OK.”


Data stayed outside while Lucy gathered the few items she wanted to take with her. Stepping into her house for the last time was a surreal feeling but an almost welcome one. The very walls smelled like death and sorrow and without dad, they always would. Her life had been full of an ever-growing stack of unhappy memories but all the same- that didn’t mean there hadn’t been happy ones scattered throughout the pain. She knelt down and pulled dad’s big leather rucksack from underneath his bed and brushed off the dust. It was scuffed and the straps had been repaired several times, but it was well made and spacious enough to carry everything she wanted to bring with her.
She hugged it tightly, breathing in the old leather and the remnants of dad’s scent, letting the dust tickle her nose. When she was really little, dad had sometimes carried her in the bag, one arm holding her steady while he ran down the streets, laughing at her delighted squeals. Looking at it now, Lucy couldn’t believe she’d ever been small enough to fit inside it. She stood up, the bag held tight to her chest and tried to figure out what to pack first. Data had said that they would have all the clothes and food and soap that she would need which meant that there would be room for every item she owned that she loved and cherished. Like the painting with her mom in it.
She dragged a stool to the fireplace and stood on top of it, reaching up to carefully take the delicate painting down from the wall. Her mother had been the colony’s first loss, just a few months after they arrived and one of New Earth’s few deaths that weren’t the result of the Red Plague. It had been Lucy that had killed her, wounding her mom as she came into the world and leaving her body too exhausted to fight the infection that took her life. While Lucy hadn’t really known her, she knew from dad’s stories that she would have loved her regardless and with all her heart. She wrapped the painting in dad’s blanket to keep it safe and slotted it into the rucksack.
The process of packing her life up for good somehow became easier after that, getting her into a rhythm that felt almost automatic. Her father’s journal (even though she couldn’t read it), High Leader Jones’ book of teachings (that she definitely couldn’t read but wanted anyway), her teddy bear- Loopy, her necklace with the pretty, pink pebble attached to it, dad’s tambourine that annoyed everyone in the village, the little wooden cow Leader Blake had made her; all of the little things that reminded her of joy or a friend or, most of all, her dad. She could hear the Starfleet man talking outside, even though no one was there and as she was stuffing Loopy into the bag, she’d glimpsed him standing the metal things he’d been carrying on the ground. They didn’t seem to be weapons but that didn’t stop her from wondering if she was doing the right thing. Going anywhere near that stuff was against everything New Earth had stood for, not to mention the danger involved in using technology. She’d just have to be careful, she thought, as she gathered up her keepsakes. She’d use their technology as little as possible and leave their ship as soon as they came to a human planet. It would be okay.
“Are you ready, Lucy?” Data asked, standing in the doorway with the same blank expression he always seemed to have.
It was a good question. If she were honest with herself, then no but it didn’t really matter anyway. She was going to do this regardless. Her skin tingled with fear and suspense as she tightened the rucksack’s buckles and pulled the straps over her shoulders. What she was doing was absolutely crazy but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel excited at the idea of being closer to the stars on a ship that flew through a place that was beyond even the sky.
Lucy moved towards the door, sniffed back her tears and followed Data outside. He’d placed the metal poles in a triangle shape in the middle of the street and was gesturing for her to stand with him inside of the strange strings of light that linked them all together.
“What are those?”
She stayed on the doorstep, unwilling to go any nearer until she was at least a little more assured of their safety.
“Those are pattern enhancers. They will make transporting to my ship easier and safer.” He explained.
Now, the Federation have this tech called ‘transporting’ that they’ll probably use to get everyone off-planet. It’s basically like teleporting. One moment you’re in one place, the next you’re in the other. It sounds scary but trust me, it’s really pretty safe.
Lucy felt her stomach drop.
“Don’t you have a little ship or something instead?” she asked, eyeing the pattern enhancers nervously.
“I have a shuttle on the edge of the village but the plan is to transport you directly into the med bay quarantine and leave the shuttle behind in case of contamination to the ship. Our engineer is confident that with the pattern enhancers, we should be able to transport through the interference.” Said Data.
She didn’t understand half of what he’d said but it sounded like a more long-winded, polite version of ‘tough luck, kid’.
“It is safe.” He reassured after a moment.
Something inside her snapped at the thought of not only leaving her home but leaving it in that way. For the second time that day, she sobbed like a baby, hating herself for it but unable to control herself. She couldn’t believe she’d thought she could do this. It was wrong and it was scary and even though she wanted everything to get better, she just couldn’t do it if it meant using that sort of technology, no matter what her dad had said.
The strange man approached her, a dull sort of concern or puzzlement in his glassy, yellow eyes. A voice came from the badge on his chest, surrounded by crackling noises like those of a dying fire.
“Hey Data, we’re ready to energize whenever you are.”
Data tapped his badge and said, “Stand by, LaForge.”
Lucy covered her face with her arms, sucking in air between sobs and trying not to think about how stupid she probably looked. Her nose started running onto her shirt, tear drops falling from her chin in a way that was no doubt repulsive, but she couldn’t stop. She was terrified.
“It is okay to be scared.” Reassured Data, kneeling in front of her and putting a strangely cool hand on her shoulder. She thought about shrugging him off and running back inside but the feel of another person’s hand was something she hadn’t realised she’d been missing so much. It made her cry harder but it also made her pull her arms down to look at him.
“I can’t do it!” she wailed, defeatedly.
“It will only take a few seconds and if anything goes wrong we will return to where we were standing at the point of transport.” Said Data, “We would not do this if we did not think it had minimal risk of error.”
“So there is a risk!”
The man shifted his head as though attempting to rewrite his previous words.
“I understand that you are scared but the risk of staying is far greater than the risk of a transporter failure.” He reminded her.
He was right of course but it didn’t matter. No matter what he said, she would still be afraid and crying and sick with adrenaline. The sun beat hot on her face, its rays obscuring what little she could see of the strange man. His hair glistened like glass in its light, showing each and every too-perfect strand. He stood up and held his alien hand out to her.
“I have learnt that when you are scared it is easier to move when someone is there to help you.” He offered.
Lucy swallowed nervously and looked at the looming technological poles and the golden, cool hand in front of her. She shut her eyes tight against her fear and grabbed his hand, allowing herself to be walked into the pattern enhancers and whatever came next. She could feel every throb of blood from her scalp to her toes, her heartbeat tapping against her eardrums. She clutched Data’s hand tighter as they both stood still.
The last thing she heard on New Earth was, “Energise.”

Chapter Text

The little girl was still clutching Data’s hand, her eyes screwed shut, when they materialised in the Enterprise’s isolation ward. Data looked down her small, narrow body that was as much ashen brown skin as bandages and sores. Her dark curls were frizzy with dirt and months of neglect, and he suspected her clothes hadn’t been washed in a long time. Somehow, this girl had survived on her own for weeks, possibly longer. Humans could be incredibly strong when the odds were stacked against them, but it wasn’t often that a child was capable of the same feats endured by trained adults.
Dr Crusher approached the transparent aluminium wall that separated them from the rest of the med bay, smiling reassuringly even though Lucy still hadn’t opened her eyes yet.
“Hello.” She greeted warmly, “You must be Lucy.”
Cautiously, the girl opened her eyes, her body stiff with fear and gasped. She squinted at the doctor through the wall and began to move her gaze about the room, marvelling at the screens and lights and biobeds.
“You are on our ship now- the Enterprise.” Said Data.
He noticed that she had a habit of squinting and craning her neck whenever she was looking at something. Perhaps the disease caused vision loss or maybe it was hereditary; yet another obstacle she had managed to survive.
“Who are you?” Lucy asked the doctor.
“I’m Dr Crusher but you can call me Beverley. I’m going to give you a check-up, is that okay?” she replied, moving towards the airlock that entered into the isolation ward.
The girl pulled herself tighter towards Data, looking up at him as if for protection.
“The doctor will not hurt you. You are safe here.” He said.
Lucy wiped her tears away with her bandaged arm, heedless to how unsanitary it was and shook her head.
“You use technology to cure people, and you put it in their bodies so they aren’t people anymore.” She argued, disgustedly, “I won’t let you do that to me.”
Data looked for the doctor for help but she was already in the airlock, beginning the decontamination sequence. Lucy pulled her hand from his as though only just remembering that he was one of those people who used the infamous technology. Her awe at her surroundings had been shattered by disgust and fear and she looked at the lights and screens around her with a venomous look on her face.
“Modern medicine does not change a person- it helps them. As an android, I am made completely from ‘technology’ and yet I am still a person.”
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because instead of agreeing with him, Lucy recoiled, backing away from him as though had suddenly morphed into a monster. She seemed to be opening her mouth to say something, but no words came out. If he had interpreted the colony’s propaganda correctly, he had just admitted that he was essentially technology incarnate, a being not unlike the devil himself.
“I have not hurt you, Lucy and I will not hurt you. Technology is not what you think it is.” He said softly, “The technology used in this room has only ever been used for good and no one has been changed for the worse because of it.”
She only cried harder, backing up against the wall of the ward, searching for a way out.
“Go away!” she yelled.
It dawned on him that perhaps he had pushed the transition to quickly. He had assumed that her willingness to transport and knowledge of the process had meant that she wasn’t as indoctrinated against technology as the other colonists were. In spite of his infallible circuitry and incredibly fast processing speeds, he couldn’t think of a solution to the problem.
Thankfully, the inner airlock door cycled open behind him a moment later and Dr Crusher entered in a red hazmat suit that crinkled with every step she took.
“Data, I’ll take it from here, okay?” she said, patting his shoulder, “The Captain wants to speak with you in his ready room as soon you’ve been through decontamination.”
Data nodded and turned back to Lucy who was still cowering like a rabbit trapped in a cage with a bear. While in that moment he was unable to feel offended or concerned or saddened, he could acknowledge that he felt sorry for causing her distress, whether or not it was his fault.
“Goodbye Lucy.”
He waved politely and entered the airlock, blocking out the sounds of the girl’s crying and the doctor’s calming words. As he removed his uniform to be broken down in the matter-energy converter, he wondered how her future might look, particularly whether or not she would overcome her fear of technology. If she couldn’t, and Data calculated that that possibility was high enough to be of note, her life in the Federation would be unpleasant at best. It was a matter he would have to bring up with Picard.

“You know Data, I think I’m getting déjà vu.” Remarked Picard after Data’s report.
He appeared to be thinking deeply about the situation before them; the colony, the interference, the disease and of course, the lone survivor. Data had yet to experience the sensation of déjà vu, if his emotion chip could even grant him such an ability, but it was something he was familiar with from a third-person perspective. Humans didn’t experience it often but when they did, they were very likely to announce it to those around them, for reasons Data still wasn’t entirely sure of.
“Are you thinking of the Ba’ku, sir?” he suggested, having noticed certain parallels himself.
Picard smiled slightly.
“It isn’t the first time we’ve come across a people that settled away from the rest of society and refused all technology. But that’s where the similarities seem to end.” He said, “The Ba’ku weren’t so much afraid of technology as insistent that their lives were better without it. I can respect that. But this colony seems to have been fanatical about it. Everything you’ve just told me suggests that they were all part of a cult. I thought humanity had gotten past such primitive tendencies, but I suppose not.”
Sighing, the captain leaned back in his chair.
“Then again, I can’t say that I’m not curious as to how it all started.” He added, “Do you think the girl will be willing to provide any information soon?”
“I am not certain. She appears to have been raised in a household that was more open to the idea of technology than that of her peers, but I do not know if she will ever come to trust us.” Data admitted.
“Well, she told you her name and allowed us to transport her aboard. I’d say that’s a good start, all things considered.”
“That was before I told her that I was an android, Captain.” Data reminded him.
Picard chuckled and stood up from his desk, habitually neatening his uniform.
“I really don’t think that’s going to be as big a hurdle as you make it out to be, Mr Data.” He said, walking over to the replicator, “Children’s brains are a lot more malleable than you might think. They can accept a great deal more than most adults when it comes to their world view. Tea, earl grey, hot.”
“You believe she will not have difficulty accepting the Federation and its use of technology?”
The captain picked up his tea and rejoined Data at his desk. There was a subtle amusement on his face, or perhaps endearment. Data wondered if he’d missed something he wasn’t yet human enough to understand.
“I never said she wouldn’t have difficulty, but I think it’s highly probable that she will accept it. The whole transition should be a lot easier once we find any living relatives. I’d like you to look into her background, interview her, find out what you can about this ‘High Leader Jones’ she mentioned.”
“Captain, I do not think that I should be the one to interview her. I doubt she will talk to me now that she knows I am not a biological being.”
“I want you to try, Data. I think it could be quite enlightening for her if she learned just how human you are.”
He sipped his tea.
“If you make no progress with her, I’m sure Dr Crusher could take your place but I’m confident you can handle this.”
“Aye, sir.” Said Data, dutifully.
“Dismissed.”
Data nodded and left the ready room, considering the captain’s decision. He would follow his orders of course, though he was not fully certain whether Picard was right. The data thus far leaned towards Data’s presence being disruptive to Lucy’s transition into Federation society, regardless of how ‘malleable’ her brain was. Then again, if he was right and she did come to accept him, accepting every other form of technology she encountered would be a lot easier. It was a good thing that his positronic net was as efficient as it was- he had a lot to think about.

Chapter Text

Lucy sat on a biobed in the isolation ward, numb and groggy and hating herself for not seeing through the android’s deceit. The sedative Dr Crusher had given her was still clogging up her thoughts but not enough to stop herself from knowing that she had been wrong to trust him. She had been so desperate for rescue, she hadn’t properly considered what that rescue meant. She doubted that dad would’ve been so willing to let Starfleet take her if he knew it would be by a thing made from metal and electricity that called itself a man.
She pulled Loopy from dad’s bag, which at the very least, these people had allowed her to keep by her side. The threads of fur on his face were matted flat around his embroidered eyes and nose from years of hugs and one of his ears was coming loose but he was still the cutest thing Lucy had ever seen. Even cuter than Rocky. She squeezed him tight, breathing in his musty, straw-like scent. She could just about see the doctor on the other side of the wall with her eye against a metal tube-box-thing, moving a little glass rectangle with a sample of her skin into position. Even though she didn’t want to, Lucy couldn’t help but like Dr Crusher a little bit. She reminded her of her aunts and seemed to really care about her, in spite of her job putting chemicals and metal into people. It didn’t make sense, but the doctor did appear to be a good person with good intentions, and she had listened when Lucy told her she didn’t want anything put inside her. She just hoped that sedative wasn’t as insidious as it felt. Putting someone to sleep almost instantly for hours on end felt like something from a nightmare. Not even the healers could make someone fall asleep that quickly and for that long. It wasn’t natural.
“We need to find a new New Earth, Loopy.” She whispered into his fluffy belly.
Sleepily, she watched Dr Crusher work, too worn out to cry or scream or escape. She didn’t realise that she’d fallen asleep again until someone woke her, shaking her shoulder gently. She bolted awake, baffled by her surroundings, the weird rectangular lights on the ceiling stabbing through her good eye. It took a few seconds to remember where she was and a few seconds more to remember that where she was, wasn’t a safe place. She hugged Loopy hard, as though anticipating that he would be taken away.
The android’s yellow eyes looked down at her blankly, like marbles slotted into the face of a doll. For all she knew, they were marbles. Quickly, she sat up and scooted to the other side of the bed, watching it closely.
“I am sorry to have woken you up, but you have not eaten since you arrived, and Dr Crusher wanted me to bring you a meal.” It said.
There was a bowl in its hand, filled with a steaming porridge and topped with something brown and liquid-y. Her belly ached with hunger, but she couldn’t trust a walking technology. She turned away, trying to resist the sweet smell that floated around her. There was no doubt in her mind that whatever it was, it was too good to be true. She’d eat when she could pick and prepare the food herself.
“I noticed that you had a pot of porridge in your home and not knowing your likes and dislikes, decided to bring you something you were familiar with. Though Dr Crusher recommended the addition of maple syrup, which despite its lack of nutritional value, is often enjoyed by humans your age.”
She’d never heard of maple syrup before and even though it smelled amazing, there was still no way she would touch it. Sweetness covered up the taste of poison just fine; Healer Singh had told her so.
“I will leave it on your bedside table until you are hungry.” It continued, though she hadn’t yet given it the satisfaction of a response, “Could I explain what an android is in more detail?”
She picked at the edge of one the bandages on her left arm. Someone had changed them while she’d slept, replacing them with ones that were unnaturally white and strong and blissfully soothing. They didn’t stick to her weeping flesh or catch on the ragged edges of her sores and didn’t seem to fall down even though nothing was holding them in place. She thought about ripping them all off, but her skin hadn’t felt this calm since… ever. Lucy rubbed her hand over the bandages and shrugged. It could talk all it wanted- she didn’t have to listen.
“I am an artificial being, that is, one created through science and engineering, rather than a biological reproductive process but I was still created with the intention that I would be a person, not a tool.”
Lucy didn’t understand half of the words the android had used but the word ‘intention’ stuck out to her. High Leader Jones often spoke about intention in his sermons, stating that even if the intention of a technological object was a good one, it would still amount to what he called a ‘net evil’. No matter the intention, technology always had unforeseen consequences, and the risk increased the more advanced the technology was. A technological person was undoubtedly the epitome of evil.
“I have many of the characteristics of a human being. I was made in the image of a human and my creator ensured that I would have the ability to think for myself, make decisions and learn. I even have the ability to feel emotion, just like you do.”
Why did it want to convince her so badly? Did it really expect her to accept everything it was saying unconditionally? She glared at it over Loopy’s ears, hoping it was at least advanced enough to take a hint. The android made a noise that was eerily similar to a short, frustrated sigh.
“You were willing to trust me until you found out that I was an android. You were also willing to trust the beacon and the transporter. What have I done to break that trust other than admit to my non-biological nature?” It questioned.
In spite of herself, Lucy scoffed.
“My dad said the beacon and the transporter would be safe. He didn’t say anything about you.”
The android’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and his head tilted to one side- an imitation of human mannerisms.
“If your father said that I was safe, would you trust me?”
“No. Of course not.” Retorted Lucy immediately but somewhere in the back of her mind, doubt was beginning to spread.
Her dad had been the smartest, kindest man she knew. Even smarter than High Leader Jones, though she’d never admitted that to anyone else. And as much as she wanted to recite Jones’ teachings to herself and remain adamant that he was right, she’d always known that her dad was… more right. He was right about the Red Plague killing everyone and he was right about the beacon and maybe he was even right about Starfleet. If he was there in front of her and could tell her that this android was safe, would she really think he was wrong? Or if Jones was there and told her that this android was not safe, would she really think he was right?
“Anyway, he’s dead so your question’s stupid.” She muttered, bitterly.
“It was only hypothetical. I apologise if I upset you.”
Lucy squished her face against Loopy’s.
“Leave me alone.” She scowled, her voice muffled behind the bear’s fabric.
She’d had enough of being negotiated with by a machine and treated as though she didn’t know what she believed in. She did- of course she did. Dad said that some technology was useful but he never said that it was right and he sure hadn’t talked about non-natural ‘men’. The android was probably trying to manipulate her into trusting him so that he could turn her into one of him just the Borg did. Well, she wasn’t going to fall for it.
“I will come back another time.” Replied the android, “Goodbye, Lucy.”
Frustrated by its presence, Lucy waited until she heard the airlock cycle before pulling her face from Loopy’s fur. It took several minutes before the android appeared on the other side of the ward and exited the medbay. She wondered why they had imprisoned her with two doors like this, as if she were dangerous. That /thing/ was the dangerous one and yet they let it wander around right under their noses.
The thought reminded her of her own nose and the sweet smell that drifted through the air. She looked at the porridge longingly. It was still steaming, and the amber coloured liquid had dispersed over the top of it giving it a golden sheen. She squinted out at the rest of medbay but could see no people-shaped blobs. Discreetly, she put Loopy down and picked up the bowl and spoon. It seemed to be made from a grain she hadn’t seen before, but it still looked a lot the rice porridge her dad had made on weekends. It didn’t smell suspicious, and it didn’t look suspicious so surely it would be okay?
After the first tentative taste, the bowl was licked clean in less than minute. Whatever that maple syrup stuff was it was the best thing she had ever tasted, even if it was poison.

Data sat in the briefing room, waiting for Dr Crusher to arrive with her findings on the disease that had ravaged the colony. Their new counsellor, a young and enthusiastic Andorian named Tharan, was sitting beside him with a slightly bewildered look on his blue face. Data theorised that the counsellor was still getting used to his role on the Enterprise and place amongst the senior staff. Tharan raised a hand inquiringly to Picard and waited for the captain to nod before piping up.
“Um, sir, I have to ask- what’s the purpose of my being here? I’m a counsellor, not a scientist or commanding officer. I don’t see what I can provide in a discussion about… spores.” He asked awkwardly.
The captain smiled and Data heard Geordi chuckle opposite him.
“I have always had the ship’s counsellor be present during senior staff meetings. I find that having someone with psychiatric expertise can be very useful, even if it doesn’t seem like it would be. I’d rather have you here and not need you than need you and not have you.” Replied Picard.
The Andorian nodded politely but still appeared uncertain. One of his antennae curled upwards thoughtfully, ruffling his white hair. He was very different to Troi, but his file had shown that he was exceedingly competent and, in spite of a lack of empathic or telepathic abilities, he had the ability to estimate the emotions and thoughts of others with a good degree of accuracy. Data had chosen him specifically out of nearly one hundred candidates for exactly those reasons. Hopefully, Data was right about Tharan; he had some big shoes to fill.
The door opened with a woosh, and Dr Crusher entered with several PADDs in hand.
“Sorry I’m late, captain.” She said, a little out of breath, “Those hazmat suits are a nightmare to get out of when you’re in a rush.”
“That’s alright, doctor. Whenever you’re ready, I’d like to hear what you and the science team found.” Said Picard.
The doctor nodded to LaForge, who got up and joined her at the screen overlooking the table.
“So, engineering and science were tasked with finding out more about the spores in Drati 3’s atmosphere and how they were affecting sensors and communications, while medical focused on the disease that had killed the colonists.” Began Geordi, “But what we found out was that both issues were caused by the same thing.”
Geordi turned to Dr Crusher who displayed a magnified image of one of the spores alongside an image of a skin sample infected by a cluster of small, red growths. Out of the corner of his eye, Data could see Tharan wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“Here’s a cultivated tissue sample that we infected with the fungal organism present on Lucy’s body- which we’re calling the Red Fungus for now- to get an idea of the process of the infection.” Continued Dr Crusher, “I’ve dealt with many similarly presenting infections before, but this one was unique in that it wasn’t creating an immune response. None of the cultivated immune cells we introduced attacked the fungus and we as we later found during scans of Lucy’s skin, the pathogen was even being supplied oxygen and nutrients by her bloodstream as though the growths were a part of her body.”
“You’re saying that this disease causes no immune response?” interrupted Picard.
“None at all on healthy tissue.” Confirmed Crusher.
“Surely then, the colonists would’ve been killed a lot faster than they were. According to Data’s reports, the disease took almost a decade to become lethal.”
“That’s what I thought too so that was one of the first things we looked into.” Replied the doctor, “As it turned out, this fungus had never evolved to infect animals. There is no native animal kingdom on Drati 3. No bugs, no mammals, no fish. It originally grew on the surfaces of trees and rocks, attaching itself to micro-organisms and feeding off of them until the micro-organism died and the fungus had multiplied into sizable growth that would then burst, spreading spores up into air that would then go on to infect more hosts.”
“And most of those spores would end up in the upper atmosphere, where they gathered in the clouds, falling to the ground with the water whenever it rained. Those are the same spores that were causing the interference.” Said Geordi, switching to a diagram showing the fungus’ life cycle, “The spores don’t directly cause the interference, but rather amplify the effect of naturally occurring ionic interference in the planet’s atmosphere. Without the spores, the interference would barely be detectable but the trace elements in the spores’ outer shells combined with their pattern of dispersal causes increased ion instability and thus greater ionic interference.”
Data listened closely, recording the information in his data banks for later retrieval. Picard and their security officer, Daniels, looked intrigued though Tharan seemed to be a little out of his depth. The counsellor was listening dutifully, but Data could see that he wasn’t used to technical discussions that reached outside of his area of expertise. Pity trickled through his circuits, spreading out from his emotion chip like water from a spring. It was a sensation he had experienced less than thirty times since he had installed the hardware, and he relished its rarity.
“All very interesting but now I get to talk about the interaction between the Red Fungus and the human body.” Interjected Dr Crusher, waiting until LaForge had sat back down before switching to a cross section of a growth attached to a human skin cell, “When the colonists arrived, they were essentially an invasive species and the fungus found their bodies to be very easy to exploit. When the organism comes into contact with a skin cell from an Earth mammal, it attaches itself and is able to merge with the cell’s membrane, copying its antigens and seamlessly introducing itself to the body. The entire process the Red Fungus uses to attach itself to a native organism is coincidentally, able to allow the fungus to hitchhike human skin.
“And after that, it goes about its life cycle more or less as normal, only this time, when the clusters of fungal cells grow large enough to burst, they take their attached skin cell with it. Over time that creates the sores and rashes that seem to be characteristic to the disease. The fungus continues to eat away at the skin over many years until eventually, there are parts of the body that have no upper epidermis left and are so saturated with the pathogen that it can’t grow anymore healthy skin cells. At this point, if the host hasn’t already died of infection, the fungal spores begin to accumulate in the blood stream, where they can’t latch on to any skin cells but instead disrupt the blood’s ability to clot effectively. This little organism is quite possibly the perfect pathogen to the human body and that wasn’t even evolution’s intention.”
There was a long pause while the senior staff digested this information. It was certainly concerning if it were true.
“So, we’ve basically got a bioweapon on the ship.” Lieutenant Daniels broke the silence.
Dr Crusher nodded, visibly flustered by Daniels’ matter-of-fact statement.
“It is well contained, I assure you, but Daniels isn’t wrong.” She admitted.
“You say that like you can't synthesize a cure or a vaccine.” Said Picard, gravely, “What have I brought aboard my ship, doctor.”
The intensity Beverley had had when delivering her findings was beginning to wane and she sat down heavily at the table beside Geordi.
“I never said that. I don’t know yet how I’m going to find a cure or a vaccine, but I have a very good lead. Lucy still hasn’t reached the terminal stage, despite having the disease potentially all her life. There something in her biology that resists the pathogen, and I assure you; I will do my best to find out what it is.” She replied.
“See that you do, doctor, because until then, this ship is going to have to be under mandatory quarantine.” Said Picard.
In that moment, every one of Picard’s years was etched plainly on his face and even Data felt the fear that had suddenly swamped the room. If things went badly, the USS Enterprise-E would be nothing more than a giant, communal coffin. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Chapter Text

Her first week on the Enterprise was both the hardest and the easiest week of her life. On the one hand she was trapped in a ward full of strange lights and screens, pestered throughout the day by technology-obsessed doctors and the android that had brought her there, the whole time wondering if she’d betrayed her colony and its ideals. But on the other hand, she had no chores or responsibilities and had been introduced to such a wide variety of amazing things that she couldn’t help but enjoy. Maple syrup was one of them, but another favourite was the art supplies they’d given her; paint in colours she’d never seen before, crayons and pencils and colouring books. There were the hippo-sprays that took away all her pain and itchiness and the clothes that fitted her perfectly and felt so smooth she wasn’t sure if the material was even made from individual threads. The chocolate, the music, the shampoo that didn’t sting her scalp, and above all else, though she didn’t want to admit it- the feeling of not being alone anymore. If she wasn’t careful, she’d really start to like being here.
“Hello, Lucy. I would like to ask you some questions today, if that is acceptable to you.”
Thankfully, the android was often there to remind her of the fact that no matter how great things were on this ship, it would always be tainted. She sighed dramatically and moved her colouring book onto the table by her bed.
“Okay.” she replied, huffily.
The android, as always, took little note of her distaste towards it and, as always, that only annoyed her more. She wanted it to shout at her or be mean to her or something- anything that would confirm that she was right about it. But it was never anything but the textbook definition of patient.
It pulled up a chair next to her and sat in it, even though androids probably didn’t need to sit down at all and tapped on the PADD thing in its hands. The people here used them instead of paper or books and admittedly, they were quite cool. A single PADD could have hundreds of books and notes and information on it, and you could access any of it with just a few taps or swipes. The android had given her one to keep but she couldn’t really use it unless she knew how to read. It was still on the floor by her bag where she’d left it a couple of days ago.
“We need to know more about your colony and your family. I know you did not want to talk about them before, but would you be willing to today?” the android asked.
It had asked this every day since her arrival and every time, she’d told it that it wasn’t any of its business. She’d told Dr Crusher what she wanted to hear about the Red Plague and talked a little bit about Jones’ teachings to the man they called ‘captain’ but talking about her friends and family was different. It was private and painful, and she didn’t trust the android at all. She was about to tell it, yet again, that it wasn’t any of its business, when a thought popped into her head.
“If I tell you, will you leave me alone and never come back?”
The android’s face twitched, mimicking disappointment or regret.
“I have been ordered to talk to you, but I could ask the captain.” It replied, “Someone else might be able to take over my role.”
“Why didn’t your captain do that in the first place?” Lucy scoffed, “I don’t wanna talk to a machine and I never will and everyone else knows it so why did he order you to do it?”
It almost looked as though the android was… hurt. She couldn’t explain it but somehow, she could read an authenticity in the way its eyebrows furrowed, and its lips tightened. It was an incredibly realistic imitation of a human but in that moment, the line between imitation and human was eerily blurred. The words ‘I’m sorry’ bubbled up from within her, catching in her throat before they reached her vocal cords. This wasn’t a human being, no matter how realistic it looked. She couldn’t forget that.
“The captain thought that it would be beneficial to your transition into the Federation if you were able to ‘get used to’ me.”
Lucy sighed, exhaling her uncertainty and crossed her arms. Through her blurred vision, the android’s face reminded her a little of the warm yellow silhouette of a lit lamp, its eyes like glittering sparks blooming in the flame. She could still see Rocky in them. So simple and patient and sentient that it only made her angrier. She scratched at a new rash that had popped up on her jawline and tried not to think about the contradictions battling away in her thoughts.
“Well, that’s stupid.” She retorted, weakly, unable to come up with anything better.
“You think that most things are stupid.” It remarked.
Lucy tried to roll her eyes but laughed instead. The sound alarmed her, almost making her jump. Now the damn android would think it was funny. She did her best to quickly return to her serious scowl, but the damage was already done. Maybe if she doubled-down she would seem more in control?
“That’s ‘cause they are stupid.” She said, “There’s a lot of stupid stuff here.”
It was only after she said it that she realised she’d only made herself sound less in control.
“I have noticed correlations between things that you call stupid and things that you do not fully understand. Perhaps if you learned more about them, they would be… less stupid.”
The android waited patiently for her rebuttal, which she was definitely going to give it. None of what it had just said was true in the slightest and she turned to face it head on and tell it so.
“That’s stu- a load of rubbish!”
Her cheeks reddened and she lowered her head. No matter how hard she tried, she was only making things worse for herself. No matter what she said, the android always one-upped her, and she found herself circling back to same pathetic replies. When playing with her friends, that wasn’t really a problem but there was no way to argue with a highly advanced machine and win. Maybe it knew that and just enjoyed watching her get frustrated.
“It was only a theory.” It replied, “I am sorry if I offended you.”
“Do you really care if I get offended?”
Its head tilted to the side a little- it did that a lot when it was… thinking? She wasn’t sure what the equivalent was in a machine.
“I was programmed to value humanoid life and to never harm anyone without provocation. I would not intentionally cause you emotional or physical distress.”
“Okay but do you care?”
There was a pause. Lucy watched it intently, waiting for it to admit that did not and would never have that capability so that she could be satisfied with her hatred.
“I do care.” Answered the android, “But what about you?”
“Huh?”
“Do you care if I get hurt or offended?” It asked.
Whatever Lucy had expected from it, it certainly wasn’t that.
“Well… I- no- that’s- you’re not a person so you can’t—”
She stopped, unsure what she was supposed to say. Something about the conversation didn’t feel right anymore. Could the android really feel and care or was it just pretending? And if it could, had she hurt it? She’d been raised to be kind and respectful to the people around her; if the machine really was a person, had she broken one of dad’s most valued rules?
It was waiting for a coherent reply, its mild expression never changing.
“I don’t know.” She sighed, defeated.
It nodded its acknowledgment and stood up, apparently satisfied with the outcome of the discussion. She didn’t know why- she hadn’t given it much.
“I will ask Captain Picard about a replacement for my role.” It repeated, “If there is nothing else, I will say goodbye.”
Lucy could feel her insides squirming as she watched the android begin to turn away. Jones would hate her for this, but she had a feeling that it was the right thing to do, even if she rationally knew that it was dangerous.
“Wait.” She said as it- he began walking to the airlock, “I’ll answer the questions.”

With the Enterprise quarantined in the Drati system for the foreseeable future, Data had plenty of time off the bridge to delve into the Federation network and find out more about Lucy’s family and the colony’s beginnings. The little girl hadn’t been able (or perhaps willing) to provide him with much more than some names and an overview of the colony’s timeline, but Data expected that that would be all he would need. Finding patterns and information from only a handful of datapoints was something that his positronic net was quite literally programmed to do.
But after six hours of searching, he had found no living relatives for Lucy and absolutely nothing relating to High Leader Michael Jones or New Earth. The first problem was something Dr Crusher had confirmed when looking for DNA matches in the Federation’s medical database; the girl’s closest living relative was probably a third cousin once removed living in a penal colony in Germany. Data forwarded the issue to Tharan who was most qualified to deal with it and instead turned his focus towards the problem of the non-existent High Leader and his unrecorded colony.
There were several answers as to why this might be and after some consideration of the options, he had narrowed it down to the three most likely scenarios. The first was that the information had been removed from all of the databases and networks available to him with enough skill to leave no trace behind. It was plausible but not easily proven or disproven with the meagre leads he currently had so filed that theory for later analysis. The second was that the information he had was wrong or flawed. That would make sense for the names, the timelines or the colony’s beliefs but finding nothing related to a colony on Drati 3 or any anti-technology cult leaders matching Jones’ description meant that if the theory was accurate, it couldn’t account for all of the missing data. Which left option three; the information wasn’t there in the first place.
It made sense. Afterall, the colony had been secretive, and the members of Jones’ cult likely stopped using the Federation network as soon as they were taken into the fold. It was unlikely for such an extremist group to announce itself to the public in such a way without getting considerable attention. But no attention at all? No ex-members speaking out, no open recruitment, no slip ups that would have drawn attention to a fanatical leader? How would such a well-hidden group gather enough people and resources to form a colony without being found?
He needed more information before he could proceed further and besides, according to his internal chronometer and the incessant meowing at the foot of his desk, it was time for Spot’s dinner. Data shut down his terminal and walked to the replicator, Spot padding along behind him expectantly. Since gaining emotion, Data’s relationship with the old, ginger cat had grown into something that was excitingly complex. He now had the ability to love her and greatly enjoyed the sound of her purring and the way she nuzzled into his hand when being petted. But at the same time, Spot could be brilliantly annoying. Knocking things over, meowing loudly when he was trying to initiate his dream sequence, scratching at his furniture and jumping up on his desk when he was trying to work. Emotionally, Spot could be quite taxing to look after and live with, something he had been unable to appreciate when he first got her.
“Feline supplement twenty-five.” Data announced.
Spot immediately ran over to her eating area and sat, waiting impatiently for her meal. Sometimes Data wondered what it would be like to have a cat’s life. A small, furry body with four legs and a considerably lesser brain, caring about nothing more than the warmest spots on the bed and your next meal, unaware of the larger society around you. It was a pointless speculation but one that he’d been told was very human.
Data picked up the bowl of cat food from the replicator and set it down next to Spot’s water bowl. As always, the cat dove her nose into the bowl before it was even touching the floor and as always, Data warned her that she would get indigestion if she didn’t slow down, even though she didn’t have the capacity to understand such concepts as the workings of the feline digestive system.
He was about sit in his armchair and re-read the works of Jules Verne, when his combadge trilled. Spot’s ears pricked up and she turned towards Data with a brief, inquiring look before returning to her food.
“Commander, I’m sorry to disturb you but I’ve got a problem in med bay.”
It was Dr Crusher, whose shift was supposed to have ended thirty-two minutes ago. Data frowned, allowing the concern and curiosity to whirr in the back of his positronic mind. He tapped his combadge.
“What is the problem, doctor?” he asked, unsure why the issue was being brought directly to him.
“It’s Lucy. She refuses to go to sleep until she can talk to you. She says that she has something she needs to tell you.”

Chapter Text

After the android left that morning, Lucy found that she wasn’t feeling the usual relief and hatred that always followed the end of its visits. There was a heaviness in her heart and a sensation of wrongness in the back of her mind that grew and grew as the day progressed. At first, she thought it was just because of her new surroundings and the weird medicines and the constant grief for her empty home. But by the evening, she had concluded that this time it was none of those things. She was feeling guilt and regret.
When Dr Crusher came in to give her a hippo-spray before bed, she burst into tears, surprising both herself and the doctor. She’d done a lot of crying over the past week, but this was the first time that her tears weren’t for herself. Dr Crusher sat on the end of the bed, her warm, knowing smile making Lucy wonder if she had kids of her own. Even when stuck in that hideous red suit, she managed to be a comforting presence.
“What’s wrong?” the doctor asked, resting a gloved hand on one of Lucy’s.
“I need to talk to Data.” She sobbed, pathetically.
“Data? Why?”
“Because he’s a person!” Lucy cried.
She wiped her face with a bandaged hand, even though the nurses always said not to. Loopy’s floppy head was tilted towards her as if he was unsure what was going on.
“And I don’t get why he’s a person but he is and I’ve been treating him like- like… crap! And I thought it was okay because he’s a robot and he doesn’t have feelings but then- now I think he does have feelings and a brain and everything and that means I’ve hurt him, and my dad said that I—”
Dr Crusher squeezed her hand and Lucy fell silent. She was rambling but she didn’t know how to get her words out properly. Her mind was jumbled, and her heart ached and maybe if she could just tell Data that she was sorry, she’d feel better.
“I need to say sorry.” She mumbled.
She knew that she probably sounded like a baby, but Dr Crusher didn’t appear annoyed by her. The pressure of her hand around hers was comforting and unfamiliar. It had been a long time since anyone had held her hand or hugged her when she was crying and just knowing that she wasn’t alone made her feel lighter and heavier at the same time. It hurt but it was healing too. Bittersweet.
“Well, in the morning, you’ll be able to tell him that.” Said the doctor, reassuringly.
Lucy shook her head.
“No. I can’t wait until then. I need to tell him now.”
“It’s sweet that you want to apologise but I’m sure Data understands. You need to sleep for this medication to work, okay?”
Pulling her hand from under the doctor’s, Lucy kicked off her blanket and dropped her legs down to the floor. She stood up next to the bed and crossed her arms, fixing the doctor with a firm, triumphant stare.
“I need to say sorry now or I’ll never sleep. I’ll explode.” She announced, seriously.
The doctor’s bewildered sigh was barely audible through her mask, but it was there.
“Alright.” She said, knowing from experience that there was little point in reasoning with a determined eleven-year-old, “But you need to go to sleep straight after.”
“Thank you.” Replied Lucy, quietly.
She stood, swaying back and forth on her toes, while Dr Crusher spoke to the android. Everything would okay once she apologised. Her fear and guilt and sadness would wash away, and she’d feel better than she ever had. Dad would probably have been proud of her if he was still alive. She hoped so, anyway.
“He’s on his way.” Said Dr Crusher, a minute later.
Lucy smiled gratefully and sat back down on the bed. The lights in the medbay turned down, as they did every night, reducing her surroundings to barely visible grayish clumps. The doctors said it was something called night blindness. Instinctively, she reached to her bedside table and scrabbled for the button to her lights. Her little corner of the isolation ward bloomed once again, not into clarity, but into enough sharpness that she could distinguish people and objects from one another. She could feel the burn of Dr Crusher’s sympathetic gaze and scrubbed at the tears and snot on her face with her shirt. Dad wouldn’t have approved of that, especially in front of other people, but all of her clothes were dematerialised after she’d used them anyway, so she doubted it really mattered. She still didn’t know what ‘dematerialised’ actually meant, but it was pretty cool watching her trousers disappear into thin air.
“When’s he gonna get here?” she asked.
“He shouldn’t be longer than a few minutes. Do you need some tissues?”
It wasn’t a question but a suggestion. Lucy was old enough to know that, but she still shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the wet patch on the collar of her shirt. Thankfully, the doctor didn’t push the issue, which was good because she wasn’t her mom anyway. Too many of the nurses and doctors here acted like they were in charge of her just because she was a kid and it drove her nuts.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, staring impatiently out of the isolation ward window for the tall blob of black and gold that somehow contained a soul. He was so similar to a Borg, a creature that was not only soulless but dissolved every soul it met, and yet it- he was so, so different from the artificial life she had been warned about. It was something she hadn’t been able to see until that morning but now that she knew it, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She hoped that saying sorry was enough. Lucy didn’t know what she’d do if it wasn’t.

When Data walked past the isolation ward window, he couldn’t avoid noticing the way Lucy seemed to jump up in anticipation. Dr Crusher had been purposely vague about what it was the girl had wanted to say but based on Lucy’s insistence on seeing him immediately and her reaction at his arrival, he assumed that it must be something important. Perhaps she was finally willing to provide more information.
But when he exited the airlock into the isolation ward, he was met something that he had not expected. A head slammed into his torso, two arms snapped around him and he was suddenly feeling very, very surprised.
“I’m sorry!” Lucy shouted into his uniform, the words coming out like a cannonball from a cannon.
He found that the emotion of surprise was impeding his ability to process the situation, and he briefly considered turning off his emotion chip to compensate. But as quickly as it came, it went. He looked down at the ball of curls mashed into his torso and wondered what it was that he had done to warrant this. The girl was squeezing him tight enough that if he were human, he would certainly have been uncomfortable. In the corner, Dr Crusher was trying to stifle a laugh, pretending to be engaged with something on her PADD. Data looked towards her for guidance, but the doctor gave him nothing more helpful than a shrug; she appeared to be enjoying the spectacle.
“I’m sorry I didn’t think you were person. I’m really, really sorry.” Continued Lucy, loosening her grip on him and stepping back. She appeared almost as surprised as Data had been. It seemed that a death-grip hug hadn’t been part of her plan.
“This is the important thing you needed to tell me?” questioned Data, though he was already ninety-six-point-seven percent sure of the answer. He had recently been experimenting with asking redundant questions, the way humans often did when surprised or disappointed.
“Well, yeah.” Lucy replied, giving him a confused look, “Isn’t that what you wanted? I thought that… y’know- you have feelings. I hurt them, didn’t I?”
Data considered the question carefully. In spite of the fact that his feelings could indeed be hurt, he did not think that they had been. Lucy had insulted him and refused to see his sentience and in any other context, perhaps he would have been saddened or angered by her words and behaviour. But it was something he had predicted would happen when Picard requested that he befriend her. It would have been unusual if she had been respectful and trusting around him right from the start and he had been around emotional beings long enough to know that they often said things they didn’t mean when stressed.
Everything she had said and done, while ultimately wrong, had been developmentally and situationally appropriate. But had it… hurt? That was what he had been asked and that was the topic of the conversation. Whether or not he understood the reasons behind the behaviour had nothing to do with how the emotion chip’s programming reacted to a scenario. Why was his mind avoiding the real question? He had never done that before. Over the course of an entire second, Data analysed the question, his avoidance, his emotions, his memory banks and everything that had led up to his lapse in cognition. Finally, he concluded that his inability to focus directly on what he’d been asked was most likely a malfunction. And that the answer to Lucy’s question was in fact:
“Yes.” He replied.
The little girl’s face fell, and her shoulders slumped.
“I’m really sorry, Data.” She repeated, “I won’t do it again.”
“That is okay. I understand and I accept your apology.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am an android; I never say or do anything without a context-specific level of certainty.” He reassured.
Lucy raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that was a mix between awe and bafflement. The start of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.
“You don’t make a lot of sense sometimes.” She remarked, “And that wasn’t me being mean, by the way. I just- it’s just true. But it’s okay.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
From behind them, Data could hear Dr Crusher moving closer, her hazard suit rustling with each step.
“If you don’t mind, I think Lucy needs to get back to bed.” She said, placing a hand on Lucy’s shoulder.
“Of course, doctor.” Data agreed.
The little girl looked from Beverley to Data and back, as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“But it’s not even dark!” she protested dramatically.
“That’s because you turned the lights back on earlier, remember?” said Dr Crusher, steering her towards the biobed.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t turn them off so early. Days are way longer on New Earth, and I always got to stay up!”
Lucy stood still, feet planted firmly on the ground. She crossed her arms huffily and stared at the doctor with a stubbornness that could only be achieved through sheer preteen will.
“Actually, days on New Earth are eight minutes shorter than that of standard ship cycles.” Corrected Data.
“You’re supposed to be on my side!” complained Lucy, “I thought you forgave me!”
“I did forgive you. I was only stating a fact.” Said Data, “And I am not on anyone’s side.”
“Come on now Lucy. You’re already overdue for your medicine.” Said Dr Crusher.
“I don’t want it anyway!”
“Lucy, we’ve been over this. It’s not going to hurt you- I thought we’d agreed on this.”
“We did but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want anything from a hippo.”
There was a brightness in Lucy’s eyes now that suggested she was enjoying this, though Data couldn’t deduce how or why. Dr Crusher gave him a knowing look and waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal.
“I’ll deal with this, Data.” She whispered to him.
It looked like Lucy was now holding her breath for some reason, eyes screwed shut, her whole body tensed in rebellion. While a confusing display, Data found that it was also quite interesting. He hadn’t been a first-hand witness of human child’s ‘tantrum’ before and it was as bizarre and unnecessary as he had heard they were.
“Are you sure, doctor?” he asked.
Dr Crusher smiled and nodded. She looked very tired behind her mask; Data wondered how much sleep she had gotten since Lucy came aboard.
“Trust me, Data- I’ve done this a million times.”
From context, Data assumed that she was exaggerating. Wesley hadn’t been the easiest child, according to Beverley, but it was still statistically improbable that she had dealt with a million tantrums.
“If you are certain.” He replied.
He said goodbye, and surprisingly, Lucy quickly said goodbye back before resuming holding her breath. He cycled the airlock, went through standard decontamination procedures and as soon as he had exited into the medbay and was safely out of earshot, he contacted Geordi. It was getting late, and his shift would have ended almost an hour ago, but Data couldn’t wait until morning. His earlier malfunction needed to be addressed before it led to greater complications. A full second to process a simple, yes/no question? A full second? Panic was spreading across his positronic net, reaching from circuit to circuit with cold, thorny fingers, gripping his consciousness around the throat and threatening to dissolve his control over the situation. He turned off his emotion chip, tapped his combadge and started walking towards engineering before Geordi had even answered.

Chapter Text

“Well, Data, there’s nothing wrong with your hardware. I’ll check your software, just to be on the safe side but you said a self-diagnostic came up negative, right?” said Geordi, as he plugged Data’s positronic net into a portable computer.
“That is correct, though it is possible that my self-diagnostic program has also been affected.” Replied Data.
Geordi sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes. It was 0100 hours, and the engineer was still up trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Even without his emotion chip activated, Data could appreciate the lengths his friend was going to for his sake. An ensign on the night shift walked past, glancing briefly in their direction before continuing towards the warp core. There weren’t many crew in engineering at this time and those that were there looked bored or tired. Data could hear the ensign yawning as soon as they rounded the corner out of sight.
“Okay… running the scan now.” Muttered Geordi, turning the computer screen so that Data could see the readouts.
Data watched closely as the diagnostic information rolled across the screen. No issues with his memory banks. No issues with sensory processing. No issues with his speech program. Negative for malware. Negative for lost files. Nothing. More nothing. Still more nothing. His scan was within his previous scans’ baselines. So, what caused the malfunction?
“Looks good to me.” Said Geordi, “You sure you had a processing error?”
“It took me one point zero zero two seconds to find the answer to a question, Geordi.” Data reminded him.
“Okay, I understand that that’s a really long time for an android but maybe it was a difficult question!”
He was trying to lighten the mood but seeing as Data currently did not have one, the effort was unnecessary.
“It was a yes/no question. I had only two answers to choose from.”
“Wait, what was the question? You didn’t actually tell me.”
Geordi stood up from the computer and leaned against the wall, stretching out his back. Data turned slightly to face him, mindful of the wires plugged into his positronic net.
“Lucy asked me if she had ‘hurt my feelings’.” He answered.
“Huh. Okay. Have you ever been asked that before?”
“No, I have not.”
“Then maybe it surprised you. Maybe it even confused you.” Suggested Geordi.
“It did surprise me but even with my emotion chip, I am not capable of confusion in the way that humans are; my processing and logical capabilities are too advanced.” Said Data.
Out of nowhere, Geordi started to laugh, the sound echoing around the near empty engineering.
“Are you kidding me, Data?” he chuckled, “How many times have you not gotten an idiom or a social cue or a joke? The whole reason you decided to install the chip was because you got confused!”
“Lack of knowledge or experience on a particular topic is not the same thing as confusion.”
“Okay, okay. What were you thinking during that second it took you to answer?”
“I was thinking about the situational and developmental appropriateness of Lucy’s behaviour, whether my feelings could be hurt, why she had hugged me, the emotions that were being supplied by my emotion chip, the consequences of the various answers to the question, how Dr Crusher was watching me but pretending not to, any adjustments I could make to feline supplement forty, why I was unable to focus on my answer to the question, how I could obtain more information for the investi—”
“I get the picture Data.” Interrupted Geordi, “You were thinking about a lot of stuff.”
“I was not processing more information than I typically do at any given time and yet it still took me over a second to produce an answer.”
“I know. But Data, it sounds to me like you knew the answer right away but didn’t want to answer it. Maybe something was going on subconsciously, you know? Maybe you were stalling.”
Data shook his head, shifting the wires that trailed down to the monitor.
“I do not have a subconscious.” He reminded him.
“Maybe you didn’t a few years ago but who’s to say you don’t have one now? Doctor Soong sure seems like the type of guy to hide a few easter eggs in that emotion chip of yours. You didn’t think you could dream until you did. You didn’t think you feel until you did. There are things about your mind that even you didn’t know about until they hit you.”
“So, you believe that what I experienced was an intended part of my programming and not an error or malfunction?”
The theory was interesting, and it would explain their inability to find anything wrong with his positronic net, but if it were true, then it was highly likely that it would happen again. He had always wanted to be human but to work at the processing speeds of a human was not something he had ever considered.
“It would make sense, Data.” Replied Geordi, “Honestly, I think you were scared to admit that your feelings could be hurt. Maybe you were afraid of losing control like you did at Amargosa.”
With his emotion chip deactivated, Data found that he could look back on the experience with clarity and impartiality, but he had thus far, been unable to determine exactly what the experience had been until Geordi had pointed it out. The fact that his emotions now had the ability to muddy his experiences and functions, even in hindsight, was not something that he had expected. But it was obvious to him now; he had been afraid of losing control. And ironically, it was that fear that had made him lose control for a full second.
Geordi patted his shoulder reassuringly and started to disconnect the wires from his positronic net.
“I don’t think you need an engineer for this.” He said, “I think you need a counsellor.”

Lucy had never met an alien before. Data sort of counted as one but seeing as he was made from technology, she decided that he was better off in his own category. When her dad told her about people from other planets that had pointy ears or fur or green scales, she hadn’t quite believed him. There were humans and there were borg; she had never been taught about any other species and while the idea grew on her in her months of isolation, she never expected that she would actually see one.
Dr Crusher had taken the time to explain what Tharan looked like before he met her, but nothing could prepare her for the experience itself. In fact, as soon as Tharan entered the room, she couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of his blueness. He was unable to catch the Red plague and so walked in with his whole, stalky, white-haired head uncovered. She couldn’t make out whether or not he had scales, but her eyes could definitely see his strange, bright blueness in all its bizarre glory.
“You really are blue!” she exclaimed, excitedly.
When his antennae twitched with amusement, she was barely able to contain a delighted squeal. She had never seen anything as new and strange and wonderful as this. Except, of course, for maple syrup, which she doubted anything could ever match.
“Hm, you think so?” replied Tharan, playfully, “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Sorry. I’ve never met an alien before.”
“I know. It’s always a surprise when you see a new species for the first time.” Said the counsellor, settling into the chair beside her bed, “I remember when I first saw a human. I was a few years younger than you and I’m going to be honest, I was actually disappointed.”
“Disappointed? Why?”
The alien laughed and Lucy was surprised to find that it sounded just like a human laugh. He even smiled the same way.
“Because my friend Th’yn said that humans had tails and lived in trees.”
“What- like monkeys?” giggled Lucy.
“Exactly like monkeys. I even asked one of them where they were hiding their tail- you can imagine how that went.”
“To be honest, it would be pretty cool if we did have tails. The cows at home had tails and they looked kinda funny when they flicked them.”
Tharan shifted in his seat, leaning ever so slightly closer to her. He had a PADD on his lap that he’d positioned screen-side down, though Lucy didn’t know if this was to hide what was on it or because he didn’t need it yet.
“Dr Crusher mentioned that you like cows. Did you have a lot of animals back home?” asked Tharan.
“Uh-huh. We had twenty cows and about seventy chickens and a flock of sheep. But I liked the cows best. Especially Rocky because she always let me pet her and she could even play with a ball.”
“She sounds like she was a good friend.” Remarked Tharan softly.
Lucy nodded. The shock of seeing an Andorian for the first time was beginning to wear off and the weight of her situation was shifting back into place. Rocky and all of the other animals had died a long time ago now. The counsellor almost certainly knew this and had encouraged her reminiscing anyway. All anyone on this ship wanted to talk about was all of the dead people she loved and her ghost town of a home. It wasn’t theirs and none of them except Data had ever seen it and yet everyone was obsessed with it all. They were only trying to help but she didn’t see how talking about Rocky was supposed to help anyone.
“Why are you here, Mr Tharan? I told Data everything; why do I need to tell you too?” she questioned.
The counsellor smiled and Lucy found herself mesmerised by the way his antennae slowly curled in the air, moving like seaweed in a current.
“I’m here for a few reasons, Lucy. Do you know what a counsellor is?”
“Dr Crusher said it was someone who helps people with thoughts and feelings.”
“That’s right and I’m here to help you with your thoughts and feelings if you want that. But I’m also here as something called a social worker—have you ever heard of that before?”
“No.” replied Lucy, slowly.
The tone of the conversation had changed now, and Lucy wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Something didn’t feel right.
“A social worker is someone who connects you to support and services and advocates for people. Because you are a human child with no living immediate family, you are automatically given Federation citizenship and assigned a social worker who can ensure that your rights and needs are met. Usually, this job would go to someone who specifically trained for child social work but seeing as the Enterprise is in quarantine, I’m temporarily filling that role.”
The alien paused, turning on the PADD and looking at something that Lucy couldn’t make out. She wasn’t sure what all of the words and terms he had used meant, but something about the way he was saying them made her worried. She started to pick at the edge of a sore on her thumb, and tried to focus on what Tharan said next. There was a good chance that it was something she needed to know.
“We’ve looked into your family, and you don’t have any close relatives that would be suitable to look after you and that means that you will need to go into something called foster care. What that means is that you’ll be living with a person or a family who will look after you until you can be adopted and live in a permanent home.” Continued the counsellor, “And that probably sounds scary but I’m here to make sure that whoever becomes your legal guardian will be a good fit for you. Do you understand me so far?”
Lucy could feel every pulse of blood through every vessel in her body. Her mouth felt dry and she no longer about the fact that she was sitting next to a bright blue alien. As it turned out, there were far crazier things that could happen to a person than meeting a new species.
“You want to kidnap me.” She said, dumbfounded, “You guys were never gonna let me go back home, were you?”
She stared at him, trying to give him a look that was angry and intimidated even though she only felt scared and betrayed.
“No, Lucy. We’re not kidnapping you. We’re making sure that you stay safe and provided for. Drati 3 isn’t safe for an adult, much less a child on their own. You have to underst—”
“No! I thought that—dad said that you would just cure us and then let us go!” shouted Lucy.
Gingerly, the counsellor reached over and tried to take her hand in one of his, but she pulled away reflexively and jumped off the bed.
“Do I not get a choice about whether I want Federation citi-whatever-ship?” she demanded.
“As a minor, you aren’t able to—”
“So, no?”
Lucy marched to the airlock, her fists balled tight enough that the fragile skin on her knuckles began to crack. She could hear the counsellor stand up, sighing. Quickly, she pushed the buttons that would begin the airlock cycle. She had watched people come in and out dozens of times everyday and the pattern stayed the same every time. Even with her poor vision, she had pieced it all together days ago.
Tharan was already on her when the door started to open but she had an advantage over him; she was half his size and according to Dr Crusher, ‘underweight’. The door was barely a third of the way open before she started to shimmy through, kicking and swatting at the panicking counsellor.
“Lucy you can’t go through there!” he yelled, trying to grab her arm, “You’ll infect the whole ship if you leave!”
His hand closed around her wrist, firm but unaggressive. The gap in the doorway was widening—in just a few seconds, it would be big enough for him to fit through. Without thinking, Lucy bent forwards and bit his blue hand hard, loosening his fingers. Immediately, she pulled away and slammed the button that would open the next door. There was a taste in her mouth that was metallic and bitter and utterly unfamiliar. When she spat, it was the purple colour of two different bloods. One red and one blue. She hadn’t meant to bite that hard, but she was too scared and infuriated to think about it any further.
She hopped from one foot to the other, as air was pulled in and pushed out around her. The alien was pounding on the door, and she knew she would have to be quick; someone had to have noticed by now. Finally, the door hissed and began to open, inch by inch until she could start to squeeze through. Someone shouted and then another and then a noise like a whining cow began to sound. A figure moved towards her, and she tugged herself harder through the gap, ripping the sleeve of her ugly, teal gown. She could see a rectangular shape in the distance that looked promising and charged towards it, dodging a nurse on the way. As she approached, the rectangle slid to the side, opening onto a long, wide corridor. She had no idea which way to go to get off the ship but at this point, any choice was better than no choice. She darted to the left and sprinted down the corridor, almost knocking someone over and hoped that she wouldn’t meet a dead end. Her heart hammered and her throat felt raw, and her chest felt like one big cramp but if she didn’t get out of here, she would never see home again and never be allowed to make her own decisions. The thought of living with a bunch of technology-worshipping strangers urged her on.
The soles of her bare feet began to hurt as old blisters burst, and scabs tore. She hadn’t run this fast in years and was only just remembering why. Another door loomed ahead, tantalising and luring. She could hear footsteps behind her; they were closing in, trying to grab her and lock her away with them. She wouldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t—
THWOMM…
She slammed into an invisible wall, knocking her onto her butt. Her nose started to bleed, and she sat there, confused and bewildered, staring at the nothingness that had somehow blocked her path. The footsteps grew louder, and she tried to scrabble to her feet, before she was even on her knees, when a hand gripped her upper arm. She could hear people saying something, and see several blurry faces encircle her. Panting and dizzy, she tried to struggle against them, but it soon became clear that her efforts were fruitless. Defeated, she slumped to the floor and began to cry.

Chapter Text

The room fell silent as the captain walked in. He strode to his seat at the head of the table without saying a word, a grave expression on his face. Tharan swallowed nervously and pulled at the collar of his uniform. LaForge’s chair squeaked as he shifted, the sound echoing around the room. For several, tense moments, no one said anything. And then Picard cleared his throat.
“I’ve just spoken to admiral Keyes. Until the disease is cured or every last viable host is dead and disintegrated, the Enterprise will remain under quarantine.” He announced gravely, “And until further notice, all non-essential human crewmembers will be confined to quarters with all rooms set to independent air supplies. I want all doors vacuum sealed, and all vents set to maximum filtration. Additionally, all crewmembers—human or otherwise—will be required to be scanned for contamination once every twenty-four hours and upon contact with any infected person. I want every precaution taken to mitigate the spread of this disease, am I clear?”
A flutter of ‘absolutely’-s and ‘of course, captain’-s and ‘yes, sir’-s drifted across the room.
“Doctor, how many have been infected?” Picard asked.
“So far, just the people in med bay and the one human who was in the corridor at the time. Twelve people altogether. All of them human.” Replied Dr Crusher.
“And you are quite certain that the spores cannot infect any of the other species on board?”
“None of our non-human crewmates no, but any Earth mammal has the potential for infection.”
“Alright, then the quarantine procedures extend to pets as well. Do you have any further recommendations, doctor Crusher?”
“I would advise that all crewmembers wash themselves twice a day with an anti-fungal soap. It won’t make a big difference, but it should help reduce the likelihood of infection.” Said the doctor, “Other than that, all we can do is work on a cure or a vaccine.”
“Agreed.” Replied Picard, before focusing his attention on the counsellor.
Tharan avoided looking the captain in the eye, cringing in his seat.
The Andorian started to speak, unable to contain his nerves.
“I just want to say, sir that I did—”
“Mr Tharan,” Picard interrupted sternly, “While I didn’t expect one of my senior staff to be bested by a sick child, what happened wasn’t your fault. None of us predicted that she would learn the code for the airlock or decide to try to run away and that was the fault of everyone involved, myself included. From now on, I want the airlock accessible only through biometrics and I also want someone in the isolation ward with her at all times. I don’t care who, as long as they are immune to the Red plague. As her social worker, I want you to make that decision, Tharan and I want you to make it by 0700 tomorrow morning.”
Relief and confusion washed over the counsellor’s face, and he nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, sir.” he confirmed, “I’ll be on that right away.”
Data expected that it would be a while before Tharan fully integrated into the crew. He had some big shoes to fill as ship’s counsellor, and it was obvious that he knew it. All the same, Data found it… comforting, to know that even experts on thoughts and emotions could still lose control over them from time to time. He watched the Andorian exhale slowly and regain his focus on the conversation as though he hadn’t been flustered at all just a few seconds ago. Whatever Tharan’s emotional regulation technique was he seemed to be able to use it quickly and effectively; Data wondered if it would work on androids.
“Number one,” said Picard, “How is your investigation going?”
Data intertwined his fingers and rested them on the table, aiming for an appearance of professionalism and stability. Since becoming first officer, appearances were of greater significance. It wasn’t enough simply to do his job to the best of his ability—he needed to reinforce his competency and command capabilities in other ways, particularly through body language. It was a piece of advice that Riker had given him before leaving for the Titan and something that he always tried to improve upon. He flattened his expression slightly to give an air of confidence and started to dish out his bad news.
“So far, I have found no information regarding High Leader Jones or the Drati 3 colony. My current theory is that the information is non-existent in the Federation and civilian databases. If I cannot learn more from Lucy, the next best course of action will be to more thoroughly explore the colony.”
“I see. Do you think it’s possible that an away mission to Drati 3 would help with the doctor’s research efforts?” inquired the captain.
Data shook his head.
“I doubt it. According to Lucy, none of the colonists’ attempts at healing were effective in any noticeable way.”
“Then until we have a solution to the plague, I’m postponing your investigation into the colony. Keep working with Lucy but for now, research and enforcement of quarantine procedures is our top priority. Is there anything else?”
The captain looked around the table expectantly. No one had anything more to say, and everyone looked a degree more stressed than they had before the meeting, except for Tharan who looked almost pleased. Picard stood up and straightened out his uniform.
“Dismissed.” He announced, gruffly “And good luck.”
One by one, the senior staff stood, nodding in acknowledgement, gathering their PADDs and tucking in their chairs. Daniels, who had said nothing during the discussion stayed rooted to his seat, beads of sweat sticking out on his forehead. No one noticed at first, but just as the captain was about to exit the room, the security chief shouted out.
“Wait!”
His voice was loud and fearful and demanding. Everyone paused and turned to look his way as he pulled his right hand from his lap and lay it flat against the table. A pale, red blotch was spread out over the back of his hand. If no one knew any better, it could have been the beginning of a sunburn or heat rash.
“I only noticed it a minute ago.” Daniels sighed.
He opened his mouth to say more but, in the end, only shook his head in bitter disbelief. The door to the conference room hissed closed as Picard stepped back inside. He leaned heavily on the table and grimaced. If Daniels was infected it was highly likely that the rest of the humans in the room were too and to have almost all of the senior staff locked up in quarantine was going to make the tasks ahead significantly more difficult. As Dr Crusher began examining the lieutenant’s hand, Data decided that it would be best to break the silence with some ‘positive thinking’.
“On the plus side, the disease will take up to a decade to reach a terminal stage even without treatment.” He reminded them, brightly, “That is a more than sufficient length of time to find a cure.”
Unfortunately, it appeared that only Data appreciated his sentiment. No one smiled or sighed with relief or thanked him for his optimism. In fact, all he got was two glares, a groan and a cringe.

Lucy stared into her bowl of porridge, stirring it mindlessly with her spoon, watching the dark brown syrup mix with the thickened grains and milk. It was delicious and the smell was tantalising but the thought of eating it made her feel even angrier than she already was. Loopy was tucked under her blanket next to her, his head lolling to the side as though he were looking up at her. His expression was blank, but it felt as though he was questioning her with his round, embroidered eyes.
“Stop judging me.” She growled, turning the bear’s head the other way, “All anyone here does is judge me.”
She lifted a spoonful of porridge into the air and tipped it to the side, letting the oats slide off and splat back into the bowl. Her body was still sore from her attempted escape the day before and her feet felt as though they’d been sandpapered, salted and whacked with a mallet for good measure. She knew that running was generally a bad idea when you had the Red plague but it shouldn’t have been that bad. Bruises were starting to spread over her legs and there was a now a small blind spot in the corner of her only good eye. She could taste blood in her mouth where the sores on her tongue and lips were starting weep. She knew it would happen eventually, but she’d expected it would at least be another few months. Maybe they would let her body rest with the rest of her family. They weren’t perfect, but they seemed decent enough to at least grant a simple request like that.
A drop of blood, so fresh that it was almost pink, landed in the bowl. Her nose felt wet, and she wiped it on the back of her hand, staring at the red stain in apathy. She grimaced at the bloodied porridge and put it on the bedside table. Once the bleeding started, it would take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. In her case, she expected that she would have a little longer; the disease took its time with her for some reason, moving from stage to stage much slower than it had for her loved ones. She leaned her head back against the wall, her whole body still, and looked up at the ceiling with its technological lantern-light, the blind spot following her like a dark cloud.
Over fifty other people had been infected because of her escape attempt and while Lucy couldn’t count that high, she knew it was a big number. The blobs outside the isolation ward window multiplied throughout the day, red-suited doctors and nurses rushing here and there, trying to find space for yet another victim of her short-lived freedom. She knew that she ought to feel regret about what she had done but she was still angry at Tharan and the way that she had been turned into the Federation’s property. Besides, with all their amazing, wonderful, stupid technology, they’d probably find a cure way before anyone even got close to dying.
Other than herself, of course. It was too late for her. Lucy closed her eyes and swallowed back her bloodied saliva. She wished her father could be there for her, holding her whilst she fell asleep, telling her that everything would be okay. She didn’t want to die alone but she supposed that she would have to.

Data had just finished giving Spot her breakfast when his door chimed. It wasn’t often that he had visitors at 0600 hours and Spot looked particularly offended at the interruption to her meal. Given the circumstances, Data suspected that whoever wanted to see him would have bad news. There was certainly enough of it going around since the discovery that the Enterprise’s filters had done nothing to counteract the spread of infection and not even forcefields were able to block the naturally disruptive spores. LaForge was working on a technical solution but if the rate of infection couldn’t be halted by the end of the day, it was likely that every human on board would soon be infected.
Preparing himself for the worst, Data opened his door.
“Good morning, sir. Apologies for the time but I have something to discuss with you, and it can’t wait.”
It was Tharan. Of all the people he had expected, the new counsellor wasn’t one of them. Clearly, the counsellor had something important to say but he couldn’t quite figure out whether it was good or bad. Tharan seemed slightly restless and perhaps uncertain about something, but he didn’t appear particularly worried or afraid. When Data gestured for him to enter, the man’s polite smile even seemed genuine.
“Good morning, Tharan. Would you like a beverage?” greeted Data, offering him a seat on the sofa in front of the viewscreen. Given the fact that Tharan had decided it was best to talk to him in his own quarters, he decided that a more casual approach would be most appropriate.
“Oh, no thank you, sir.” Replied Tharan, sitting down and placing his datapad on the coffee table.
Data sat in an armchair opposite the counsellor. The chair was a replica of a 1970s West Earth style, complete with an orange and red tartan pattern and matching footrest. He had been experimenting with creating a more ‘homely’ look to his quarters and as it turned out, there were some great tips in ancient shopping catalogues. That armchair in particular had been described as ‘timeless, comfortable and sophisticated’. He leaned back in the chair as though stretching out his back, even though his mechanical spine had no need for realignment and nodded expectantly.
“What did you wish to discuss, counsellor?” he asked.
Tharan cleared his throat and sighed.
“So, you know how the captain asked me to find a- a chaperone for Lucy?” he said, “Well, he of course requested that whoever I chose needed to be immune to the ‘Red Plague’ and so, frankly I don’t have many candidates.”
“There are one hundred and twelve non-human adults on board the Enterprise. That should be a more than adequate pool of candidates.”
“You would think so, but Lucy is a very unique case, psychologically and socially speaking. She needs more than just a guard, you see. She needs someone who can be nurturing and understanding. Someone who can protect her emotionally as well physically. A human would be perfect for this because she’s of course most familiar with her own species and more likely to gain what she needs psychologically from another human. But I can’t recommend any humans for the position.” Explained Tharan, his hands and antennae unable to stay still amidst the frustration of the dilemma, “So I considered species that look the most similar to humans. I was thinking of asking one of the Betazoids on board but then I realised that Lucy likely wouldn’t respond well to finding out that they were telepathic so then I thought maybe a Trill, or Guinan, maybe a Vulcan or a Bajoran or at one point- can you believe this- a hologram, but none of them seemed quite right for the job and I take this sort of thing very seriously.”
When the Andorian finally paused for breath, Data held up a hand to stop him.
“I believe you are ‘rambling’.” He cautioned, “Perhaps you should slow down.”
At first, Tharan seemed puzzled but a second later his antennae deflated, and he chuckled awkwardly.
“Yes, you’re right, commander. I’m sorry, I get a little carried away sometimes. I’ll get to the point. See, I realised that the best person for the job would be someone that she already knew and had already begun to build a relationship with. And, well, with all of the humans taken off the list, that leaves you.”
For a moment, Data felt his body freeze involuntarily. Spot, having just finished licking her bowl clean padded over, her footsteps suddenly the loudest noise in the room. She jumped up onto his lap, and folded her legs beneath her, eyes fixed glaringly on Tharan.
“You want me to be Lucy’s temporary guardian?” said Data, slowly.
Spot kneaded her paws into his legs, purring contentedly. Her obliviousness was almost enviable to him.
“In a manner of speaking. I know Picard wanted you to continue the interviews anyway and until the Enterprise can leave the system, I doubt there will be much for you to do on the bridge. Of course, it is optional. I just thought I’d run it by you.”
It was an unusual request and not one that could be taken lightly. Even if Tharan were right, his duties as first officer were a high priority, particularly now that Picard was quarantined. While the captain could still work remotely, having a commanding officer with a physical presence was valuable to the crew and the running of the ship. He simply didn’t have the time or the expertise for such a delicate task- surely Tharan knew this.
He scratched Spot’s ears, feeling the pressure in his hand as she pushed her head against his fingers in delight. He wondered if Deanna would’ve come to the same conclusion.
“Are you quite certain that this the best course of action?” he asked, warily.
Surprisingly, Tharan scoffed and shrugged his shoulders.
“Commander, I’m never completely certain about anything but I’m less certain about the rest of the candidates than I am about you. If Dr Crusher’s right, Lucy seems to have taken a liking to you and that’s a good place to start in my opinion.”
“You discussed this with Dr Crusher?”
“Well, it’s always good to get a second opinion. And of everyone on board, she has spent the most time with Lucy.”
So, two people thought that this was a good idea. That should have made his decision easier, but the question was whether he and Lucy thought it was a good idea. And in his mind, it probably wasn’t. He had looked after a child before and that was difficult enough even when the child idolised him. This case was different not only because Lucy was still unsure about him but because he now had the ability to get stressed. But his opinion wasn’t the most important one in this discussion, was it?
“I will not do it unless Lucy specifically asks me to do so.” He concluded, firmly.
Tharan grinned and stood up, stretching out the joints in his lanky, blue arms.
“Brilliant, commander. I appreciate your open-mindedness, and I have to admit that I feel a bit silly having not thought of that myself. I’ll make sure to ask her as soon as Dr Crusher says that she’s awake.”
He held out a hand and Data shooed Spot down to stand up and shake it. It was almost as though the counsellor was finalising a deal.
Spot meowed angrily as Data said goodbye and saw Tharan to the door. The cat was furious about being shooed off of his lap and was very loud in making sure he knew it. He waited until Tharan was gone before picking her up and carrying her to her bed in the corner.
“You need to behave when we have guests over, Spot.” He scolded, fully aware that it was useless to say so.
As he busied himself getting ready for his shift, he found that there was a lingering sense of anxiety and anticipation in his circuits that hadn’t been there before Tharan’s arrival. No matter how many tasks he tried to run at the same time, the feeling never wavered. Maybe restlessness was a symptom of his evolving emotions.

Chapter Text

Lucy awoke, groggy and afraid, to a cluster of blurred faces and loud voices. Something was wrong, that much was obvious, but she didn’t know what it was. A face surrounded by long ginger hair moved closer, blocking out the sharp light.
“You had us worried there, Lucy.” Said the woman, squeezing her shoulder gently.
The words barely reached her sluggish mind but after a few seconds she was able to piece them together. Something was wrong with her. She tried to sit up, but her body felt ten times heavier than it had that morning. Just trying to lift her head made her neck feel like it was going to snap under the weight of her skull.
“Just lie still, okay?”
It was though everyone was speaking underwater. Or maybe she was underwater, and they were on dry land. She was drowning, soaked to the skin but water wasn’t this thick. Water wasn’t this red. Panic set in as the grogginess drifted away; the bleeding had started. Her death had started.
“Where’s dad?” she asked, trying to shout but barely croaking. She didn’t know any of these people. Where was her dad? Why was one of the faces blue? Where was she?
“Tharan, stop standing there like a deer in headlights and fetch some towels from the replicator, would you?”
Why wasn’t she hurting? Everyone who had reached the bleeding had been in pain when they died so why wasn’t she? Was she dead already? The blue face bobbed away, melting into the incoherent distance.
“Where’s my dad? Can you get him?” she pleaded, “He’s working on the- the new fence by the barn. Can you get him?”
But before the woman could answer, everything became stippled over with black dots, the voices muffled into nonsensical whispers and her thoughts were cut short by an enveloping nothingness.


When Data entered sickbay, he was intrigued to find that it was almost empty. If Dr Crusher’s latest report was accurate, at least sixty percent of the humans on board were infected. Two of the nurses were even stood in the corner chatting as though the epidemic never existed at all. Tharan, seated on one of the empty beds facing the sickbay doors jumped up at the sight of his commander. His eyes were wide, and his face was a sickly grey-blue colour. Barely an hour ago, the counsellor had been energetically discussing chaperone options with him, full to the brim with a passion for his work that was usually only present in over-eager cadets. Now, Tharan approached him, eyes fixed on the floor, breathing in and out in a pattern that seemed to be a combination of both Andorian and human calming techniques. Red bloodstains were drying onto the cuffs of his sleeves.
“You’re here.” He stated, in a tone of voice that fell somewhere between relief and sadness.
“Are you alright, counsellor?”
Tharan snorted loudly and lifted up his arms so that the bloodied sleeves were inches from Data’s face.
“You see this? This is why I chose psychiatry, commander. I didn’t sign up for this.” He blurted bitterly, “I did not sign up for any of that.”
He pointed emphatically towards the isolation ward with a trembling finger.
“I am a counsellor. I- I don’t even- I’ve never- I mean I did the required first aid courses at the academy but that’s nothing- I- I really never thought I would have to see…”
His voice trailed off and he backed towards the bed, reaching for the mattress with both hands to steady himself. The poor man looked utterly drained. Data doubted he would get a half-coherent report from the man in this state and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly until Tharan looked up at him with a hint of awareness.
“I suggest you go back to your quarters and change your uniform, ensign.”
It took some time for the order to process but eventually, Tharan sighed and pushed himself up.
“Yes, sir.” He mumbled.
Data watched him closely as he left and once satisfied that he would make it back safely, returned to the real matter at hand; Lucy. Dr Crusher hadn’t gone into detail about what had happened when she’d contacted him a few minutes prior and all he knew at this point was Lucy had reached the terminal stage of the disease. After two point eight-five seconds enduring a thunderclap of fear and grief and shock, Data had switched off his emotion chip. At a time like this, professionalism and clear, uninterrupted thinking was paramount. His crew depended on him.
He walked briskly to the isolation ward, noting the way that nearby nurses and doctors were turning their heads his way. Someone smiled sympathetically and he nodded his acknowledgement of the gesture as he passed. By the time he reached the ward, there was a hand on his arm. The windows into the ward had been blacked out and he could see nothing in them but his own reflection. He turned towards the owner of the hand- an elderly human woman who often volunteered in the medbay most weekdays. She had come aboard the Enterprise with her grandson, who worked in the cargo bays. He hadn’t yet spoken to her but had occasionally seen her passing around refreshments to patients and changing bedsheets. Without knowing her, Data had come to admire her commitment to her community even in retirement.
Now, she was looking up at him with wide, watery eyes, her already wrinkled face bunched further up in an expression of shared grief. Since acquiring his emotion chip, Data had noticed that such moments of sympathy had become a lot more common. He chose not to tell her that he currently felt nothing and looked down at her questioningly.
“I know you have soft spot for the girl, Mr Data and I just want you to know that we’re all here for you.” Said the old lady, softly.
“Thank you.” Replied Data, mechanically.
At the tone of his voice, the woman’s eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing into his own.
“Just you make sure you’re there for her, young man.” She added, a touch of threat in her words.
She patted his arm reassuringly and returned to her seat by the replicator. As Data cycled the airlock, he could hear her ordering a pot of tea. It appeared that people had overestimated the relationship he had with Lucy. He cared about her of course but no more than his programming naturally demanded. And so far, while familiar with him, Lucy only seemed to tolerate him and his questions. What had happened to inflate the appearance of their relationship in the eyes of others?
The inner door cycled open, and Beverley looked up in his direction. She was sitting on a stool next to Lucy, writing something down on her PADD.
“She’s asleep now.” She said quietly, pocketing her PADD and walking over.
Lucy had been moved to an adjacent bed to her usual one for reasons made obvious by the presence of a nurse who was piling a clump of bloodied sheets and bandages into the medical replicator for dematerialisation. Something bad had happened here and Data was only there to witness the quiet aftermath.
“You called for me, doctor?” inquired Data.
Dr Crusher frowned disapprovingly at him and leaned against the blacked-out window. She was no doubt fatigued, both physically and emotionally.
“You’re her temporary guardian now, Data, by recommendation of the CMO.” She sighed, giving him a smile that was half-hearted at best.
“You do not have the authority to-“ Data started before being cut short by a hand in front of his face.
“Tharan does and I recommended you to him. I’m just passing on a message that I’m assuming Tharan forgot to relay to you. He said you’d already agreed.” She interrupted.
“I did.” Admitted Data, “However, I did so only under the condition that Lucy request that I fulfil that role.”
This time, Crusher’s smile was obvious but not the least bit sincere.
“The conditions have changed. Until, we find a cure, Lucy isn’t going to be able to answer any questions.” She explained, “You can still refuse until everything has been officialised but…”
Her voice trailed off.
“I do not refuse. Under the circumstances, it would be best to follow the recommendations of yourself and the counsellor.” said Data.
“I knew you wouldn’t.”
The room was silent for while but for the shuffling of the cleaning nurse and the beeps of various life support monitors. Data contemplated asking for the required forms that would need to be filled in before recognising that Dr Crusher needed that minute of quiet. He stood still and waited for her to speak next. When she finally did, she said something that he couldn’t have predicted.
“She was asking for you. When she was more lucid, she was anyway. For a lot of it, I don’t think she knew where she was but when she did understand what was going on, she started asking where you were. By the time I called you, she’d lost consciousness again.” She muttered.
Data didn’t know what to say. The information was unexpected, to say the least.
“I regret that I could not have arrived sooner.” He finally replied.
At that, Crusher turned to him and boldly prodded him in the chest.
“Turn your emotion chip back on.” She ordered, crossing her arms.
The nurse looked up from cleaning the floor, with barely concealed intrigue.
“How did you know that I had turned it off?” asked Data.
“A child was asking for you on what she believed to be her deathbed and the best you can come up with upon finding that out is ‘I regret that I could not have arrived sooner’. Data, how blunt do you want me to be?” retorted Crusher, tiredly.
“I think you should go to bed, doctor.” Said Data, “You seem to be sleep-deprived.”
Dr Crusher glared at him with her bloodshot eyes and moved past him to the airlock door.
“I am, thank you for noticing. I’ve been up all night with people breaking quarantine just to walk over to sickbay and tell me they think they’re infected and then right when I’ve got everyone to stop coming here unless they have anything more serious than a barely symptomatic rash, I get deal with one of my patients almost dying before I’ve even finished my breakfast. So, yes I am sleep-deprived but whether I am or not, I am completely rational when I say that you need to turn that emotion chip on, sit next to that little girl, hold her hand and feel enough for the both of you, do you understand me?”
Before Data could say anything in reply, she had already closed the door behind her. The nurse, who had been staring obliviously at the commotion, quickly turned back to the floor, grabbing a disinfectant tool from his pocket. Lucy didn’t even stir. Slowly, Data approached her and sat on the stool beside her bed. A bag of cloned blood hung beside her head, slowly dripping down towards her right arm. A hypospray, still set to deliver a paediatric dose of coagulants was on the table beside him. She couldn’t see him or hear him or feel him but according to human custom, none of that mattered when at the bedside of someone who was unconscious. And seeing as Lucy was human, it only made sense to follow said custom.
He took her left hand and enveloped it with his own. Her fingers were limp and even through the bandages felt cold and damp. Her blood-caked eyelashes flickered as her respiratory system was electronically stimulated to inhale.
“It is okay.” said Data, copying the words he most commonly heard from humans in this context, “Everything will be okay.”
He would do what human custom and sentiment asked of him, and uphold his new role as a temporary guardian, but unless circumstances changed, he would not turn his emotion chip back on. Statistically, the odds would not be in his favour in regards to his ability to function optimally if he turned it on. It was the most obvious and logical decision. The emotion chip needed to remain inactive until a cure was found.
“It is okay. Everything will be okay.” he repeated, dutifully.

Chapter Text

Lucy crouched down in the grass behind the meeting hall, moving softly so as not to disturb the patch of dry weeds near the rear window. She shouldn’t be here. Only those of the high caste could enter the meeting hall and ever since her father’s banishment from the leaders, she would never be given the opportunity to join the higher ranks of their society. Not that she cared. She was far more content looking after the animals and fields anyway.
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have cared about today’s meeting but for the fact that it was the first one her dad had been invited to since his demotion. She was only seven, but she was old enough to recognise the significance, and her curiosity had spurred her to attempt this crime. She needed to know what the leaders wanted from dad and even more than that, what dad wanted from them.
Cautiously, she peeked over the lip of the window. High Leader Jones was standing alone by the great table, shifting a stack of papers into position at the head seat. His back was turned to her so she couldn’t see his face but she could hear his aggravated sigh quite clearly. He ran his hands through his long, blonde hair, pulled his shoulders back and turned to the heavy wooden door that led into the meeting room.
“Enter!” he commanded, whatever frustration he was dealing with gone from his voice entirely.
Lucy ducked back down out of sight as the door creaked open and a dozen pairs of boots clunked on the floorboards. She heard chairs scraping and the shuffling of paper, the odd cough and grunt as the leaders made themselves comfortable. Her heart pounded with anticipation. What she was about to hear was forbidden to her ears and somehow that made everything so much more exciting.
“I have called today’s meeting to discuss a revised plan of action against the Red Plague.” Announced Jones, “Our current efforts are bearing no fruit, and I am open to considering the more drastic options that have been voiced previously. I still maintain that we will develop a natural immunity in time but with the reduction in our numbers, the possibility of not having enough hands to work the fields or animals to provide for us, I have no choice but to authorise the pursuit of a more immediate solution.”
Did that mean that this whole time, the leaders hadn’t been searching for a cure? Surely not. Lucy longed to look through the window and see the leaders’ faces but she knew that they’d spot her immediately if she did. She pressed up against the wall of the hall, breathing as quietly as possible.
“I could’ve told you that seven years ago, Jones.” Interrupted Healer Singh, boldly.
Lucy wondered what he was doing in the meeting. She’d had no idea he’d been invited as well. And why was he so angry with the High Leader?
“Are you questioning my judgement?”
“Yes, sir. I am. I have told you time and time again that this is not a normal pathogen. I have told you time and time again that we need to be working towards inoculation or cure, but you have refused every request from the Healer’s guild to open such a project. Now we’re two Healers down, and you’re only now suggesting that you’ll consider it.” Singh argued angrily, “Do you even hear yourself?”
There was a moment of silence. Singh had always been referred to as outspoken, but Lucy couldn’t believe that even he would talk to the High Leader that way. She expected that Jones would shout at him or throw him out after that- he would certainly be entitled to- but when he spoke, his voice was calm and unwavering.
“And I have told you time and time again, that researching an inoculation or cure goes against everything this colony stands for. It is technological advancement, whether you like it or not and that is slippery slope to destruction. I will not allow it.”
Dad’s voice cut across the room.
“You know it’s not as simple as that Michael.” He said, “By that logic, all medicine would be technological advancement. You’re being ridiculous.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming here and saying that after we so courteously invited you into this discussion.” Said Leader Lee.
“Are you even surprised?” scoffed Leader Heinlein, “The man was banished from this hall for a reason.”
“Yes- for speaking some damn sense!” hissed dad.
How could he talk to them like this? Her own father!
“According to your ‘sense’, you would have us announce our presence to the galaxy and destroy our entire purpose here.” Said Jones.
No way. Lucy’s eyes widened. No way her dad had said that.
“Oh, come on. That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think? I just suggested that we needed some outside help.”
“In other words, off-planet help. I don’t think I need to explain to anyone here how dangerous that would be.”
“More dangerous than the Red Plague?” Singh butted in, “Be realistic.”
“There are worse things than death, Healer.” Chided Leader Kaestner.
“Oh, for god’s sake, Marie, not this again.” Singh sighed.
Something banged loudly on the table and Lucy had to stifle a gasp.
“Can we get back on topic, please?” shouted Jones, impatiently.
The room fell silent.
“I understand that everyone is very stressed and very scared, but bickering is getting us nowhere. We are here to discuss solutions.”
“Well, what solutions are left if we can’t research a cure and we can’t get help?” Singh replied, bitterly.
“I believe Leader Kaestner had an idea, if you would just be quiet.” Snapped Jones.
A chair scuttled over the floorboards and Lucy could hear footsteps coming closer. A sheet of paper was unfolded, and Leader Kaestner cleared her throat grandly.
“Here, I have a list of every local species we have discovered on this planet.” She announced, smoothing the paper out on the table, “I’ve marked all of the ones we have discovered to be edible, medicinal and functional like so. And all of the species that are poisonous like this.”
There was a pause, presumably while everyone got a look at the list.
“There are one hundred and seventeen species on that list, and I think it’s about time we start experimenting with different ways to use them. Just because something is poisonous doesn’t mean it isn’t useful. I suggest we take several of our livestock and try out some different combinations and preparation methods until we find a cure. It’s a simple enough process that it won’t lead to technological advancement, but we may just get lucky.”
“Is this a joke?” spat Singh, “This is your brilliant plan? Throw shit at the wall until something sticks?”
A chair clattered to the floor and suddenly, Lucy could hear paper being ripped up. More chairs moved and someone shouted.
“I can’t believe any of you!” cried Singh, “And you, Jones- have you no shame at all? If you would let me build a microscope- if you let me research this- I could find a solution! You know this! Please, let me save us!”
“Amarjit, there’s no point.” Dad sighed, “Let’s just leave.”
“Yes! Please do! You’re behaving like children.” said Kaestner, venomously.
“Be quiet.” Jones interjected, “You’ll leave when I tell you to leave.”
“Don’t be petty, Michael. What’s the point of us being here if you won’t listen?” said dad.
“The point is that in the interest of goodwill, I am willing to make an agreement.”
The footsteps that had been moving away stopped.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m willing to allow the Healer’s guild to assist Kaestner’s project. There will be no building of specialised equipment, but I will permit the use of the scientific process and the guild’s experience. And in return for my permission, I want you to extinguish that little coup you’ve been planning.”
From the exclamations, Lucy knew that what Jones had just said was not only important but damning, but with no idea what a coup was, she had no idea of just how big the accusation was. Had her dad really been against the High Leader all along? Just the thought of it made her sick.
“Michael…” started dad, his voice barely audible.
Whatever he said next, Lucy didn’t want to know about it. She crawled away from the window, and as soon as she was out of earshot, ran straight for home.

When the quarantine was lifted, not even forty-eight hours after it had been enforced, it was not because a vaccine had been developed, but because every human on board had been infected. The atmosphere on the ship was tense and while Dr Crusher was adamant that she could find a cure, there was enough uncertainty going around to cause significant stress among the crew.
It was therefore not surprising that Ten Forward was packed to the brim. People were clustered around the tables and bar, some standing in groups or leaning against the wall. The bar staff moved hurriedly between the clumps of bodies carrying the usual trays of beer and cocktails, but Data noticed that the number of people ordering from Guinan’s reserved stock of non-syntheholic beverages was a lot higher than usual. Judging by the slurred conversations and unfocused eyes of the patrons, a good chunk of alpha shift would be turning up late for work the next morning.
“Hey, C’mander!” a young ensign shouted, slapping him on the shoulder as though they’d known each other for years, despite the fact that Data had literally never had a conversation with the man.
The ensign’s uniform jacket was tied around his waist and there was a dribble of what looked like vodka soaked into his undershirt. He was smiling and red faced and barely coordinated enough to stand upright. There was high possibility that the man had never been drunk before.
“You here to join the fun?” asked the ensign, holding up his glass of bloodwine and not even acknowledging the splash that sloshed out of the cup and onto his sleeve.
“Excuse me.” Said Data, moving past him to reach Geordi’s table.
“Hey!” complained the ensign, “You’re boring, man!”
Data squeezed past a clump of giggling women and two loudly kissing couples before he reached the bemused engineer.
“Welcome to bedlam.” Greeted Geordi, shaking his head at the scene, “There were a lot more people around earlier- you just missed the guy who drank a litre of Ferengi slug spirits on a dare. You ever seen neon green vomit before?”
“No. I have not.” Replied Data, taking a seat.
“Lucky you.”
Data noticed that unlike the rest of Guinan’s customers, Geordi was sticking to synthehol. Perhaps the sight of said neon green vomit had put him off joining the fun.
“Would it be advisable to request that Guinan cease the sale of alcohol this evening?” Data suggested.
A nearby Tellarite had just climbed up on to the table and was asking if any of the ‘pathetic dust voles’ in the vicinity wanted to arm wrestle. Data started to get up to deescalate the situation, but Geordi promptly pulled him back down.
“Let them have their fun, Data. If it gets out of hand, we can call security, but I think everyone just needs this chance to let off steam.”
“You believe that this will be beneficial to the crew?”
“In a sense.” Shrugged Geordi, “A few hours of forgetting about the real world can go a long way.”
“And yet you do not wish to partake in the communal inebriation.” Remarked Data.
“You can get away with this sort of thing when you’re an ensign fresh out of the academy but I’m long past those years.” Chuckled Geordi.
The engineer took sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair to stretch and yawn. Data speculated that he had been skipping sleep to work on counteracting the disruptive effects of the Red Fungus and considered reminding him of the importance of a regular sleep cycle, but he knew from past experience that his odds of success would be low enough to make the comment essentially redundant. Instead, he decided to get to the point of the conversation.
“Have you also noticed a change in behaviour among the crew when in my presence?” he asked.
Caught momentarily off guard, Geordi frowned and leaned against the table.
“Well, I don’t know. I guess people are a bit more…” he paused, searching for the right word, “Mindful of you.”
“As of today, I have had thirteen people ask about my wellbeing. I have shown no signs of damage, malfunction or distress; there is no reason for concern.”
The noise level in Ten Forward was rising as people gathered around the nearby arm wrestlers and if it were not for his superior hearing, Data might have missed Geordi’s tired sigh.
“Data, you know exactly why people are concerned. Lucy’s dying and whether you like it or not, you care about her and from what I’ve heard, she cares about you. And then all of a sudden, you turn your emotion chip off and refuse to turn it back on again. Can you really not see why that’s a problem?” explained Geordi.
A wave of applaud and whistles and yells of despair rose behind him; the Tellerite had won and was loudly proclaiming his brilliance.
“I cannot.” Replied Data, simply, “My ability to act with clarity and impartiality is of particular importance at this time. My emotion chip could affect my efficiency.”
“Not your emotion chip- your emotions.” Corrected Geordi, “You’re afraid you’ll lose control because you can’t stand the thought of Lucy dying.”
“I am not afraid of losing control. I cannot be afraid when my emotion chip is inactive.”
Geordi finished off the last of his drink and stood up.
“Look- maybe you don’t recognise it, but something is happening in that positronic net of yours. You come here for advice but you’re deflecting everything I say. I’ll give you another diagnostic in the morning, but will you listen to what everyone’s been saying and turn the damn thing back on? I think you’ll find you’ll have a lot more clarity than you have now.”
He pushed his chair back under the table.
“Goodnight, Data.” Said Geordi, patting him on the shoulder and turning to leave.
Data stayed seated, watching his friend leave and analysing their conversation closely. If Geordi was right, his positronic net was continuing to be altered even without his emotion chip being active. And it had all started once he brought Lucy aboard. Of course, correlation did not always mean causation, but the timing of it all was too coincidental to discount. He needed to find out what was going on and he needed to do it before his mind was altered beyond repair.

Chapter Text

Lucy always knew something was wrong when her dad got out his journal. When he got back from the meeting, he had stumbled into the house with tears streaming down his face- Lucy couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen him cry- and yanked open the drawer that contained his writing materials. She started to go to him to comfort him and ask what was wrong but then she realised that his tears were not due to sadness or grief, but raw, bitter anger. She stayed in the bedroom doorway, watching him slam the journal on the table and turn to the nearest page. Ink spilled from the pot as he pried off the lid, and he swore loudly.
“What happened?” asked Lucy, nervously.
He turned towards her, only just realising that she was there. His fury melted away into shame.
“I thought you were at Greta’s house.” He mumbled.
Lucy gasped when she saw his face. It was lumpy and purple, his right eye swollen shut and his nose crusted with dried blood. When he spoke, the words were muffled between his puffy lips, and she could see that at least two of his teeth were missing. Immediately, he hung his head and tried to cover the damage with the sleeve of his shirt, but Lucy ran towards him and tugged at his arm to see better. He pulled away from her, holding back his sobs, curling in on himself like a wounded animal. She had never, ever seen him like this. She was terrified and heartbroken and confused all at once.
“How…?” she whispered.
“I fell over.”
She knew he was lying, and she didn’t want to entertain the idea that he had a reason to lie. She hugged him close, burying her head in his chest and squeezed him until he hugged her back. His tears dripped onto her hair. When she finally pulled away from him, she was wiping away her own tears.
“I’ll get Healer Singh.” She said, running to the coat rack by the fireplace.
“No.”
She stopped halfway there.
“What are you on about, dad? You need help.”
“Lucy, no.” demanded dad, “We can’t see Healer Singh anymore.”
“Why?”
Dad sighed and scratched at the bloodied stubble along his jaw.
“We’re not allowed to.” He admitted.
“Why?”
“Just- let’s drop it now, love. It doesn’t matter.”
He pulled his journal towards him and picked up his pen as though nothing had happened.
“Could you get me a rag from the cupboard, love?” he asked, gesturing to the ink that was seeping into the table.
Lucy frowned, unsure what to do or how to feel. There were plenty of other Healers in the village, but she doubted dad would let any of them see him. Slowly, she walked to the linen cupboard, wondering what was going on to cause all of this. Had dad really betrayed Jones? And if he had, was it really bad enough to hurt him like this? Or was it worse than she could have imagined and had Jones gone easy on him in spite of that? Her heart was torn in two directions: towards her dad and towards her village. Both seemed to be threatening the other and she didn’t want to reach a point where she would have to pick sides.
She handed him the rag and then quietly retreated to their room to cry in peace. Dad didn’t even look up from his page.

When Data got back to his quarters, Spot was already fast asleep on the end of his bed. It was a habit that Data had been attempting to end for some months now, but so far, no training method seemed to have worked. This night, however, was different; once he turned his emotion chip back on, Data suspected that the stubborn cat’s presence would be very welcome.
He needed to know where this new ability to supress, ignore and delay his own thoughts and actions had come from, and he needed to know as soon as possible. The fact that it had been happening even with his emotion chip deactivated meant that it had to be something to do with his positronic net, but maybe Geordi was right to suggest that emotions might help clarify what was going on.
Not just emotions though- that wouldn’t provide the more detailed insight he needed. Whatever was wrong with his mind, the root of the problem lay in what appeared to be a rapidly evolving subconscious. And what better way to connect with his subconscious than to activate his dream sequence?
Spot barely stirred as he changed out of his uniform and into a more appropriate outfit for the occasion. He chose a set of classic, blue and white pyjamas but decided to forgo the matching slippers as he planned on getting into bed as soon as possible. He had considered partaking in a few human sleep rituals but such tasks as drinking herbal tea, having a warm bath or reading a calming novel would take up time that couldn’t be wasted.
When he pulled back the covers, Spot definitely did stir and with a melodramatic meow of distaste pointed in his direction.
“I must activate my dream program.” Explained Data, “I require my bed.”
By the time Data was under the covers, Spot had hopped off and sulked away to his armchair, tail raised high in indignation; so much for company. Data couldn’t predict the exact outcome of turning on his emotion chip, but under the circumstances, it was unlikely that Spot could be of much assistance anyway.
“Computer, lights off.”
In the dark, his eyes closed and his back flat as a board against the mattress, he reactivated his emotion chip. A millisecond passed between the emotional flood and the activation of his dream program. A millisecond of fear, confusion, self-pity, anger, helplessness, desperation, motivation, drive, sympathy, sadness. A millisecond of emotional agony. A millisecond full of a thousand microseconds- each one felt keenly and with the full, endless awareness of his efficient android mind.
By the time his dream program began, the corners of his eyes were shiny with golden tears.