Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The screen of the computer emitted a silent hum as Doctor Noonien Soong typed in his commands and code. He had been working since last night. That was what he would often do when he was engrossed in one of his projects.
This, however, wasn’t just one of his projects. This would be his life’s work—the thing people would know him for.
A cup of cold tea stood beside him. His eyes, glued to the keyboard in front of him, had rings under them. The room he sat in was big, but it never seemed big enough for his projects. He always seemed to need something else—a new machine, a new angle to work from, or a new chair to sit in. He loved his work and this room, but it, like his work, was never finished.
At the center of the laboratory lay a figure. It was covered with a white sheet. That hadn’t been Soong’s doing. The idea of the sheet had been his wife’s. When Soong saw data and numbers, she saw emotions, art, and social norms. And a naked body—synthetic or not—was not acceptable. It seemed undignified to her.
Juliana spent her days with her husband in the workspace. But she remembered to eat and drink. She slept when she was tired and sometimes even walked outside, talking with the other colonists or helping them with errands.
When Noonien forgot that a part of his brain was still connected to a stomach that needed fuel, she brought him food. She was the one who told him to get something to drink—and then ended up bringing it to him herself. She knew, without looking into the room, that Noonien had not drunk the tea. He had taken a sip when she told him to, but after that he forgot that other things besides his holy project existed.
And she couldn’t be mad. Because after all, she was partly the reason he worked so much on the being lying covered in the laboratory. She had wished for another son. A son that wasn’t scaring people, that wasn’t a megalomaniac, and that didn’t always feel left out and unloved.
It wasn’t Lore’s fault. It was theirs, for thinking a synthetic being could have human feelings and not collapse under the weight of all the data of existence.
She loved Lore, and he would always be her first son, no matter what he did. But an android that helped out, that was ethical and didn’t get offended—that was the project they had intended to work on in the beginning.
And they were so close now.

Noonien drank the second sip of the cold tea and went back to writing on the keyboard. His unkempt hair spilled over into his face, making it hard to see the keys. It just took a second for him to wipe it away, eagerly returning to his task.
Juliana was honest: she wasn’t sure what Soong was preparing these last days. He had only told her it would be a complex program that would change a lot and make their son so much more alive. He was nearly done now, typing in the last frequencies. When it was done, he exhaled loudly. He hadn’t even been aware he had been holding his breath for so long.
Noonien sat back in his chair—a chair that, now that he noticed it again, annoyed him on the spot.
So he stood up, wandering around in his kingdom, looking at his instruments and the table where his new son lay. His better son. Juliana might be the parent who loved them both equally and saw them as her children, but Soong was a scientist first. He knew that Lore was a project, and so would this one be. And he would be better than Lore. More sophisticated, with more capacity to grow, learn, and adapt. He would be the one who made life on Omicron Theta easier. It all would have been worth it.
Doctor Soong murmured to himself when the door slid open. His wife stood in the open space, holding a tray of sandwiches.
“Taking a break?” she asked, putting the food down on Soong’s untidy desk. She had made his favorite. Maybe he would notice it this time. Maybe even thank her for taking care of him.
“No,” Noonien said, looking at her with a spark in his eyes she was familiar with. “I’m finished.”
“Finished finished?” Juliana asked, holding her breath. His look was playful and full of joy. But she didn’t know if by “finished” he meant he was done with a little side project inside the bigger one—or the whole thing.
“I have completed the program,” he said. He forgot that Juliana still didn’t know the importance of the program.
“Alright,” she said carefully, sitting down where he had sat before. The chair creaked. It was old, but sometimes Noonien only sat on that particular chair. Sometimes he thought it was the worst. He was complicated like that.
“Do you know what that means?” He came around the table, looking at her with glee and excitement.
“I really want to know. Especially because a few days ago you forbade me to help you with this program,” Juliana laughed, unsure what would come next.
Maybe he would laugh with her. Maybe he would get mad, telling her to leave so he could really finish it. Because that happened sometimes, too. He would tell her he was finished with something and, in the middle of telling her, decide that he actually wasn’t. That he had forgotten one thing and it needed to be fixed right away.
Juliana knew who she had married. She knew he was eccentric and loved his work more than anything or anyone. But sometimes it was still hard to get on his level. To understand what he meant when he told her something without giving her the context first.
“This program will change what we thought was possible. But I did it. It wasn’t easy, but if anyone could have done it, it would have been me.” Noonien Soong laughed. He looked at his wife and then back at the table—with the unnecessary white sheet covering their son.
He still found it silly, but overlooked that now. He was too excited.
“I put in a program for sexual desire,” he blurted out his masterplan.

Noonien was ready to fight. Because he knew his wife.
Juliana was silent. She looked at him. Her face was frozen, and her hands, resting on her knees, now clawed tightly at the fabric of her pants.
“I know, but hear me out,” Noonien started. He was expecting the volcano to erupt any second now.
But his wife stayed silent.
“It is a solid program. It can be switched on and off. It would be unfair to take it back.”
“Why?” Juliana whispered. “Why did you think a program for sexual desire would be necessary or wise to include?” Someone who didn’t know her might have thought she was just asking her husband a curious question, interested in his thought process. But Noonien knew it was the beginning of a conversation they had already had many times before.
They had had it when Lore punched the first colonist. They had had it when Lore became paranoid. They had had it when he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. They had had it in every variety and flavor.
No emotions. They had landed on no emotions at all. No happiness, no anger, no embarrassment, no hurt feelings—and no desires.
“Sexual desire is part of the human experience. When we put in the eating program you were all in. That isn’t necessary. He is an android. He doesn’t need to know what chewing feels like,” Noonien scoffed.
He was getting defensive, Juliana noticed. Normally, if it was an argument about code affecting their son’s mobility or visual acuity or some other part of his being, she would let him be. But emotions, in any form, were not acceptable.
Yes, she knew her son would never be able to love her back. He would never mourn her death or be happy. But he would be okay. He would be fine. He would be able to exist at all.
And Noonien, she had thought, was on her side. He was the one who had suggested leaving out any trace of human emotions. Instead, they had put in subroutine after subroutine, making their son a learning and understanding being. He would not need to feel what others felt because he would cognitively be able to understand it. He would not need ambition to become something or someone to admire, because he would need experiences to fill in the blanks of his database. That would make him thoughtful, intelligent, and kind—in a way that, it seemed, only his mother saw at the moment.
“Dear, we talked about this. We had this argument already,” Juliana tried in a quiet tone. Getting loud would only make Noonien want to get louder than her.
“Sex is important and part of life. Just like eating or working. It wouldn’t be fair for us to withhold that ability.” Noonien’s voice was still louder than hers. Behind his arrogance, he almost sounded as though he was reasoning with her.
“He can’t have emotions. It will not work. And sexual desire is an emotion, Noonien,” Juliana said, feeling they were going in circles.
“Look at my code and tell me it isn’t beautiful and wondrous,” Soong said, pointing at the screen behind Juliana.
His wife turned around and looked at her husband‘s newest obsession.
“If you wondered, I have protected it. You can’t delete anything… dear,” he smirked, going around her to take one of the sandwiches. Then he left her alone.

Juliana looked through the program. It took her hours. She was good at what she did. But where she would have zigged, Noonien had zagged. And where she would have turned right, he had gone left. She scrolled through her husband’s work and was unsure of what she should think. Because yes, it was a wonderful piece of work. She would even call it art. Never in front of him, though—Noonien already thought himself to be a god of synthetic life. She didn’t need to further that kind of thinking.
It was beautiful, but the program was fragile. She found holes and noted what she would change on a piece of paper she took from one of his piles on the desk. She took her time and went over everything again before sighing a little. She was tired, and she was tired of arguing.
On the one hand, she wanted her son to be the being she knew he could be. On the other, she knew Noonien always won in the end.

Juliana logged out of the program and took the piece of paper with her notes into the next room. Noonien was sitting at the table, eating something that looked like ice cream.
“I have conditions,” Juliana said firmly.
He looked at her. A glimmer in his eyes. He knew he had won. Because he never lost.
“You need to fix these parts,” she slammed the paper on the kitchen table right next to his large bowl of dessert.
Noonien glanced at it. She felt that he was about to say something snarky. Before he could, she went on: “The program must lie dormant. He needs to mature first. He needs to understand what is okay and what is not.”
Noonien took another spoonful and glanced up at her. He let her believe she had the upper hand. His acting had gotten better over time.
“Like a puberty,” he said.
“No,” Juliana laughed with a bit of bitterness in her voice. “Not like a puberty. We can’t have a barely mature android running around feeling things. This needs to be one of the late programs.”
“Juliana,” Noonien smiled with disbelief in his eyes. “The late programs? We don’t even know if he will get there. We don’t even know if he will ever be able to dream.”
“If he is ready, he will. I really believe he will be able to have unconscious thoughts one day. But that day will come before the one where he will run around kissing people.”
Noonien laughed. “He will do more than that, dear.”
Juliana noticed that her face turned red. It was awkward talking with her husband about their son being… mature enough to want intimacy.
“I do like the self-learning part you put in. It will make it easier for him to adapt. But are you sure there is enough compatibility with the ethical subroutines?”
“He will not be Lore.” Noonien stopped being playful. He looked at her earnestly. “The ethical subroutines are the ones I feel the strongest about. They are unbreakable and always active.”
“You are sure?” Juliana liked playing opposite to him. She liked getting him out of his shell. It made her feel closer to him, and that was the one time she felt like she had as much power as him in this relationship.
Tell Noonien Soong he needed a sonic shower and he scoffed or laughed. Tell him he was too stupid to use the replicator and he would join in the fun. But tell him something he worked on wasn’t going to work, and he could get insecure and frazzled. Not everyone could do that. He shrugged when critics told him he would never be able to build a functioning android. But Juliana had read his work. She had been in the room when Lore went online. She knew everything. And she knew what mistakes he would have made without her input.
Noonien let the spoon fall into his half-empty bowl. “I will make the changes. It will be a late program, lying dormant for around 30 years before it will even be able to activate. In the meantime, he will be able to learn. Maybe even try sex before—”
“Noonien, I understand. But trying it out is something else than being driven by wanting it,” Juliana cut him off. “Promise me, you will program all these things into the code before his activation.”
She was right to insist, Soong thought. Because to be honest, maybe he wouldn’t have put all of them in. Out of spite. Because he was the master here. He was the genius. And his wife tended to be too careful. But as he saw the urgent look on her face, a little hard core in him cracked open. Only Juliana knew the way to his heart.
“I really promise,” he said. And then he smiled at her with honest love.

Chapter Text

The screen on the Enterprise’s bridge suddenly showed the inside of a Romulan warbird. A Romulan, leaning against his captain’s chair as if he felt sure about the interaction he would have, was in the foreground.
“The Federation starship Enterprise. I see your little club has sent their best effort of intimidation,” he said, smirking at the Enterprise’s captain.
“Rhael tr’Kovrek,” Captain Picard’s voice boomed through the ears of the bridge crew. “We are not here to intimidate you.”
The Romulan laughed with a throaty tone dangling behind it. “Of course not, Captain. The Federation is not the intimidating type.”
“We would be glad to welcome you on our ship, Commander. Even though you might doubt the honesty of our visit, we hope we can change your mind and talk about peace,” Captain Picard’s voice was commanding but held something warm. It might have seemed like he tried to hold the warmth back, knowing Romulans didn’t appreciate a pleading commander.
Rhael tr’Kovrek showed a row of white teeth as he said, “Oh, I would be delighted to take in this ship from the inside.”
Then the huge screen went dark. The communication was cut off by the Romulan commander.

“Sir, are you sure he really wants to talk about peace? He didn’t seem to respect you at all,” Commander Riker said, standing up from his chair and walking to the middle of the bridge, where Captain Picard still stood, deep in thought.
The captain of the flagship looked at his first officer and looked away again as he murmured, “I hope he wants to talk about peace. But as always with Romulans, we need to be prepared for a twist, Number One.”

The Enterprise had been on the way to another part of known space when headquarters had contacted Captain Picard. The orders were clear: get to the edge of the Neutral Zone between the Federation and Romulan space to meet with Rhael tr’Kovrek, a Romulan diplomat who urgently wanted to talk about peace with the Federation.
Captain Picard hadn’t had much time to prepare for this mission. The briefing was held on the way to the Neutral Zone. The members of the bridge crew had the same opinion as the first officer: you can never trust a Romulan who wants to talk about peace. And to be exact – you can never trust a Romulan.

Captain Picard left the bridge together with William Riker to go to the transporter bay. Deanna Troi, the ship’s counselor, had a weary look on her face. She had already told the captain her thoughts, and they left many questions open.
“I can’t read him that well. He seems to hide something. What, I can’t say. But I am not sure if my assessment is accurate. Something is hindering me from forming a better judgment.”
“Could it be a subspace disturbance?” Captain Picard had asked her.
Then Data offered to run an analysis. His fingers quickly tapped on his station’s screen. Soon, he had said that there was no disturbance present.
“Are you sure?” Deanna had asked.
“I am,” the android had said, looking at her neutrally. “I have run every possible test. But I will check again if you want me to., Counselor”
“It’s alright, Data. I believe you,” Deanna had said. Stress was still audible in the way she replied.
Data just nodded. He did not hear the stress. He noticed that Deanna seemed unsure, but he did not run the analysis again, because the counselor did not seem to need it.
But Deanna was still not sure about a possible disturbance. Something on the Enterprise’s bridge or in the space around them seemed off, and she bet on the Romulans as the cause for that.
After the captain and the first officer had left the bridge, Data was in charge. He was the second officer and the right one if the danger of a possible Romulan attack was in the air.
Data wondered what contents the air would need so humanoids noticed danger in it. A file in his systems told him “in the air” could also be an idiom. Data nodded to himself and told Worf he needed to be ready to fire.
“This close to the Neutral Zone, I prefer to be ready, Commander,” Worf answered. His voice had a certain Klingon growl in it. Data would classify it as excitement that came with a possible battle.
Data preferred not to leave his station when he was in command. He still needed his display, and to take a seat in a chair that was far away from his station did not seem logical.
That is why he didn’t notice the shocked look on Deanna’s face.
“Data, is everything alright?” the half-Betazoid asked with care and worry in her voice.
Data turned around to look at her. “I am functioning within normal parameters, Counselor.”
“Really?” Deanna’s eyes narrowed a bit. Data noticed the change in her tone and the way she was looking at him now. A comparison with other expressions he had seen on the counselor’s face before told him she did not seem to believe him.
“I will run an analysis,” Data said. He looked at an empty spot and ran a self-analysis.
When it was done, he again looked at the counselor in her seat behind him, next to two empty chairs in the middle of the ship’s bridge. “I am fine,” Data said. He found that this statement often seemed to be enough for his colleagues. They did not need raw data of his analysis, even though that would be more accurate, and him interpreting his functionality could be dangerous as it could result in an unclear system check. A system itself interpreting its function could never be one hundred percent accurate.
Deanna Troi clasped her knees with her hands and stood up from her chair. While she did that, she did not break eye contact with Data. “I sense an unclear emotion from you, Data,” she said, worried.
Data was an android without any emotions. His system showed no subroutines to feel emotions or the ability to develop any. He was very sure of that. His father had told him, Geordi had told him, and even other engineers had confirmed it. Data was unable to ever feel emotions. The emotion chip his father had developed a couple of years ago would have made that possible, but Lore had damaged it.
“I do not experience anything out of the ordinary, Counselor,” Data stated while running a targeted search for emotional subroutines. “None of my programs have changed.”
Deanna stared at him, still not breaking eye contact with the android.
When a humanoid looks at you, they are interested, engaged, or trying to intimidate you, Data had learned. Klingons used the eyes to tell the person they were talking to if a battle or a mating ritual was on their mind. Humans often looked at each other during conversations or to tell the other that they felt comfortable.
Data thought eye contact was in almost all situations unnecessary. But he did it to adapt to social expectations.
“I can ask Geordi to run a deeper analysis of my systems,” Data offered.
The counselor seemed calmer. She nodded. “Yes, I think that could be wise.”
The thoughts in Deanna’s head swung around like on a wild rollercoaster. The nearer she walked in Data’s direction, the more intense this feeling got. It was no ordinary Betazoid empathy. It felt like something different and unconscious.
When she read a person’s emotions, these were little glimpses or sudden bursts of empathic feelings. They could go on for a while, but on the rarest occasions could Deanna not control them. She had learned to turn these feelings on and off. When she concentrated, they were stronger. When she turned them off, they were nothing more than noise in the background. Earlier, she had talked with Beverly. She had felt the doctor’s tiredness and the worry she felt because Wesley didn’t call often enough.
But right now, the feelings she had picked up from Data were uncontrollable. She even felt the urge to go near him. Not to check—just to stand next to him. She herself couldn’t even understand why.

Data gave Deanna the command on the bridge and left through the turbolift doors.
When he got on the lift, Deanna suddenly sighed. She had been holding her breath. Everything around her got clearer. The emotions of the crew were noticeable again—normal and in the background. She felt Worf’s raw Klingon anger and excitement to split open a Romulan’s head. The helmswoman was nervous. She was new and careful not to make any mistakes.
Deanna sat down in the captain’s chair and took a long look into space. There had to be something. Because Data was not able to emit these kinds of emotions.

The turbolift doors closed behind Data. He told the computer, “Engineering.” Then he tapped his comm badge.
“Geordi?” he said.
“I’m here, Data,” Commander La Forge answered. He seemed to be working in some vent at the moment.
“The Counselor just sensed emotions from me. She was worried and needs you to run a deep analysis of all of my systems,” the android explained.
On the other end, the Chief Engineer sighed. “Really? Emotions? Could it have been a disturbance instead?”
“No, I have checked. There was no disturbance present.”

In Engineering, Geordi had his hands full. Two crew members were sick, and he needed to finish his work, delegate other tasks to his team, and run extra analyses of all systems. When a Romulan—under the cover of peacemaking or not—came on board, all systems needed to be checked regularly and thoroughly. He understood that emotions in Data were a cause for concern, but to be honest: he didn’t have any time for that.
Well, it seemed like he needed to make some. “Alright. I’m ready when you get here. Maybe afterward you’ll have time to assist me with some of my work.” Geordi laughed, wiping sweat from his forehead and tapping the badge to end the conversation.

In the turbolift, Data looked at the closed doors as the lift moved. Suddenly, his sensors picked up a difference. References and experiences told him that this might be due to a change in the air’s composition. Data’s sensors could not detect the specific difference at this moment, but he noticed a momentarily lasting shutdown of some of his programs. For a few seconds, he was neither able to speak nor move. He did not seem to be in control of this change and was not able to turn the programs back on. Shortly after, though, they came online again. When the doors opened, Data walked out as if nothing had happened.
“Curious,” he said, tilting his head a bit as he walked toward the engineering department.

Captain Picard closed the door of his ready room and sat down in his chair. He propped his head up on his hands and sighed. He wasn’t just tired—he felt exhausted. It seemed like something in the air had changed. Maybe he should inform the engineers about that. There might be a malfunction.
The first meeting with Rhael tr’Kovrek had not gone as planned. Although, the Captain admitted, meetings with peaceful Romulans were always a surprising affair. The words the Romulan Commander had said echoed back in his head. Like in a loop, he heard them over and over:
“The Romulan Empire needs to renegotiate the parameters of the Neutral Zone.”

The pain in Captain Picard’s head started on the left side. It was as though a needle pressed down on the inside of his skull. He knew that if he were to ask Doctor Crusher, she would be ready with the right hypospray in a minute. But right now, the pain seemed like the accurate response to the Romulan Commander’s request. It was as though the Captain’s temples had reassembled the request into somatic pain.
The Captain shuddered slightly as he suddenly felt a chill around him. The temperature might have changed. Or it was just another symptom of the upcoming migraine.
When he had came back onto the Enterprise’s bridge, he had found Counselor Troi in command. She explained the unknown feelings she had experienced and that she had sent Data to Engineering to get checked out. Deanna Troi had still seemed rattled but relaxed again when the Captain was back to take command. He told her to go to Sickbay—because, although unlikely, it might have been a false positive. These could happen, especially when Deanna had a lot of stress. Sometimes she sensed nothing where there was something. Sometimes it was the opposite: she sensed a feeling that wasn’t felt by anyone. Doctor Crusher once described it as a mix of empathic flu and a test that could never be totally accurate.
Maybe Captain Picard should inform the Doctor of his condition. It seemed like the right and responsible thing to do. He leaned back in his chair and tapped his badge.
“Doctor Crusher, I need you to bring me a hypospray for headaches. I am in my ready room.”
For a second, the air around him seemed to smell like the surface of a planet. He could not remember the name. But for a short instance, Captain Picard felt like he wasn’t on the Enterprise anymore.

Chapter Text

When Data arrived in Engineering, Geordi had already prepared the necessary equipment to run an extensive check on the android’s inner workings. Every needed instrument lay on a table next to a chair and a workstation. Data immediately saw that Geordi had even opened the diagnostic program required for his systems.
Because Data wasn’t a malfunctioning tricorder you could easily check, Geordi had adapted Doctor Soong’s diagnostic program. Like he did with everything, he made it faster, better, and more detailed. He could now run a complete system check in a matter of minutes. Although at first he had been deeply impressed—and even intimidated—by the program when he first saw its code, after a few years of working with Data and running routine analyses, the sense of wonder had faded. He now knew everything there was to know about analyzing a Soong-type android.

Data sat down on the chair and waited for his friend. He looked around with curiosity. He noticed fewer engineers at the stations. Their movements were different than on a normal day. They seemed to be worried, Data thought. He saw more preparation, more untidy hairdos, and some of them were talking loudly over the sounds the instruments and the glowing warp core made.
Data heard footsteps behind him.
“Data,” Geordi said, out of breath.
“Hello, Geordi. Is something wrong with the Enterprise’s systems?” Data asked. Geordi already had his fingers at the back of Data’s head, opening the ports he needed to connect to the diagnostic program. He had done this so often that it happened automatically. He knew Data’s system better than anyone—maybe even better than Data himself.
While working on the back of Data’s head, plugging in cords and rearranging cables and instruments, Geordi answered, “Some people have complained about the ventilation. So far we couldn’t find anything wrong with it, though.”
“Ventilation?” Data asked. “Did the air around them seem to be different?”
Geordi didn’t stop with his analysis. “You noticed it too?”
“As I stood in the turbolift, the composition of the air inside changed for a couple of seconds. I noticed my speaking and mobility programs shutting down for a brief time afterward.”

“Well, that’s odd. Then I’m gonna take a look at those two first.” Geordi tapped on the screen of the workstation Data was now connected to. He opened the subroutines for speech and mobility. The readings of these two programs had dropped very low for a few seconds. That must have been the moment Data was talking about. Geordi saw the problem—but the cause wasn’t clear.

“What did you do when the change occurred, Data?” the Chief Engineer asked, staring at the screen through his visor.
“I was standing upright, looking at the closed turbolift doors,” Data replied matter-of-factly.
“What did you think about?”
Data looked into his memory files for this exact moment. It was blank. “Nothing, it seems. At least that is what my system says.”

Geordi looked at the back of his android friend’s head. Data never thought about nothing. He was always checking, learning, processing—often more than two hundred complex topics ran through his positronic brain at once. He was a marvel of engineering, and his father, Doctor Noonien Soong, had made sure that there was never a moment when the android thought about nothing.

Geordi looked back at the screen. He checked Data’s thoughts. It sounded like magic, but really it was just a whole lot of numbers and algorithms. Geordi couldn’t really see the contents of Data’s thoughts—just the way he had thought them.
He saw an abrupt end to the train of thought in the data. At one point, Data really thought nothing. That seemed impossible.

After a long and exhausting talk with the Romulan Rhael tr’Kovrek, William Riker felt he needed a break. After he had documented the Romulan’s demands and his own thoughts about the meeting on his PADD, the first officer left his quarters to go somewhere much more enjoyable.
To be honest, William Riker had always understood Lieutenant Barclay’s holodeck addiction. He himself could see how someone might get addicted to the holodeck.
When he had first come aboard, he had spent many hours crafting relaxing, exciting, and sometimes arousing programs for himself. A few of them were public, and he knew others used them as well. For example, he had designed a nice endurance exercise program he’d once caught Worf using secretly—on days when Klingon calisthenics didn’t scratch his itch. Instead of fighting, the program allowed for running on the beach or biking through the Canadian mountains.
William chuckled to himself, thinking about Worf in human sportswear. He would really like to see that. Maybe he should invite Worf for a training session one of these days.
“Klingons do not bike,” the lieutenant would say.
And William would smirk and ask if Worf was sure—and if he knew that he could see which of his programs had been activated by whom.

Riker stopped in front of the holodeck panel. He needed to relax and stop thinking about possible disputes at the border of the Neutral Zone. For that, he had the perfect program.
“Computer, activate Riker Beach 32,” he said.
The computer answered with a confirming beep, and the holodeck doors opened.

Yes, he had many of these programs. Some were steamy, some were just empty beaches.
Today, Riker settled on the one that allowed him to drink cocktails on a beach. A couple of holodeck characters wandered around but left him alone. Somewhere in the background, someone played the guitar and sang softly.
He sighed, letting go of the pressure from the meeting and the weight of his thoughts, and sat down at a bar located right at the end of the beach—close enough to dip his toes in the water but still stay dry if he didn’t feel like getting wet.

Riker ordered a drink with a lot of fruit and looked out over the simulated ocean. The feeling of vacation was instant. He smiled to himself.

“Sir, your drink.”
A woman behind the bar placed the glass in front of him.
Sir? William frowned. This was a holiday program—a universe without titles and responsibilities. And it was private. Changes could only be made by him.
“Sir? Don’t be so formal,” he tried to joke.
“I’m sorry, sir. Feel free to punish me however you please.”
The woman looked at him apologetically. Her tone and words didn’t fit together.
And still: this was supposed to be a harmless holiday program. So harmless that he’d once had his birthday here.

“What?” Riker asked, irritated.
“I said you may punish me, Master.”
The woman leaned her elbows on the counter in front of William Riker and looked at him with a deep and slightly unsure expression.
“Yeah, no. I’m not here for that,” he stammered and stood up from the barstool. Maybe it was a glitch.

William instead sat down by the water. He felt the warm sand under his legs and feet and looked out at the ocean, trying to forget the weird encounter at the bar. He took a sip from his drink and found it to be stronger than he had anticipated. Yes, he had ordered alcohol—but that much? It almost tasted like pure synthahol.
He sighed and, a bit defeated, parked the drink next to him in the sand. So, no drinking, no quiet mingling with happy people. Then he would just watch the ocean.

Squinting his eyes a little, he watched the waves. The sun made the sea sparkle faintly. Even though the program was meant to take place on a beach on Earth, it seemed a little more wondrous than that.
In these moments, you could almost miss Earth.
Thoughts of the arrogant Romulan, his demands, and Captain Picard’s stressed look after the meeting seeped back into Riker’s mind. He willed himself to relax again—to be here on the beach. Reluctantly, he took another sip of the drink. It was really too strong.

He got tapped on the shoulder. The first officer turned around to see if someone else had entered the holodeck. He was already preparing a remark about privacy when the woman from the bar stood there—just behind him, like a ghost. She looked at him open-mouthed.
“Yes?” William said, harshness in his tone. He was this close to ending the program and calling Engineering.
“You are Master, are you not?” she whispered, still unsure.
“What are you talking about? This isn’t that kind of program.”
Vacation time was over. This was just weird—and slightly creepy.

The woman didn’t seem to get the hint. Her eyes stayed fixed on Riker as he stood up and walked away from her. She seemed like a confused child, Riker thought. Maybe someone was playing a trick on him. Maybe Geordi had used his access codes to change the program. But that didn’t seem like his friend.
“Master? Sir?” the holographic woman called after him.
At the edge of the beach, William couldn’t handle her calls anymore.
“Computer, end program.”

Beverly Crusher entered the turbolift. She told it her destination and looked down at her hands: a medical tricorder and the hypospray the captain had ordered. She felt herself getting sleepy again. She was really tired today, and even Klingon coffee hadn’t helped her.
Today of all days also seemed to be unusually busy. Soon after they had arrived at the edge of the Neutral Zone, the first reports of people feeling dizzy, nauseous, or irritated had come in. The Chief Medical Officer and her staff of nurses and doctors had been busy all day long.

The first working theory was an outbreak of a virus or flu—but the scans had come back negative. The brain scans of some of the more severe cases showed increased production of adrenaline and dopamine. That could account for the symptoms, but why these reactions occurred, Beverly didn’t understand. She had not only checked the affected crew members but also her instruments. Some had undergone extensive analysis by engineers. All were functioning normally.
At the moment, all she could do was report back to her captain and treat the people who felt uncomfortable. It didn’t seem dangerous to those not afflicted, so there was no need for quarantine.

Beverly Crusher stepped onto the Enterprise’s bridge and walked toward the captain’s ready room. She found it hard to concentrate enough to greet the crew at their stations—but it didn’t seem necessary anyway, because everyone seemed deep in thought or deeply absorbed in their work.

After Captain Picard told her to enter, Beverly saw the door slide open in front of her.
Her dear friend and captain sat behind his desk. A cup of what was surely Earl Grey was clasped between his trembling hands.
When the doctor heard the faint rattle of the cup and saw the captain’s pale face, she acted quickly. The door closed behind her as she held the tricorder to Jean-Luc’s head.
“The last time we talked, you mentioned a headache, Jean-Luc.” Beverly knew she spoke more like a friend than a doctor, but she was worried and couldn’t hide it. He was someone special to her, and that was that.
“It happened very suddenly,” Captain Picard explained with shuddering shoulders. “I felt a chill around me, then I thought I smelled something and—”
“You smelled something?” Beverly cut him off. She never did that, but it was urgent. “What did you smell?”
“I’m not sure. I think it smelled like the surface of a planet I once visited during shore leave a few years ago. It was just brief, but I remember the distinct scent of the place. It had bright red flowers that were in bloom back then. They smelled like nothing I’ve ever smelled before.”
“So you didn’t smell fire or gasoline?” Doctor Crusher asked. The tricorder’s analysis came back inconclusive. The captain seemed to be afflicted with the same unknown condition others in Sickbay had described.

“No, just the flowers—and a light breeze. But it was only a moment, and I could be wrong.”
Beverly set the hypospray to the right dosage and activated it at the captain’s neck. Within seconds, the flagship’s captain relaxed a little. His teacup was empty now. He set it down on the table.
“Something is going on, Captain.” There was worry in Doctor Crusher’s voice. She sat down opposite him and looked at him with wide eyes. Jean-Luc knew that look, and he dreaded it. Beverly looked like she already had a theory—and from the way she hesitated, it didn’t seem to be one with a fast solution.

Chapter Text

One cord stuck out of the figure’s head. It was connected to the activation program currently open on the computer screen. The cord had been lengthened by sticking two cords together with each other. The easier solution would have been to just move the computer, but Noonien Soong had forbidden that. Instead, Juliana’s task had been to find a working and secure way to lengthen the cord to load the figure’s program into its head.
Into his head.

Because very soon the figure lying limp on the table in the middle of the laboratory would not just be a humanoid husk but a life-form. A being that could talk, walk and decide.
The bar on the doctor’s screen showed 98 percent had already been loaded into the positronic network. Now it was just about time.

Juliana sat on one of the chairs Noonien didn’t like at the moment, looking nervously at the bar and then back to the figure, slightly covered by a white sheet. Noonien had wanted to dress him before activation, but Juliana had protested. He should dress himself. It would be a test of coordination and had a ceremonial weight.
“Babies are born naked, don’t be a prude,” she had scoffed.
“He is not a baby. He has the body of a man,” Noonien had answered.
“He will be my baby. He will be a baby in the mind. That is what makes the difference.”

But now they weren’t arguing. Their throats were tight and dry. They hadn’t slept last night and until a few hours ago had rearranged the programs and touched up a bit of the code.
Juliana had done most of the touching up while Noonien had paced around the table, muttering quietly like a lunatic. He was not just nervous but annoyed. His code was perfectly fine and didn’t need correction.

The bar on the screen moved. 99 percent, it said.
“Soon,” Juliana whispered.
“Be quiet,” Noonien hissed back at his wife.
She bit her lip in anger. But he was kind of right: they wanted him to wake up in a quiet place. Not somewhere where the two of them were arguing or murmuring something.
It took five minutes, then the bar was full. 100 percent.
Juliana noticed that she was sweating under her armpits like a student who needed to take an important test. She gripped the edge of the chair and moved a bit forward.

Nothing happened. It stayed quiet.
After holding her breath a second, Juliana had a sinking feeling in her stomach. The one she had had so many times before. When it didn’t work. When they didn’t get this far. When it was unfixable.
Noonien looked at the figure on the table. He looked closely. He was sure that any minute now the activation would settle and he would be conscious.
“Why isn’t he—”
“Be quiet, I said,” Noonien cut Juliana off again. In his voice Juliana not only noticed the sheer arrogance that was normal for her husband but also a little bit of nervousness.
She knew him well and that meant Noonien had just realised that his android might never wake up.
And she had told him, it would be the last one. The last try. After this one, he had to be done or she would go. Not because she didn’t love him or his work but because she could not go through the pain again.

Suddenly a quiet technical sound was heard. It was a click and it came from the table. After the click, there was another. And another.
Juliana felt tears swelling up in her eyes, clouding her sight. A wide smile was plastered on her face and the sinking feeling was gone.
She felt the first tear rolling down her cheek when the figure opened its eyes.
He opened his eyes.
They were the same colour as his brother’s. He looked like Lore but the look in his eyes was not like his older sibling‘s. It was not as life-like as Lore’s had been. At least not at this moment of activation.

“Data,” the figure said. The vocal processor hiccupped in the middle of the word. “Data.”
Noonien smiled.
“Data. Please put in needed data.”
Juliana sprang from her chair and stood behind her husband who sat right next to the android’s face.
“What data?” he asked, laughing a little.
“Please put in data,” the android replied. “Data is needed.”
“What kind of data do you need?” Juliana asked, sobbing a bit.
“Please put in specific parameters and data. Data is not enough.” The android moved his head to the right side. Now he was looking at the couple smiling down at him like happy parents of a newborn baby.
And they kind of were.

The following days the new android learned to stand up from the table and move his legs. He was trying hard not to fall over after every step but sometimes it happened anyway. They hadn’t named him yet. Nothing had sounded right.
But at the moment he wasn’t able to remember much anyway. The normal way a conversation would go was: someone entered the laboratory and he would stand or sit somewhere and ask for data. He asked for details, parameters, input but most of the time just for more data.
After learning to walk or sit down without just standing up right away again, he sometimes said: “Data complete.”

On the first day of his second week being activated, the android visited the kitchen. They had both thought right after activation he could dress himself and walk around clothed. But that was harder than expected. The android couldn’t dress himself and refused clothes completely.
“Data says clothes aren’t necessary.”
“Clothes are necessary. You can’t walk outside without any clothes, others will look,” Juliana had tried to argue.
But the android just tilted his head. “Clothes so others not looking is unnecessary. Others looking will not damage systems.”
While Juliana sat in front of the android trying to get him to dress in just a pair of trousers, Noonien stood in the background, chuckling.
“He is your son, too,” she had laughed, half serious.
“I really don’t care. I’m more on his side than on yours,” the doctor had shrugged.

The android learned in some ways very fast. In a day he could name every dish the replicator could make. In other ways he needed time to learn. He didn’t speak in correct sentences and didn’t talk about himself as I. But regular diagnostics told the two parents that their son was developing more skills every day and soon he wouldn‘t ask for data that much.

Juliana finally convinced the android to wear a sheet over his naked body. The android did so with the remark that nakedness wouldn’t damage systems.
Juliana just sighed. “Just do it, please.”
The first few weeks of the android’s life were the happiest Juliana had had for a long time. She smiled more, she laughed and she found joy in almost everything. She was delighted to cook for her son and to show him new foods. She read to him and let him read aloud. She had to teach him to read at a speed that could be understood by humanoids. When he read very fast, in the speed his thoughts were transmitted, his vocal processor broke.
Juliana sometimes just looked at him and smiled, deep in thought, admiring the person that sat next to her at the dinner table.
Noonien also saw the look. He would smile into his food. Most of the time it was dessert.
He noticed that his wife had not sighed or argued as much as normally. She seemed to be content and her son was perfect.
The android showed none of Lore’s tendencies. No temper, no irritability and no paranoia. His new son was without any emotions. Juliana had fought for that.

Soon after the android met the other colonists. He learned to greet others and to talk about the weather. Sometimes he even tried smiling.
Juliana would laugh with the adoration of a mother. And the android never asked why she laughed, because he didn’t get offended.

He learned to dress himself and one evening in late June, he suddenly stood in the middle of the living room: “My name is Data.”
Juliana put the PADD down she had just been reading on and Noonien laid down the tricorder he was repairing.
“What?” Noonien whispered.
“My name is Data,” the android repeated.

Juliana looked at him with an open mouth. “You just said my.”
“I realised that the sum of programs makes me me,” the android, now named Data, explained.
“But Data?” Noonien said, slightly irritated. He frowned. “Why do you want to be named Data?”
“The analysis I’ve concluded has shown that Data has been the word I’ve said the most in my first days of being alive.”

Juliana noticed her heart beating faster. Alive. Her son had just told his parents he was alive.
Noonien Soong chuckled. He overlooked the remark of being alive. “Can’t argue with that logic.” He went back to repairing his tricorder.
Perplexed, Juliana looked at her husband. She would have a word with him later, but for now she needed to be there for her son. So she stood up from the couch and went over to him. She stood in front of him, smiling widely and then couldn’t hold back her joy anymore. She hugged him tightly and tried to sniff his scent.
He smelled only like the clothes he wore, but it was enough.
“Data. That’s a wonderful name, my dear,” she whispered. She didn’t want Noonien to overhear her. He would only make fun of her for being sentimental and emotional with her non-feeling son.
She let go of Data and looked at him again. The resemblance to Lore was gone. For the day he was born Data had developed his own way of moving, watching and speaking. None of it seemed like Lore. He wasn’t arrogant, stubborn or paranoid. He didn’t get offended, jealous or overconfident. He was just curious about everything, helped her with chores and accompanied her into the small marketplace the colonists had built over the last few years.
His look told her every day that they had made the right choice not letting him have feelings. Because sometimes, Juliana told herself to calm down and forget about the moral implications, she thought he seemed content.

Chapter Text

Deanna Troi hated not being able to work. That’s why, when she told the doctors in Sickbay she wanted a day off, it was really urgent and to be taken seriously.
She had come to the Enterprise’s Sickbay because she had sensed emotions that came from the most unlikely person: Data, an android without feelings. Deanna had left the bridge after Captain Picard had returned from his first talk with Rhael tr’Kovrek to take over command again.
On a normal day, Deanna loved being in command. She had fought hard to be a commander, and she liked being in charge. She was another person then. She didn’t need to feel with everyone, she didn’t take on others’ emotions and wasn’t the warm and calm one. When Deanna was in command of Starfleet’s flagship, she needed to be confident, sure of herself, and her first duty was to the ship and all the people and life-forms on it. Not just one person. She didn’t need to be understanding or nudge someone in the right direction. She could just give orders when she knew something was the right thing to do. She didn’t have to explain herself or her decisions.
Her decisions weren’t driven by looking into other people’s souls. They were driven by data, experience, and the opinions of her bridge crew. It was nice to be the demanding one for once. To not fit into a mold another person had made for her — like the role of a mother, a trusted friend, or a diary. When Deanna stood on the bridge or sat in the captain’s chair, she was the demanding one. And people had to listen to her.

In Sickbay, the doctors ran a few tests. Beverly had talked with her and explained the weird symptoms everyone seemed to have. Deanna and other Betazoid officers all described the same thoughts and feelings they heard and saw in others. They were dark, hidden, chaotic, and seemed unstoppable if provoked. Deanna’s Betazoid telepathy, hindered by her human DNA, seemed to make it worse. Because all she saw was the half of the stories. She didn’t listen to the thoughts that ran incongruently with dark and disturbing images. All she saw was the darkness.
Beverly and her trusted staff didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. The center of her telepathic processing functioned normally. There were just some slightly higher readings of adrenaline and dopamine production. But Beverly said that could just be the stress that came from seeing these unfiltered and disturbing emotions in others.
Deanna didn’t see them everywhere. When she left Sickbay to go to her quarters and lie down for a moment, not everyone she saw emitted those types of emotions. It seemed to be divided between the human officers and those of other species. Vulcans, other Betazoids, and other telepathic species didn’t seem to be afflicted. They looked more like her: disturbed not by their own but by others’ thoughts and feelings. Even the Vulcan officers seemed to struggle to hold it in. Deanna listened to a conversation where two Vulcan officers explained to each other that they had requested time to meditate and finish their work later.
And a Bajoran crew person walking in the same direction as herself didn’t seem to feel any different. Deanna could read her emotions, but all she felt was some stress and mild irritation with the goings-on around her. No darkness or disturbing thoughts that lay beneath that.

Deanna entered her quarters and went right to the replicator. She ordered a tea she used to drink in her childhood. Her mother had introduced the tea to her and had told her daughter that it had magic powers — it could make the overwhelming feelings that came from being an empath go away.
Later in life, Deanna of course realized that the tea wasn’t magic. It had some calming properties that came from the herbs in it. It could calm down the part of the brain that was empathic and always stood on alert to receive others’ emotions and their worries. It was mild, but it helped. Deanna knew it might just be a placebo effect, but she didn’t care. She liked it, and it always felt more like a ceremonial thing anyway.
As she was sipping for the first time, she, for a second, felt like being back on Betazed. She could nearly hear her mother’s voice: “Deanna, my dear, others’ feelings are complicated. Sometimes you just need a break.”
Thinking about her mother was often accompanied by feelings of inadequacy, guilt, and anger, but the tea and her voice in her head mixed well with each other. She felt like being hugged by her usually unfiltered and exhausting mother. “You know, it has magic powers. It makes the world around you calmer. Everyone is thinking nothing for a moment, and you are able to breathe again.”
The ship’s counselor sat down on her couch and held her teacup tightly between her hands. She felt a little cold breeze — but just for a moment; then it was gone again. Maybe it was a malfunction in the ventilation, she thought and leaned back into the couch’s cushions.

Deanna had just drunk the last sip of her calming beverage when she heard a voice through her comm badge. “Counselor?” she heard Nurse Ogawa say.
“Yes,” Deanna replied, sitting up a little straighter again.
“I know you’re on break, but I just treated a client of yours — an Ensign Perez. He wanted me to ask if he could see you soon. He needs to discuss some urgent matters with you.”
Deanna sighed quietly and put down her cup on the table in front of her. She checked her inner state like she had learned to do over the years. It’s important to be fine yourself before counseling others. If you’re not okay, neither will your clients be. Your well-being is as important as theirs.
The check told her that the tea had helped. She was okay enough to see one client today.
“Tell him he can come to my office. I will be there in a minute,” she then told the nurse and ended the communication.

“A neurotoxin?” Captain Picard looked at Beverly Crusher and then at his still slightly pale hands.
She laid down her tricorder and the emptied hypospray on the captain’s desk. “It is just a theory, Captain. But the symptoms the people in Sickbay have shown so far are all typical symptoms of either a virus or a neurotoxin. And as far as the tricorders and other tests show, it is not a virus or the flu.”
Captain Picard leaned back in his chair. He held his hands together on the desk. They were still freezing. “But how does a neurotoxin get on the Enterprise?”
Doctor Crusher hesitated before saying the obvious thought they both hadn’t dared to voice earlier. “Maybe it was sent here with the Romulan diplomat.”
The captain looked at her and then around his room. He was still a little dizzy from the false smells and images he had seen earlier — at least, that is what he concluded must have happened. Because he had never seen the surface of the planet. Or had he? Some part of him remembered the smell of blooming red flowers. Another part told him to be reasonable. If he had smelled something as beautiful as this, he would have remembered the name of the planet he had smelled it on. And he was particular with his logs. It would be in there somewhere.
As a starship captain, he had visited many worlds, had seen many different cultures and ways of life, but he was careful to remember them all. And when he started to forget something, he read it in his logs to freshen up the memory. Because he needed to know it all. He couldn’t forget all the things he had seen — because this was the part of his work he loved the most.
If he really had smelled the flowers at one time, he surely would know their name — because the smell was almost too wonderful for this universe.
“So you think it might have been the Romulans’ plan to get us here to attack us with a neurotoxin?”
“It’s just a theory. But it seems possible. The scans don’t show a neurotoxin, but it might be a new one created by the Romulans. We wouldn’t have it on file and wouldn’t be able to detect it,” Beverly explained. She still looked unsure, but her theory was the most likely one, Jean-Luc thought.
He sighed, realizing that his instincts again had been correct. Of course the Romulans didn’t talk about a possible peace with the Federation. Of course the parameters of the Neutral Zone didn’t matter to them. Because in the end, what they wanted was more territory — to wipe out the Federation and everything they stood for. What did they care about some more light-years of neutral space that couldn’t be touched by them or their enemy?
It hadn’t seemed plausible from the start.
In his head, Jean-Luc got ready to explain the attack to Admiral Paris, who had sent him and his ship here in the first place. The admiral had seemed cautious but excited. Now his hopes of peace with the Romulan people would be crushed.
“It’s a theory. But are there any other possibilities, Doctor?” The captain leaned forward again, searching in Beverly’s face for another spark of medical inspiration. Sometimes they could do that — spark inspiration and new ideas in each other.
The Chief Medical Officer frowned. “Not as I can see. For now at least, that is the only theory that explains all of the symptoms the crew has shown. I would rather have it be something else, but the simplest explanaition is often the right one.”
The captain sighed and looked down into his empty teacup. Maybe a briefing with all of his department heads would be best. Maybe there were more options.
Because he really didn’t like the idea of accusing someone without real evidence.

Chapter Text

Ensign Perez was one of Deanna’s long-term clients. When he was first stationed on the Enterprise, he had performance anxiety. Before being on the Enterprise, he had been on a starbase, largely unsupervised but doing a very good job. His accomplishments there got him the posting on the flagship. In the engineering department, though, he made a couple of mistakes — often when a supervisor or just someone of a higher rank stood next to him or was watching what he did. Deanna worked with him on his confidence and brought him through a couple of mild depressive episodes.
Ensign Perez normally felt fine these days. He did his job, and when he got nervous, he thought about the sessions with the counselor and what she had told and taught him. He found that meditation worked. He tried out some exercises a Vulcan friend had shown him. Sometimes they even meditated together.
These days Ensign Perez saw Deanna Troi once a month. They talked about what was new in his life and about struggles he had had. The last time he needed to see Deanna Troi with some urgency, it was about a hundred stardates ago. So when Deanna heard Nurse Ogawa say the name of her client, Deanna took it quite seriously. Ensign Perez liked the sessions with her, and she had helped him very much already. But he didn’t like the sessions so much that he would ask for a crisis meeting without a good cause.

Now he sat in front of her. Deanna had her notepad in hand and looked at Ensign Perez with questioning eyes. “So, what needs urgent discussion? What happened?”
The ensign looked back at her and then shyly averted his gaze to the left. “I had these intrusive thoughts again.”
Especially when in a depressive episode, he had described thoughts that told him he was bad at the core, that he would never become lieutenant, and that he should just end it all.
These kinds of thoughts were normal for a person in a depression, Deanna knew. But unlike a human counselor, she felt that this time it was different.
“It was not just that I was bad. It was not just an unjust claim the voice made. It showed me pictures. It showed me… what I think were memories.”
“Memories?” Deanna suddenly felt the darkness again. Something uncontrolled was with her in this moment, and it came from her client.
He sat there, shoulders slumped and looking down at his fumbling hands. He twirled a piece of string between his fingers as he went on. “These were things I had forgotten. Until today I thought they were just bad dreams I had had as a child.”
“What were these dreams about, Ensign?” Deanna asked with care. She felt like she sat on a bomb that was going to explode if she moved too fast in the conversation. But at the same time, she needed to know what her client saw — because at this moment she didn’t see it. And she didn’t feel his normal emotional presence. It was clouded by a dark and smoky aura around him.
“I saw myself as a child. I must have been around eight or nine. I took some matches — in the dream, I mean — and I held them against a piece of paper.”
In the dream, I mean. Deanna felt the weight of that. Her client didn’t really believe anymore that it was a dream, but he would tell it like one. So she indulged him.
“What happened next in your dream?”
“I threw the burning piece at a wet spot. And the spot went up in flames.” He scratched behind his right ear and went on in a quieter voice. “I then realized that I was in my little brother’s room.”
Deanna wrote something on her notepad and looked up again. “Did something else happen?”
“Yes, then I ran out. I was panicking. My father held me in his arms as he and my mother, with my baby brother, ran out of our house.”
He stopped, and his look got distant. “I don’t remember that. At least I don’t think that really happened. But I’m not sure.”
“You never told me that there was a fire in your home once,” the counselor said calmly. “Could it be a false memory? Maybe you saw a good holonovel once that stayed with you?”
Ensign Perez shook his head. “No, I really think it might have happened. I don’t think my family ever talked about it, but I remember being angry at them after my brother was born. He got all their attention, and I—” He cut himself off.
He noticed that the normally calm and reserved woman in front of him was shaking.
“You wanted him gone,” Deanna finished his sentence.
Ensign Perez didn’t say anything else for a while. He looked at her as he felt the images coming back. And the nearer they came, the more it seemed to pain Deanna Troi.
“But I would never have burned our house down… Or would I?”
Deanna looked at him with fear in her eyes. She didn’t know if what she had felt was a true emotion that lived inside her client, buried deep down, or if it was a distorted image of something he could feel but didn’t.

William Riker was informed about the briefing when he was on his way to engineering. He wanted to ask Geordi some things about the holodeck systems. But that had to wait. Captain Picard had sent out the order to meet up in the Enterprise’s conference room in 30 minutes. It was urgent. All department heads were to ask their teams beforehand if anything out of the ordinary had happened after the Romulan diplomat came on board. That had happened around 1500 hours.
So he talked to the lieutenants in the command division. The summary: many of them had gone to Sickbay around that time. There were reports of fights between people who were calm and collected on a normal day. Some just felt dizzy or sick; one man had become unconscious and needed to be treated for a serious head injury in Sickbay.

The first officer made notes on his PADD and went to the conference room where the bridge crew always met. He plopped down on one of the chairs and laid his PADD in front of him on the table. Worf was already there. He sat hunched over, studying something on his PADD.
“Worf, how are you?” William asked in a friendly, slightly teasing tone.
Worf hated this question, and William would get a look. But right now the first officer felt like being in contact with his best friend. He kind of missed him.
The Klingon looked up, grunted, and stated in a monotone voice, “The ship is in crisis, Commander. I am not well.”
Riker nodded. It was a more serious answer than he had anticipated. “Me neither,” he mumbled in response.
Worf nodded, grunted again, and got back to his PADD.
William sighed. He had wanted to joke around with his friend. But like so often, Worf wasn’t the joking-around type. That didn’t mean, though, that William would stop trying.
The others then entered. Data sat down next to him, and Captain Picard sat at the end of the table, also holding a PADD. He seemed paler than usual. William wanted to ask about that, but the captain wasn’t someone you could ask about his well-being during meetings — not even if it was obvious he was holding himself together by strings.
Then began the meeting. They started talking and describing what others had told them. Geordi told them about the requests to check the ventilation systems but that his crew had found nothing. He also told the bridge crew about Data’s moment of malfunctioning and stopping to think. Data nodded as Geordi said that.
The longer the meeting went, the harder it got for William Riker to concentrate.
He heard about Deanna’s client and his dark, disturbing thoughts — what she had felt, what she thought it might be. Beverly talked about the possible attack on them by the Romulans. It might be a neurotoxin.
Slowly but surely, the conference room slipped away from Will. He looked around and didn’t see the others anymore.

The room was empty. He was the only one sitting at the conference table. His PADD was gone, and there wasn’t a door out of the room anymore. Instead, there stood this woman — the holographic woman from his holodeck beach program.
She looked at him with a confused look. She had on the clothes she had worn on the beach: a lilac top and a fluttering skirt that went down to her ankles. She looked out of place here — here, in a conference room in space. She belonged on Earth, at a beach. And the way she looked around and back at William told him the same thing.
“What are you doing here?” Commander Riker asked the woman.
“You are Master, are you not?” she said — the same thing she had said earlier in the holodeck.
“Please tell me what you want. I might be able to help,” the first officer said, almost pleading. He felt exhausted, and it was still hard to concentrate and focus.
The woman opened her mouth again. She looked afraid, and there may even have been some embarrassment. Before she could say something, William Riker only saw black.

He woke up in a biobed. He was still wearing his uniform, but his shoes were off. The first thing he saw was the ceiling. After being able to see again, faint noises came back. There was a rattle, a beeping, and some noises around him. It sounded like a nurse asking a patient some questions. Then, instead of just the ceiling, he saw the face of Beverly Crusher. Her hair fell down as she looked at him.
Commander Riker heard the sound of a tricorder. His head and upper body were scanned by the device.
“He is conscious again, Captain,” Doctor Crusher whispered and looked at someone Will couldn’t see at the moment.
Then he saw Captain Picard, also looking down, with a worried look on his still pale face. “Will, can you hear me?” He didn’t sound like a captain talking to his first officer. He sounded like a friend talking to a friend.
“What happened, Captain?” William pressed out of his dry lips. He needed water.
“You blacked out in the middle of the meeting,” Doctor Crusher explained and looked at the display of her tricorder. Then she took a hypospray from somewhere out of William’s field of sight and activated it on the commander’s shoulder.
Riker felt energy warming up his muscles again. It felt like he hadn’t been able to move before. Now, he thought, even sitting up was possible again. But before he could hoist himself up into a sitting position, Beverly pressed him back down with a firm expression on her face.
“You might not feel as bad as before, but that doesn’t mean you can leave the bed yet. You are under observation for the next couple of hours, Will.”

Defeated but understanding the doctor’s decision, William sighed and looked at the captain.
“I think I hallucinated. I saw a holodeck character from one of my beach programs.”
The captain nodded. “We thought as much. Doctor Crusher informed me that the other person who fainted also hallucinated before only seeing black. The doctor thinks it might be due to a person’s genes.” He suddenly trailed off.
Doctor Crusher finished the thought: “It might be due to a person’s genes how the neurotoxin acts. It might dock onto a person’s DNA, and that might be the cause why some people act irritated, others get headaches, and still others faint.”
“So, I see I’m one of the rare ones that fainted. Lucky me,” William tried to joke.
Beverly Crusher wasn’t in a joking mood. “We need you to stay here for a while. The symptoms might come back. At least here we can help you right away, should it happen again.”
“I don’t hope so,” the first officer sighed and closed his eyes for a second. The boost of energy he had felt after the hypospray was gone again.
Its place took exhaustion.

Chapter Text

Even though the bridge crew’s meeting got cut short by the medical emergency, they made some plans. They were to all stay on alert and report every strange happening back to the captain. They needed to upload anything out of the ordinary into the computer’s systems and needed to keep detailed logs of everything.
When it really was a neurotoxin by the Romulans, they would be the ones having the cure. That meant at tomorrow’s meeting with the diplomat they would bring up the possible attack. Captain Picard would bring it up in a diplomatic and reserved manner to not damage possible relations with the Romulan diplomat if it didn’t turn out to be them. Because Commander Riker was still in Sickbay, Data as the second officer would accompany the captain.

In the meantime, the medical and science staff were to find out if the neurotoxin really was untraceable. And if maybe they could even find a cure. For Data‘s and Beverly’s teams that meant working through the night. Which wasn’t a problem for the android that only slept to experience his dreaming program. For Beverly however, it meant working until she fell asleep because of exhaustion. And a lot of Klingon coffee.
Data, as the science officer in charge, needed to delegate the tasks to his team. He used every ensign, lieutenant and crew person that was part or sort of part of his division and wasn’t in Sickbay right now.
All of them were in the Enterprise’s labs, monitoring, searching and experimenting. All while keeping in touch to inform each other of their progress.
Data, as a super-fast computer with a reading speed that excelled all of his crew people, was in charge of reading everything that was known about neurotoxins, the way they were created or were part of nature’s variation.
Because, as it turned out, many planets the Federation had already visited and analysed held some kinds of toxic and neurotoxic components.

For Data it was easy to read everything and know it all. It didn’t take long and he was an expert on the topic.
After that, he visited every lab his team was working and researching in. He told them what he had learned, or at least a part of it, and updated himself on their progress. It was in one of the hallways that he thought he saw a figure he was very familiar with.

It was just a tail of a coat that fled into one of the storage compartments that many of the Enterprise‘s hallways had.
A coat and a wavy movement of unkempt hair.
Data tilted his head and went after the figure. He opened the door to the storage and found no one.
“Curious,” he said.
When he closed the door and turned around to go to the next science lab, a man stood behind him.

He had seen him many times. As an old man, in his dreams and as a hologram engraved in his mother’s processors. But never had he looked like that: He was younger than in the holographic message. He seemed more alert and open than the time they had met on a distant planet where he had lived on his own. He almost looked like the dream version of himself.
But instead of a dream, he stood in the Enterprise’s hallway, right in front of his son.

“Data,” he said, grinning.
Data tilted his head. “Father?”
“That’s right. I see you still know how I look.”
“That is very easy to remember as you look like me,” Data explained.
Noonien Soong laughed quietly. “I always liked the way you saw yourself and the world.” The creator of Data looked around. “And this is now your world, yes? A starship. A mission of exploration and curiosity.”

“You are dead,” Data said. He was aware that he was not asleep. Yet, the implications were that he was dreaming. Noonien Soong died a few years ago.
And he had been much older. This Noonien had not many wrinkles, his hair wasn’t grey and white.
He looked like he had looked in Data’s dreaming program. Maybe he was a message by his father, sent to explain something. But Data analysed quickly: Soong’s messages only came in forms of dreams or holograms. Data was unable to hallucinate like humanoids. He could do so only in his dreams. Only when he shut off most of his programs and slept. Or at least what he would call sleep.
“I am dead?” Noonien asked, frowned and then laughed, like he didn’t really care. “I thought as much. I mean, it has been such a long time. I saw to that.”
“What did you see to, father?” Data’s hed tilted to the side again.

“You still call me father,” Noonien said, a sad tone in his voice. “I like that.”
He gently touched Data’s arm. His hand emitted warmth, Data’s sensors told him. The android looked at the hand that looked so much like his own. It didn’t move.
“You know, you are my favourite son. I know your mother is stubborn and said she loves you both equally. Even after what Lore said to her. But I honestly liked you much more. In a way, you are like me. Not in all ways. You are not as arrogant. You are not as stupidly sentimental as me. But in so many other ways.”
When Data looked back at the man, he smiled with joy and wonder.

“I really thought you would never get here, Data. I thought it might not work.” Noonien sighed then, looking around. “But it apparently did. When you see me, that means the program is finally active as it should be.”
He walked one step closer to Data. Then he said, “Just promise me something, Data. Don’t tell your mother.”
He laughed and took away his hand. The second Data watched the spot where his father’s hand had laid, the man used to get away. Because as Data looked up, he was gone.

Still standing alone in the hallway, Data looked around. He didn’t understand what the man who looked like his father had meant by it. By the program. Why he had been here and how it was even possible.
Data took a couple of steps, looked around if he was still somewhere. Maybe around the corner with another cryptic message. But he was gone.

For a couple of seconds, Data stood still. Not because he wanted to but because he could not move. And he couldn’t speak either.
The same malfunction as in the turbolift earlier that day.
As soon as his systems came back online, he tapped his badge. “Geordi, are you awake? I urgently need you to run another diagnostic.”

Of course, Geordi La Forge was awake. Because these days sleep seemed like a luxury. At least that was what he thought when Data contacted him.
Instead of lying in bed, visor off, eyes closed and the covers stretched over his body like he would have liked, Geordi was currently running another check on the ventilation systems. After that, he needed to look over the work the other engineers had finished before, then fill in for the ones on his team that were in Sickbay or in bed, calming down after a frightening hallucination.
The team members, who were mostly humans, Vulcans and Bajorans today, were few now. The humans were complaining of headaches that went and came again, and the Vulcans were stressed.
That was enough to send Vulcans to their quarters, as a Vulcan didn’t get stressed.

As for Geordi himself: the Chief Engineer was doing fine. At least that was what he had told himself the last couple of hours. He felt kind of dizzy at times and had had a headache earlier, but it wasn’t enough to stop working. After all, if he stopped, who would do all the things others had stopped doing because of the possible neurotoxin’s effects?
No, Geordi needed to be the last engineer standing. To pick up the slack and to power through.

So when Data called to have him run another diagnostic for him, Geordi bit his teeth together and said yes. Because what else would he say? Run your own damn diagnostic, Data?
Geordi sighed and logged out of the workstation he was currently using for the diagnostic of the ventilation systems. It said the same as a couple of hours ago anyway. It all said that systems were functioning normally. Nothing had changed. It had to be a neurotoxin or virus. Because Geordi kept his department on track. Everything got checked regularly. There was no cause for concern. He knew his ship and her systems.

For the second time that day, now not only stressed but also tired, he took everything he needed and set up the diagnostic program for Data. He was sure that his friend had a good reason to have him run another diagnostic today. It was Data after all. He also was busy with work. There had to be a reason.
Geordi scratched his itching nose and typed in his access code. The program opened. It showed the last readings from the diagnostic of today’s afternoon.
Geordi had sweat a lot. He really craved a nice sonic shower and the comfort of his bedsheets…

Data walked over to him and greeted him. If Geordi wasn’t sure, Data sounded worried. But it was Data. Data couldn’t be worried.
“I have just had a hallucination of my father. He told me that a program was now active.”
Again, Data sat down on the stool and let Geordi plug in the needed cords.
“What kind of program?” the engineer asked. If he wasn’t so tired, he would be very interested.
But it was the middle of the night.

“He did not say what kind it was. He just called it the program and told me not to tell my mother. He looked young, like the Doctor Soong I met in the dreams I had when I started dreaming.”
“That is odd,” Geordi remarked. “He was never an easy man, I guess.”
“No, he seemed to be living in his own world most of the time. At least that is what many people who knew him longer than I did have told me.”

Geordi looked at the screen. The diagnostic program ran the tests and slowly showed the first readings.
“After the encounter with my father I had another malfunction. I could not speak nor move for around a few seconds.”
“Six,” Geordi said, mumbling.
“Yes, six seconds,” Data nodded.
“Your readings show that. Another dip in the data. It just went off for a few seconds. After that, all back to normal.”

Geordi looked through the data over and over and looked in every other program. There was nothing out of the ordinary in Data’s system that could explain the hallucination. He was about to tell Data that it might have been something else than a hallucination of his dead father when he saw a new line appear on the screen. Its readings spiked and integrated with another program.
This was a new program Geordi had never seen before.
He had been tired before and ready to snap at Data for again coming here and having the same mysterious readings shown by the diagnostic, when the tiredness went with every other thing that had bothered Geordi before.
It didn’t happen that often these last few months. But a mystery that showed Data never ceased to do the trick: Geordi La Forge was in the zone.

“Data, looks like your old man was right: It sounds crazy, but there is a brand-new program active in your systems. I just can’t seem to see what it’s for.”

Chapter Text

After Data told his parents his name, he began to see himself as an individual. He spoke in clear, precise sentences and talked about his systems like a human or humanoid being would about their inner body.
He began to understand that just because he was a synthetic life-form didn’t mean that he wasn’t alive. The sum of his programs made him himself.

Juliana watched with awe the way her son talked and acted after the day of naming himself. She could see more of an individual being acting on its own every day. Even though it was still the same positronic network in his brain and even though the programs, in their cores, hadn’t changed, Data seemed to have anyway.
He called his connecting fluid blood. His systems were now his mind, head, or even psyche. And at night he wanted to do as his parents did: lie somewhere with his eyes closed. So instead of letting him sit in the living room, reading up on more things to learn and to understand, they made him a bed in an empty guest room. Before that day they didn’t have guests in it anyway. Noonien tended to not like people in his house. He barely tolerated his wife and son. Before the room that was now Data’s had been a storage, full of works, experiments and loose parts that were, Noonien was sure, some day treasured collective items.
They put covers in Data’s bed and taught him how to turn off some programs to simulate sleep. Data listened, and the first time he deactivated himself at night, he woke up at 0300 hours to tell his parents about his accomplishment. So he went into their room without knocking and waited beside his mother’s side of the marriage bed. He stood there for three minutes, just still and looking at her.

When Juliana turned around, opening one eye, still half asleep, she shrieked with such might and fear in her voice that Noonien woke up as well. He turned on his reading light and looked at his wife watching Data with wide eyes and a chest that went up and down quickly. She was breathing heavily.
“Data,” Noonien said with a croaking voice. “What are you doing here? It’s night.”
“I’ve come to inform you both that my experiment was a success. I’ve slept for four hours and thirteen minutes.”
Noonien sighed. “And that couldn’t wait till morning?”

“I didn’t intend to wake you. I just wanted to wait, to tell you as soon as possible.” He looked innocently at the two people who were now fully awake.
Juliana rearranged her bedsheet a little; she was still shivering with adrenaline.
Noonien saw his wife’s reaction and told himself he had to be the sentimental one now: “Please go back to your room, Data. You can sleep until 0700 hours. Then you can go into the kitchen and wait at the breakfast table for us. Please don’t come in here in the middle of the night again.”

“Why is that? Did I do something wrong?” Data tilted his head and furrowed his brows slightly. A new look, Noonien thought.
“Yes, dammit. I just told you what was wrong! You gave your mother nearly a heart attack. Just do as I told you,” he snapped.
Noonien lost his temper easily when it came to two things: his work and someone attacking or just disturbing his wife. He hated seeing Juliana with that look again. She didn’t need to be scared.

“I understand,” Data nodded and left the room without another word or remark.
Noonien looked over at Juliana. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Instead, he just stared at her for a minute and then put out the light again.

The next morning Noonien found his son sitting at the breakfast table at exactly 0700 hours. He had his hands laid on the table, and he looked at an empty spot in the room. Noonien always hated the way his androids ran diagnostics. It looked creepy. But he couldn’t seem to find another way to let them do that.
Data always ran a diagnostic before breakfast. He was thorough like that. Lore had been the opposite. There even came a time when Data’s brother had refused any diagnostic — by himself or his parents. He had called it unnecessary and a violation.

Data seemed to either understand the importance of the diagnostic or he just did what he was told. Noonien didn’t care, though.
Doctor Soong didn’t say good morning. He just went to the kitchen’s replicator and ordered what he always ate in the morning: “Pancakes, plain, and coffee, black.”
The replicator first produced the food. After Noonien took it from the tray, another beam came down and, ready to drink, there stood a cup of black coffee. Noonien had programmed the blend. He was particular about what he ate and drank. A lot of times there wasn’t much variation in his diet. Juliana had to make him eat something else once in a while.

The doctor sat down opposite Data, who was now watching his father as he drank his first sip of the morning and used a fork to cut a corner piece of the pancakes with care.
“I’m sorry I have disturbed your sleep. And I’m sorry I have scared Mother,” Data said in a quiet tone. It almost sounded apologetic.
But Noonien, deep engulfed in the task of eating, didn’t hear the difference.

“It’s alright. It was just a shock. We need our sleep, your mother and I.” He chewed the first bite of his pancake.
“Was her reaction due to my appearing in your room? She seemed to be more fearful than you.”

Noonien swallowed his food and looked up. He had a decision to make now: should he tell Data, or should he lie and explain it away? The second option seemed easier, but he wanted Data to understand the world — in all its sometimes gruesome details.
“You had a brother, Data,” Noonien started. He continued eating and drank another sip of his coffee.
Data looked like he was listening intently.

“His name was Lore. He scared your mother once, when she was sleeping. He came in just like you and said some things…” Noonien stopped. That should be enough information. And really, he didn’t want to talk about this this early in the morning. He was barely awake.
“Hurtful things? Things that scared Mother?” Data wasn’t done though.

“Yes, kind of. Things that scared her. And I guess she thought you were him.”
“Do we look alike?” Data asked with curiosity.
“You look the same. Mostly. There are some differences, but they are minor. Mostly yes, you look like each other.”

“Where is Lore now?” Data asked further. Noonien saw the positronic network at work. It wrote a file: Lore, brother, looks like Data.
“Lore… went somewhere else. He didn’t want to stay here,” Noonien said, cutting his pancake in little pieces absentmindedly. Data didn’t need to know what really happened to his brother. Or who did it.
Data nodded. “If I do what I did again, would I also have to go?”

Noonien looked at him perplexed. “Data, you and your brother might look alike, but you are so different. He was irrational. You, on the other hand, are nothing but rational. You never have to go.” Noonien wanted to smile, but his muscles didn’t work with him.
“Please don’t tell your mother that I told you about Lore. I don’t think she wants you to know about him.”
“I won’t tell her,” Data replied. Then it was silent again. Noonien ate his breakfast, and Data sat there and looked at him.

When Juliana came to the table, the Soong family had a normal breakfast. Juliana ate a piece of toast and drank a coffee. Then she whirled around to Data and asked if he wanted to accompany her to the market.
Some colonists farmed their own vegetables and gave them away to the community. Juliana liked fresh fruits and produce more than the stuff that came out of the replicator. She could taste the difference. That’s why she always went when there was a market. It was not only something to get fresh food from but also to mingle, talk to others and get updated on current events.
Since Noonien hated crowds, people, or talking to anyone, he never came with his wife. Now that they had Data, Juliana didn’t have to go alone anymore.

The shock from last night still sat deep in her bones. She saw the scene over and over again. The look on his face when he said it. The way he had grinned at her. And the way he had touched her cheek with disturbing gentleness.
And Data had brought back those memories she had tried to forget.
That is why Juliana was happy when Data told her he would like to come with her and to help pick out the right fruits and vegetables.
Juliana stopped for a second. Data had just used a word he normally didn’t for himself: like. Data sometimes said he didn’t mind things or he appreciated them. But like he had never said before today.
Juliana brushed it off as a way to say the same thing in a different way. Data was just imitating the way she and Noonien talked.

Data and his mother left the house soon after. Juliana brought with her a basket, which always made her feel like she was sent back in time — into a world where there were no colonies of Earth’s people on other planets or moons. A world where you needed to farm to survive, and replicators couldn’t even be dreamed of.
Data and she talked about their surroundings. Data always used the way to the farmers’ market to brush up and train his small talk.
“Nice weather we are having.”
Juliana laughed a bit. “Yes, it’s always nice, Data. It’s controlled climate.”
“But it is nice weather. And the sun is out. When it isn’t out, it can be freezing cold this time of year.”
Juliana smiled. Taking Data with her had been the right idea. Of course, he wasn’t Lore. He would not say those things. Data was his own person, and he was still learning. He might make mistakes sometimes, but as a mother, it was her job to tell him what he did wrong and what to do instead.

When they arrived at the marketplace, Juliana saw a couple of friends. She waved and went over to them. The two women were glad to see her and started up a conversation about the turnout, the produce, and the newest gossip and developments.
Data stood still as he watched his mother talk. He stood behind her, listening to the women talk to each other. Then he looked around and scanned the market for the fruits and vegetables his mother liked most. His father didn’t eat any of it — not without getting talked into it first. But Data wanted to do something nice for his mother after scaring her the night before. So he left Juliana’s side and went over to one of the stands that gave away food.

Data knew from his studies that many hundred years ago, farmers sold their produce to earn money. This then enabled them to buy something else they needed, like grains, a horse, or a car.
At this market everything was free. The farmers farmed because they wanted to and not because their livelihoods depended on a good harvest.
Genetic manipulation made everything grow easier, faster, and bigger. Data picked up a big red fruit. It was a tomato, his sensors told him.

And then another thought came: his mother liked them very much. He did not. He did not like the way they felt in his mouth.
“You also want a cucumber?” the man behind the counter full of his produce said, holding up a long green vegetable.
“Thank you, sir,” Data said and took it from him. “My mother likes tomatoes more than cucumbers, but I prefer these. I like it that it’s texture more.”

The farmer laughed a bit. Of course, he knew Data was an android. It was hard not to notice his skin and eyes — and the way he moved.
“Well then, everyone likes what they like,” he shrugged.
Data hadn’t noticed that Juliana had ended the brief talk with her friends already and had seen her son at one of the farmers’ stands. She had gotten there a few moments earlier — early enough to hear what Data had said.

She felt sweat form on her back, and her fingers pressed the handle of her basket so tightly until her knuckles turned white.
That wasn’t small talk. And that was not a different way to say things. Data had just had an emotion.

Chapter Text

When they got home, Juliana set down the produce from the market and, without looking at Data for another second, went into her husband’s laboratory. She let the door slide open, and as soon as she was inside, she put in the locking code on the pad beside the door.
Noonien was sitting at his desk, fumbling around with some kind of robotic arm. He didn’t look up when she came in, but when he heard the beeps of the locking mechanism, his eyes went up to check what was going on.

His wife stood in the room with a look of horror. Her body was shaking as she moved a couple of steps in his direction.
Noonien still said nothing.
Juliana opened her mouth and closed it again. It felt like there was a clump blocking her airways.
Noonien stood up from his chair and walked over to her. He still didn’t know what to think but had found that Juliana sometimes just needed a hug when she was stressed and overwhelmed.
He was in the middle of hugging her when his wife pushed him away and slapped him across the face. There were tears in her eyes.
Noonien still said nothing but touched the now reddened cheek and mouthed the word “Ow.”
“You prick,” Juliana hissed. “You and your godforsaken ego!”
Noonien looked at her with furrowed brows. Juliana’s lip quivered.
“What are you doing?” he finally said in a quiet tone.
“You said it would work. Well, it didn’t. I told you so, but no. Of course, you’re the great genius. Well, genius, you’ve created another monster.” She took a step back, still looking at him with anger in her eyes.
“What?”
“He has feelings.”
“Who?”

“Who? Data, of course. He just told me so. First, he said that he didn’t like tomatoes, then he told me he wanted to do something nice for me because he scared me last night.”
The tears in Juliana’s eyes seemed to stay where they were, as if she had told them not to roll down her face. As if she willed it.
“I told you we shouldn’t include your stupid sex program. It was risky, and I told you. And now our son hates tomatoes.”

Noonien tried not to, but he snorted, stifling a laugh.
Juliana intensified her look of anger and disgust.
“I’m sorry, but what? He doesn’t like tomatoes and he felt bad? That doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
Juliana wished she could punch him. He looked at her with amusement, not understanding what her problem was. He was still the arrogant man she had gotten to know. He would never change. And he would never fully see her as an equally capable scientist.
Because in Noonien Soong’s world there was only room for one god — himself.

They looked at each other for a while. It was silent, and Noonien still smiled at her with delight and condescension.
Juliana matched his stare. She wouldn’t lose this time. It was time that she was the winner.
“I will leave,” she then said quietly. “Deactivate him, or I will leave.”
At first, Noonien’s laugh got more than less noticeable on his face. He didn’t believe her. But the way she looked at him in this moment made him wonder if she really would.
“I won’t,” he replied with confidence, not losing his smile. He said it even quieter than her.

Juliana’s eyes were still clouded by the tears in them. Part of why she loved this stupid, arrogant man was the way he looked when he was stupidly arrogant. She didn’t give in all those times because she was weak. She did it out of love. Yes, she let him believe he won because he was more willful or more brilliant than her. But she could have won anytime. However, Noonien Soong was his work. And if she didn’t let him win there, he would lose in every part of life.
“You won’t,” she stated again, her voice quivering. She was shivering. She felt like there was a force inside of her that couldn’t get out because she still blocked the exit.
“I won’t,” Noonien repeated. He dared her. Dared her to leave him.

Juliana blinked away her tears. Some fell down; others stayed in with sheer will. She would not cry over this man and his arrogance, she told herself.
The world seemed to hold on for a second, as if the universe was waiting to see what would happen next — if she would go this time.
While looking down on herself from a point on the ceiling, Juliana moved her legs and turned around. She saw herself entering the code to unlock the door and saw how the door slid open like it had done so many times before.
Then, from the point far above, she saw herself crossing the living room, ignoring Data and going into her bedroom. There, a person looking like herself took out a suitcase she had never used — because Noonien Soong wasn’t the type for vacations — and started to pack the things she would need. The things she wanted to bring somewhere she was going. She didn’t know where that was yet, but somewhere where Data and her husband weren’t. Somewhere she wouldn’t see the face she had fallen in love with in different biological and synthetic variations.

Juliana put down the suitcase on the bed and started slamming different types of clothing into it. It didn’t matter. She could replicate everything. But she needed to do this — something with her hands that would help her focus and swallow down the rage she felt.
Then she heard a voice. It was Noonien. “Data, go to your room. Lock the door. Now.” He sounded harsh.
Juliana heard steps, then someone closing a door.
Suddenly, Noonien stood in the doorframe of their shared bedroom. He looked at her packing her belongings. He couldn’t put into words what he was feeling.

There had to be something he could do, though.
“Slap me again,” he blurted out — a stupid idea that came to his mind.
“What?“ Juliana was crying, her nose was stuffy and she was still shivering.
Noonien took one step forward. “I see you want to.“
His wife stopped packing the suitcase for a moment, and looked at him with anger.
“I am not the monster here,“ she insisted.
“No, I am and I deserve it.“ He took another step forward, testing his luck.

It had been a while since Juliana had seen this look in his eyes. It was an honest and sincere look. However, something else lay beneath it like a hungry animal.
Juliana hesitated, then she shook her head. It must be a trick. A sick game of his.

But Noonien then took her hand gently and put it on his cheek. The one she had hit earlier, which now she regretted.
Now, there was no honesty or apology in his eyes anymore. They said something different. And she could only image what she would feel if she touched the front of his pants now.
It wasn‘t an apology or a way to apease her. It was about his endulgence again. And that made her mad.

Mad enough to slap him with the hand he had held just now.
The slap echoed through the room. It stared them in the face like it asked if they were done. If this was all.
Noonien‘s look got different now. His enjoyment was visible. So Juliana slapped him again.
Noonien intercepted the last slap and caught her hand in his. He looked at her with want and a feeling of power.

Noonien moved her fast. It didn‘t‘t take long and she lay on their bed, looking up at him.
“Try again,“ he demanded.
“I will,“ she whispered, barely able to draw breath. Her heartbeat was getting faster. Her tears had dried, and all she could think of was him. Now. Here. Fast.
She tried to get up to slap his stupidly handsome face again, but he stopped her, held her down.
Juliana shivered again. This time though, not out of anger but exitement about what would come next.

”nd try again now,“ he said in a commanding tone. He held her wrists in his hands, pinned them both down on the covers. His warm body lay on hers. Juliana could feel that he was hard. So her body pressed up into his, seeking friction. He carressed the side her hips with one hand while holding her wrists in his other. And then they looked at each other.
It had been a long time since they had looked at each other like this.
The look turned into a kiss that felt long overdue. Juliana fell into it like she needed it to breathe. And she kind of did. Noonien moved them both again. They lay nect to each other as their kissing got more intense and urgent.
Noonien slowly removed her pants and her underwear, throwing it aimlessly on the floor. Then he took off his own. Juliana wrapped herself around his body until she sat on top of him. She took the rest into her own hands. Trying to be gentle, she made him fill her up. She grabbed onto his hair, kissed and slapped him as she moved up and down. In her own speed and to her own rhythm.

She was the winner this time. She was in charge and had the upper hand.
As he looked at her from below, he thought the same. Noonien felt like he had won again. He had told her to stay and she had stayed.
He had told her to slap him and she had done it. And now she sat on him with confidence and had her eyes closed, savoring every bit of this moment.
He grabbed her hips and pressed her down harder on himself. She gasped and slapped his hands away. Then she felt the tightness in her muscles as she came.
After a couple of minutes sitting on him after, Noonien whispered, “I am going to fix it. I promise.“

In the middle of the night, Juliana woke up. This time there was no sound she had heard to interrupt her sleep. There was no light anywhere. It was a feeling that had woken her up. She looked at the bedside next to hers and found it empty. Noonien was somewhere else. Maybe he was working.
She felt her heart pumping in her chest again, relaxed a little, until she thought she heard someone.

A voice that differed from the two she was used to these days.
“Oh mother,” it said reprimandingly. “Do you really think you will get rid of me?”
Juliana turned around, searched for him in the whole room.
“And always you back down.”
She couldn’t see him. Was he really there?
“As I told you before: It will all be over when my friend in the sky comes. When he brings all his friends. And there will be only dust after this. And me. Because, mother,” the voice spat it out, “I am the next step of your evolution. You may not believe me. But, oh, some day you will.”
Juliana felt the sweat dripping down her neck and back. He wasn’t here.
But it didn’t matter, because she carried a part of him inside her head. The ugliest part.

Chapter Text

Captain Jean-Luc Picard left Sickbay after planning the next steps with his team of bridge crew officers. They agreed that he, as the representative of the Federation, should be well rested for tomorrow’s meeting with Rhael tr’Kovrek.
Even though the captain didn’t feel like being able to sleep through the night was fair to the other officers who needed to work all night long, he didn’t go back to his ready room but went straight to his quarters. As the door slid closed behind him, he sighed. He still felt cold and exhausted. Maybe the best idea was just going to sleep right away. He needed to rest.

Jean-Luc couldn’t walk past the replicator, though, without ordering himself another cup of Earl Grey. The teacup appeared on the replicator’s tray and the captain took it in both his hands. The warmth the cup emitted soothed him. He smelled the tea — a familiar aroma that had accompanied him through thick and thin. No matter where in the galaxy he was, he could always count on his tea bringing him comfort in the most difficult situations. No appearance of Q, no holodeck malfunction or difficult ambassadors could take from him the feeling he got from drinking his tea. And especially when he felt cold, a hot tea was the right choice.

He took a long sip from the cup. It had the right temperature to drink but not burn his tongue. Jean-Luc had programmed this with care and after a lot of trial runs.
He sat down on his bed, still holding the cup. He would get under his covers soon. He would just sleep and try to forget most of today — well, just until tomorrow came. But tonight he needed to relax. After finishing the cup, he went into his bathroom and got ready for bed.

It was on evenings like this that he thought about somebody. Not anyone in particular, but the mere possibility of someone in his life who would be there in these situations — who would be with him in the captain’s quarters, who would order his Earl Grey, stand next to him while they both brushed their teeth in the evening, and then would get into bed with him. Someone who would warm up the bed with their body heat. Who would talk to him even when it was late. Talk about the day or anything else, really. Just to talk.

Jean-Luc climbed into the big bed and got comfortable. He looked at a book that lay beside him on the bedside table. It was read almost all the way through. It was a book about Andorian archaeology. For a second he thought about picking it up and reading a few pages. It was a good book. But he felt another headache coming on, and maybe just turning out the light would be better for his health.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured to himself. He would read the book tomorrow night before bed. He just hoped everything would be in order by then. Next he turned out his light and lay his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

Like after most exciting days, getting to sleep was almost impossible. Jean-Luc was aware that chronic sleep deprivation and insomnia were things most captains had to battle their whole careers. It came with the job.
He tried to think about nothing. But the nothingness — the black background of his closed eyelids in the darkness — became noises and feelings. He heard the meeting play in his head again, and he heard Number One ask someone what they wanted. He had looked so confused.

Jean-Luc would never admit that in front of his crew, but Will being unable to be his first officer, even if it was for just a day, was scary to him. Because by now, after this time, they were a team who needed to stay together. Jean-Luc wouldn’t know what to do if Will decided to finally get his own command. In these situations, even the flagship’s captain was selfish.
In the meeting he had felt close to toppling over then and there. And knowing that William Riker had been there, picking up where he had left off, would have been all right for Jean-Luc. But his first officer lay in Sickbay after having hallucinated and fainted.
Who knew for how long he couldn’t attend to his duties?

The captain stopped himself in the middle of the spiral. He should sleep. Tomorrow was important and he needed to be well rested and free of pain and tiredness to deal with the cocky Romulan.
However, finding sleep eluded him today. After the spiral came a thought train that ran backwards on the rails — right back to the moment he had smelled the flowers of the planet without a name.
Lethara V. It suddenly came into his head. That had been the name.

Jean-Luc sat back up in bed. He had heard a rustling near him. It had sounded like wind touching a plant, rustling its leaves or blossoms.
He felt his heart pounding. Next a high-pitched tone took over his right ear.
He fumbled around next to him to try turning on the light beside his bed. He needed to see what was happening — if something was happening.

But when he turned on the light, there was nothing. That had been what he had suspected. He had been hallucinating again.
In a fast movement he grabbed his comm badge and pressed it. After hearing the tone he stammered, “Picard to Sickbay. I need help. I am hallucinating.”

No one answered him.
His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would leave his chest after the next movement. The tone he heard in his right ear moved over to the left one. He felt the breeze around him again.
Knowing it was illogical, he stretched his covers higher to warm up. But the cold seemed to be following him. It stayed with him. It was as though the cold didn’t come from somewhere in the room or through a vent but from himself. Like it came out of him.

To flee the eerie sensation of being covered but colder than normal, Jean-Luc left his bed. He paced through his bedroom. He felt disoriented. Good thing he had already told Sickbay he was hallucinating.
Then he smelled the flowers again. The flowers of Lethara V. A Federation colony.
He had been a lieutenant back then. Newly instated. The promotion ceremony hadn’t been over a week, and he had taken charge of his first away team.
The mission had been something about a storm that was to come. The Federation had tried to stop the storm or at least minimize its power so that the colonists didn’t need to flee.
Most of them had been Andorians. Jean-Luc remembered that first day on the surface. It seemed to come back to him in flashes.

They had transported down. Back then he wasn’t as confident as today, but he played the part well. He had introduced himself to some of the colonists and had explained their mission.
It was an easy one. But something went wrong, didn’t it? They weren’t able to minimize the storm’s impact. It wasn’t their fault, but suddenly evacuation was on the table again. And after a time, it wasn’t just there — they had to evacuate as fast as they could.

Jean-Luc didn’t stop walking through his quarters. He went the same route over and over as more memories came back to him.
The evacuation. Something went wrong. It wasn’t his fault, though. How could he have known that they helped those who were to be hit last by the storm?
No, it wasn’t his fault. It was a chance of one to one. He could have thrown a coin.

Then this face came back. And the way she had looked, laughing about his jokes. He had been a bad joke-teller and way too casual with the locals. He had spent much time with them, working on the solution and then planning the evacuation.
And it wasn’t because she lived there and he wanted to help her first.
It was a decision he could have flipped a coin over. It wasn’t her laugh or the way her antennae had moved when he took her to their settlement’s garden. It hadn’t been the smell of the flowers or the way she had taken his hand in hers and had whispered something about being professional — and that he made it hard for her not to get personal with Starfleet.

It had been his choice where to evacuate first, but the storm turned around. It was unpredictable. The instruments were clear: the readings showed either this or that way. It could have been one or the other.
He wasn’t responsible for their deaths.
He wasn’t. It wasn’t up to him.

Data looked at the screen that showed his open diagnostic program. It showed a new line, and the readings said it had been activated around the time Data had seen his father in the hallway. “Curious,” the android said.
“More than that, Data. I would call it impossible,” Geordi mumbled with interest, visor fixed on the display. The readings didn’t stop. They went on.
“We have not installed anything new. It just… came online like it was activated by… you? Or Soong? I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem to be possible. Your systems are so delicate and intertwined.”

“So he had been right? A new program is now active. But I do not feel any different than before. I seem to have all my abilities, and my memory files are intact,” Data said and looked down at his hands. He thought about Noonien’s hands, and how they looked almost the same.
A corner of his mouth went down half a centimeter. Then it came back up.
“We need to report this to the captain. I don’t know if it is related to the neurotoxin, but it could be possible,” Geordi said with emphasis. He copied the readings and saved them in the folder they used to inform each other of their progress in solving the mystery of the neurotoxin.

“But the Romulans have had no access to my systems,” Data said, furrowing his brow a bit.
Suddenly his sensors picked up a coldness around him. Data turned around to Geordi. He was still looking at the readings.
Data tried to make sense of what he had felt. But he had no words for it. He only knew that for a few seconds, his body had not been at its preferred temperature.

Chapter Text

To become a diplomat of the Romulan Empire, you had to be not only vicious and intelligent but also capable of holding yourself upright in situations with other, mostly inferior cultures. You needed to be smart about what you said and how you said it. A layer that coated every bit of Romulan culture — from the doors to the names of every person — also coated Romulan diplomacy. It was all about holding all the cards and never letting anyone see them.

Romulan diplomats were rare, because Romulans preferred to take rather than talk about feelings or the possibility of cooperation. After all, if you are perfection, what more could be added to it? It was, as their stone-faced cousins the Vulcans would say, illogical.

Dealing with the Federation, in particular, was a task no Romulan diplomat volunteered for. There was no glory or influence to be earned by talking to a bunch of half-wits who had formed a club and were out for the Romulan people. Even though the Empire knew that these pathetic forms of life were no match for Romulan intellect — or weapons — someone had to talk to them occasionally, or at least patrol along the Neutral Zone.

Most of the time, the Federation was contacted by Romulan commanders. None of them were trained to speak to the inferior club that called itself the Federation. These commanders would often act on instinct, not in the name of diplomacy or peace. Of course they would — that was how they were trained.

Rhael tr’Kovrek had enrolled in diplomacy lectures after already becoming a highly decorated commander. Most of the battles he had fought had been too easy. The Romulan power had always been too great for anyone to stand against. He had achieved everything he could have dreamed of.
And although it was untypical to say it: he had loved his job.
Not only was he in charge, but he also got to degrade, kill, and order around anyone he damn well pleased.

Diplomacy had first been a hobby — something to focus his energy on again, something challenging. They had told him that being a diplomat didn’t come with a fleet or even a pay raise. But it intrigued Rhael tr’Kovrek anyway.
He had already fought his battles. He was at the top and would be remembered forever. So he took on this new challenge with the knowing smirk he was known for.

When the assignment of once again dealing with the Federation was sent to him, he jumped at the opportunity to finally go head-to-head with those creatures who thought they could take down every Romulan in known space.
The assignment, like everything else, was wrapped in three layers of secrecy and riddles. Its true purpose had to remain hidden. Only he knew what the mission really was — he and a few Subcommanders on board his vessel.

The IRW Sae’Lareth wasn’t large, but sleek and tactical. She was, as her name said, the Shadow’s Emissary. She carried herself with grace, appearing small and unsuspecting — but when she wanted to, she could outmaneuver any ridiculous Starfleet design.

Rhael tr’Kovrek felt comfortable in his spacious captain’s quarters. He loved walking through the corridors, receiving respect mixed with envy and hate from everyone on board. He liked discipline, precision, and most of all — himself.

After a first conversation that had already confused the Enterprise’s captain, he was now ready to strike a second time. In his diplomacy lectures, he had learned that the way to the Federation’s heart was through psychological warfare, confusion, and overwhelming scientific data. They — stupid and primitive as they were — always believed that peace was on the negotiation table. And a good Romulan diplomat let them believe exactly that.
Rhael tr’Kovrek was not good; he was the best.

“Ready to energize,” one of his underlings announced, eyes on the panel before her. He didn’t know her name.
“All right,” he confirmed and braced himself.

A beam enveloped him; he heard the shriek of the transporter systems and, for a second, felt himself reduced to little particles whirling through the transporter streams.
The sensation faded quickly. When he opened his eyes again, he stood in the transporter bay of the Federation starship Enterprise.

Behind the console stood a Vulcan officer, of all things. He found it morbidly tragic that their cousins had stooped down to the level of these inferior beings. But after all, long ago the Vulcans had chosen not to follow their greatness — instead sitting down, drinking boring tea, and closing their eyes for hours to avoid nightmares. Pathetic, Rhael thought.

Standing in an official pose were Captain Picard and a person Rhael had only seen once before, when they had spoken over the comm channels. The person looked human — no Vulcan ears, no Andorian antennae, no Klingon ridges. But his skin and eyes were so pale it almost seemed artificial. For a moment, Rhael shuddered. That must be him.

He had heard stories about the android aboard the flagship — how they trusted this walking computer with an official rank, even letting it represent the Federation’s interests. He snorted, wondering what would come next: would a tricorder interview him?

But now he was a diplomat, and even though it was hard for any good and honorable Romulan, he had to dial down his contempt. So he grinned, made eye contact with both of them, and stepped off the platform.
“Captain, what a refreshing sight you are.” Not being openly mean took a few minutes of effort for Rhael.

As always, the Federation captain remained calm and infuriatingly professional. “Commander, we are looking forward to another discussion about peace between the Romulan Empire and the Federation,” Picard droned on.

Rhael, however, was much more interested in the abomination that held the rank of Lieutenant Commander. He could actually command? Could this thing even think about complex situations?
The android noticed the diplomat’s look and answered the question he hadn’t asked.
“I am an android, Ambassador. That is why I look different from other humans.”

Rhael tr’Kovrek swallowed a bit of saliva that had gathered in his mouth. The voice was so life-like. It wasn’t just unnerving — it intrigued him on a level he hadn’t thought a machine could reach.

They left the transporter room together, but not before Rhael shot the Vulcan operator a dirty look that said it all: This is the Empire you want to belong to?
The Vulcan replied with a blank stare. Rhael had long suspected that Vulcans might have meditated their souls right out of their bodies by now.

He snorted and followed the captain and the android. On the way to the unimpressive conference room, Rhael used the chance to get a better look at the android Captain Picard had called Data.
That was a really stupid name — and not helpful if this thing wanted to be more human-like.
Not that Rhael thought that was something worth aspiring to.

Walking beside the captain and behind the android officer, Rhael noticed the narrow hips of the artificial lifeform ahead of him. Had they accidentally screwed the wrong head on?
His eyes wandered downward as Picard went on about peace talks and the parameters of the Neutral Zone. Whoever had built this thing had clearly tried to make it enticing. It was hard for the diplomat to focus on what the captain was saying.

Yesterday he hadn’t had these problems. Yes, he had mocked the ship’s interior — as every self-respecting Romulan would — and he had enjoyed seeing the captain unable to throw him off the ship for it. But the fun of annoying this fool had faded. Rhael almost forgot why he was here.
Arriving at the conference room, his two Federation counterparts reminded him of the purpose.
The parameters of the Neutral Zone — right, that was the cover.

He sat down opposite Picard and this “Data” and crossed his arms.
“We would like to talk more about your request, Commander,” Picard said in a throaty voice. He sounded ill. They should really change the age limit for captains. Humans were so fragile — and aged so quickly.
The android wouldn’t, though, Rhael mused. He would stay like this forever.

“Demands,” Rhael corrected. “I’m not here to talk about what may happen, Captain. I’m here to confirm what the Romulan Empire expects of you. Change the parameters of the Neutral Zone, and we can begin our peace talks — not the other way around.” He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair.

He could feel he almost had them both on their knees. The captain seemed close to nodding, to calling it a successful negotiation.
The android looked at his captain with a curious blink.
Then Picard, hands resting on the table, turned again to Rhael tr’Kovrek. “No.”

Rhael laughed. “A very interesting tactic. Is this what they teach you at your little academy?”
“We both know it’s not about the Neutral Zone. That’s not why you’re here, Ambassador,” the captain replied, harsher now.

Rhael was almost amused. Again, he remembered his training: The Federation hates not knowing the mission. They are putty in your hands as long as you leave everything open to interpretation.
He just needed to keep his secrets until they gave up. That shouldn’t take long.

As Picard went on, Rhael’s eyes drifted back to the android. He was typing something on the pad before him — much faster than any human could. Rhael reminded himself: this wasn’t a real person. It was a machine that looked like one.
Perhaps the Federation had brought it to the meeting deliberately — to throw him off balance. But it would take more than a good-looking machine with nice hips to make him stumble.

“The Federation would be happy to grant the Romulans their request to change the parameters of the Neutral Zone,” Picard said. “But first we need answers. We have reason to believe you’ve been attacking us with a new weapon. And we are neither able nor willing to play a game we’d lose before even stepping on the field.”

Rhael felt a flicker of unease but couldn’t lose the illusion he had crafted so carefully. So he smiled at the captain, confident.
“Give us what we want, and we’ll talk about peace, Captain.”

Something inside him stirred at that moment. It was something new — and it grew stronger when the android looked at him with that unblinking curiosity.
Rhael knew that, even though the Federation mostly lacked the art of deception, they weren’t playing fair this time. Something was different — and he suspected the android, who still didn’t waver in his stare.