Data sat in front of his computer screen scanning the thousands of images of male attire that came up under his search for 'men's clothing for New Years Eve.' He was perplexed by the variety of styles and colors offered. He chose a random sampling and sent them on to Counselor Troi with a request for her opinion on which one would be appropriate for him to wear to Captain Picard's party. Data wanted to be confident in his choice. He was greatly looking forward to being a guest and observing his Captain's conduct in performing the duties of host.
Data had already hosted three traditional holiday parties in as many months with mixed results. His purpose on each occasion was to explore the subtleties of human emotion as revealed in a prescribed social setting dictated by traditional Earth customs. First he had looked into the emotions of fear and anxiety as revealed through a haunted house Halloween party. Next, the dynamics of family interaction during a shared Thanksgiving Day meal. Lastly, the human need for gift giving to demonstrate bonds of friendship as part of a mid-winter holiday celebration, most commonly referred to as Christmas. On each occasion, Data had gleaned valuable information through close observation of his fellow officers. However, he also recognized that his hosting left something to be desired and did not fully please them as revealed by facial expressions of dismay, and even alarm on more than one occasion. Undoubtedly, that had resulted in the Captain's evident concern when Data had been about to host a New Years Eve party of his own. Captain Picard had clearly discouraged it and instead suggested he attend as a guest.
Data was not offended. He did not feel daunted or unfairly criticized. In fact, he felt nothing at all. Perhaps one day he would feel something if he continued his studies of emotion, though it seemed doubtful. While he could not feel emotion, he aspired to comprehending it on an intellectual level and calculating the correct response to emotions expressed by those who did feel them. He was perfectly able to mimic any facial expression and mirror it back. However, he had found that simply being a mirror was not perceived in a positive manner. In fact, the other party tended to respond negatively and indicate that it was an insult. Therefore, he had learned instead to maintain a relatively neutral facial expression that while seldom perceived as sympathetic, did not inspire extreme outbursts.
In addition to holiday attire, Data had also been researching the expected duties of a guest. Apparently bringing a gift for the host was a common tradition. He found himself stumped on selecting an appropriate gift. Data did not remember Captain Picard ever revealing personal wants and with a replicator readily available to him, most anything he needed or desired could be created upon request. Thus it was only logical that the gift needed to be something that could not be generated by a replicator.
"Just don't go overboard," Geordi advised him, when Data asked for his opinion the following day in Geordi's quarters.
"I have no intention of exiting the Enterprise," Data replied. "However, I am considering ordering an item to be shipped in."
"What kind of item?" Geordi asked, recalling the live turkey that Data had ordered for Thanksgiving. "Nothing with legs. I hope."
"There would be no legs involved," Data replied, tilting his head curiously at Geordi. "Nor any other appendage."
"Good. That's good. Just make it something small, you know, a token."
Data nodded. "Something small, yes. I understand. Thank you, Geordi."
When Data departed, Geordi hoped he'd been clear enough. With Data, you never knew.
On the night of the Captain's party, Data arrived punctually at exactly twenty-one hundred hours in Ten Forward where the festivities were to take place. He noted that not many people were yet in attendance. He approached Guinan, at the bar serving drinks.
"Happy New Year, Guinan," he said.
She smiled warmly in response. "Happy New Year to you, Data. You're looking very handsome in that tuxedo."
"You do not think it too bland then?"
"Not at all. Why do you consider it bland?"
"Black and white seems a bit unimaginative for a festive celebration. I was leaning toward a multi-colored suit with a three-sided hat trimmed in bells. However, Counselor Troi suggested this instead. She was quite insistent."
Guinan smiled as the colorful image took form in her mind. "I think you were wise to listen to her. The jester suit might have been a bit too festive."
"Perhaps you are right. I see that my attire is similar to that worn by the majority of men in attendance here. I am curious as to why so few people have arrived. I was told that all the officers were invited."
"It's still early," Guinan replied.
"I arrived exactly at the time indicated on the invitation. This party began three minutes and thirty-two seconds ago."
Guinan laughed. "That's true. But people tend to filter in a little later than the actual start time. It's called being fashionably late."
"Hmmm," Data considered Guinan's statement. "Perhaps I should leave and re-enter at a more fashionable point in time."
"I have a better idea. Relax and have a drink," she said then thrust a green filled glass at him. "This is just for you."
"Thank you." He took a sip and raised his eyebrows to indicate surprise. "Ah. A liquid based polymer solution. An excellent lubricant."
"Glad you like it." She was about to excuse herself, then noticed the small wrapped box in his other hand. "Is that a gift?"
"Yes. It is a token. A small gift intended for the host," Data replied and looked in the Captain's direction on the far side of the room.
"Perhaps you should go give it to him then."
"A reasonable suggestion," Data acknowledged, but he did not move in the Captain's direction.
"Data, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were nervous."
"That would be an incorrect assessment. I am… uncertain. I cannot be nervous."
"I'm not sure there's a whole lot of difference between the two. But either way, when you've made a choice it's usually best to stick with it. You made up your mind when you walked in with that box, so now you just need to follow through."
Data nodded in concession, "Agreed." He swallowed the rest of his drink, returned the glass, and thanked her again, all in accordance with his programming on polite social behavior, before turning away and walking toward the Captain. He saw that Captain Picard was conversing with Counselor Troi and Mr. Worf, so he stood to the side, waiting politely for a break in the conversation. Within moments, Counselor Troi provided one by turning toward him.
"Good evening, Data. Please join us. We're discussing the tradition of making New Year's resolutions," she said.
"Ah. I am familiar with the custom," Data replied. "Do you have one in mind?"
Deanna nodded, "Yes, but I'm not sure how well I'll do keeping it. My resolution is to cut back on desserts. I seem to have become a chocoholic."
Data frowned to indicate puzzlement. "I am not acquainted with that term."
"It means I eat too much chocolate," she smiled in answer. "What about you? Do you have a New Year's resolution?"
Data shook his head. "It is not something I have considered."
"Well, mine is to finish that treatise I've been threatening to publish regarding Professor Galen's studies on micro-paleontology," Captain Picard said. "I hate to see the results of his work lost in the dust of Federation files. It should be widely distributed to all students of archeology without regard to race or political affiliation."
"A fitting legacy for a man whom you held in high esteem," Worf commented.
Picard nodded in agreement. "It's the least I can do to honor his memory."
"I'm sure he would be very appreciative that his star pupil was carrying on for him," Dr. Crusher said over his shoulder. Picard turned and smiled in recognition of her support.
"This concept of annual resolutions, I have always found puzzling," Worf stated. "So often, they revolve around unresolved personal failings that repeat themselves without alteration. My human mother resolves every year to lose the same ten pounds she had resolved to shed the previous year."
"I think my mother has a similar issue," Deanna said. "But with her, it's always about finding a new husband."
The four people smiled at each other in response. Data observed their facial displays evidencing shared amusement. Humor was something Data found especially challenging to comprehend.
"So what do you have there, Data?" Dr. Crusher asked, pointing to the wrapped box in his hand.
"A token gift for the host," Data explained. "This is intended for you, Captain."
"Oh. Thank you. That was very thoughtful," Picard said, and waited for Data to pass the gift to him. Instead, Data continued to hold on to it.
"Before you open my gift, perhaps I should preface it with an explanation. I wanted to present you with something you might enjoy possessing, however, there are few items which are not readily available to you or easily obtained. Also, since I have not heard you directly express a wish for a possession, I had to rely on personal observations. I have noted that when you visit my quarters, you have taken an interest in Spot, and expressed appreciation for his purring."
Picard took a deep breath. "You haven't got a very small cat in there, have you?"
"No, sir. I also recall your commenting on having no desire to be responsible for daily feeding and clean-up duty."
Picard exhaled in relief. "I'm glad you were paying attention."
"I always pay attention. I cannot not pay attention. In addition, Geordi cautioned me that my gift should not involve legs."
The four officers smiled again and Data realized he had said something humorous. He handed the gift to his Captain. "I hope this too will amuse you."
Picard removed the perfectly formed bow and cautiously lifted the lid on one side and peeked in. He closed it again and looked at Data. "That's not what I think it is, is it?"
"That is a difficult question to answer since I have insufficient information on what you think it is."
"An animal of some sort."
"It is a living creature, yes."
"I thought Geordi told you nothing with legs."
"It has no legs, or arms, or appendage of any kind."
"What about teeth?"
"It has no teeth either. I was told that it is completely harmless. I was also told it is best not to feed it, and since you do not feed it, there is no clean up duty involved. It does purr, however."
"Really?" Picard removed the lid and touched the small round furry thing with a finger. It immediately began to purr. He continued to stroke it, finding the soft trilling sound quite pleasant and relaxing. "It's rather charming."
Deanna sidled up to the Captain and peered into the box. "Oh, look. It's so cute. Where did you get it, Data?"
"From a Tarborean trader. Apparently these creatures are an endangered species. Their natural habitat was destroyed over a hundred years ago."
"Let me see that," Worf demanded.
Picard held the box toward him and the ball of fur squealed mightily when Worf loomed over it.
"Auugh!" Worf yelled. "You have brought a tribble on board. It must be destroyed immediately."
Picard pulled the box back. "It seems perfectly harmless, Mr. Worf. Why would you make such an assertion?"
"It is a detestable creature and a mortal enemy of the Klingon Empire."
Picard touched the animal again calming it and making it purr happily once more. "I cannot fathom what you're talking about. It has no teeth, no means of locomotion. I've never seen anything more defenseless and docile. No wonder it's endangered."
"Feeding a tribble more than the smallest morsel causes prolific reproduction. They are an ecological menace of such magnitude that they nearly destroyed the Klingon empire. It was we who obliterated the homeworld of these vile creatures."
"That must be why I was cautioned not to feed it," Data noted.
"May I hold it?" Dr. Crusher asked. As she cuddled it against her cheek, it purred loudly. Worf made a noise of disgust. Beverly and Deanna frowned at him.
"Captain, I must strongly caution you," Worf said with barely contained emotion.
"Duly noted, Mr. Worf. However, this is Data's gift to me and I trust his judgment. As for your ecological concerns, I will take the necessary precautions. I believe I am fully capable of containing this tiny animal you find so threatening."
Worf sighed and shook his head.
Picard placed the small creature back in the box and closed the lid. "Please relax, Mr. Worf. Enjoy the party and try not to worry so."
Guinan came round with a carafe of wine, filling the Captain's glass.
"Good evening and welcome everyone," he said in a loud voice that carried across Ten Forward. The room was now filled with people. He held up his glass. "Tonight I am sharing with you a favorite vintage from the Picard Family Winery. On this special occasion I thought it fitting to dispense with the usual synthenol and enjoy the real thing. Just be careful not to enjoy too much of it. Especially not on an empty stomach. I believe the good doctor has seen to it that none of you shall go hungry this evening, so please help yourselves."
He waved toward the back of the room at the banquet of food that Beverly had personally selected. As he played the role of host, greeting everyone and making small talk, he sipped his own wine appreciating the rare occasion when he allowed himself the pleasure. He watched as his guests moved toward the food table and Guinan continued to fill proffered glasses. Soon she was refilling his as well. He noted Data conferring with Worf, who still looked agitated. Picard glanced down at the small box holding its tiny passenger. How could something so meek stir such rancor? He sat down and placed the box in his lap and opened it again. The ball of fur sat there as before waiting for attention no doubt. He patted it again and it trilled contentedly. As people approached to thank him for his hospitality, they noted his small gift and a number asked to touch it or hold it, to which he consented under close observation. The reaction universally was one of delight as the small thing purred in response to them.
As the evening wore on, Picard drank more and relaxed more and observed less closely as a crumb of food here and there disappeared off a finger or a lapel. He recognized he was getting slightly tipsy and thought he should probably go get something to eat. At that point, he saw someone walking around with his tribble. He glanced down at the box expecting it to be empty, but no, his tribble was still there in the box. Then he blinked and looked again. There were three in there. Oh dear, he thought, and quickly put the lid back on the box. He looked over at Worf, who was conversing with Deanna. I should tell him, Picard thought, but then changed his mind, not wanting to cause a scene. He looked around to see if he could spot Data instead. He didn't see him anywhere so he tapped his comlink badge.
"Picard to Data," he said softly hoping no one would hear.
"Yes, Captain."
"My present has reproduced, Mr. Data. Please come assist me in rounding them up."
"Yes, sir."
A few moments later, Data stood by his side. "My apologies, Captain. In light of Mr. Worf's reaction, I left the party to research the subject of tribbles. Mr. Worf was correct that these animals are prolific reproducers. They are born pregnant with a gestation period of twelve hours. Upon feeding they bear a litter averaging ten pregnant offspring. At that rate, unabated they could literally fill the Enterprise in six days time."
"Good lord!" Picard gasped in alarm. "We need to locate all of them, immediately."
Data nodded. "I will do so. Immediately." He moved quickly through the room, scanning it with his eyes and a tricorder set to detect the creatures. He plucked one from the arms of a young female ensign. "Excuse me," he said politely when she protested, "but I must confiscate this. Captain's orders." He moved on, finding another and another. He had eight of them in hand when he returned to the Captain. I believe I have located all of them," Data reported. "With the ones still in your possession, that accounts for eleven tribbles."
"We can't allow them to reproduce again," Picard told him.
"I will take them to sickbay and have them sterilized. It is a simple matter of irradiation. Again, I must apologize. I failed to research these animals fully and instead trusted the representations of the trader. That was a serious error on my part."
"That's all right, Mr. Data. You wouldn't be the first to be taken in by a fast talking salesman. Just make sure there are no more surprises."
"Understood," Data replied and departed with his furry charges. He took them to sickbay and initiated the radiation procedure that would ensure the tribble population aboard would be restricted to these few. He put one of the now sterilized tribbles back in the gift box and returned to Ten Forward. He handed the box back to the Captain.
"There will be no more surprises," he assured him.
"Good," Picard replied and tried to put the embarrassing incident from his mind.
"This evening's experience as a guest has proved far more illuminating than I anticipated," Data noted.
"Really? How so?"
"I have learned that the representations of an individual hoping for monetary gain should not be relied upon without verification. Additionally, I have learned that personal pride can interfere with one's judgment and result in a resistance to taking advice even from a trusted source."
Picard looked at Data in surprise. Then he noted Worf staring pointedly at them both, wearing a small 'I told you so' smirk on his face. Picard nodded to him in response, acknowledging his foolhardiness in failing to listen.
"Seems I need to add another New Year's resolution to my list," he admitted.
"Yes, sir. As do I," Data replied.
"Happy New Year, Data."
"Thank you, Captain. Happy New Year to you as well."
Author's note: There were incidences in the TNG movies where tribbles were seen in cages and a child had a stuffed toy resembling one. I came up with this story to explain how live ones got there, and how they could remain on board safely.