A couple things to note here. I took a few liberties regarding timeline. Memory Alpha states that "A cut scene from (ENT: "In a Mirror, Darkly") has Archer invoking the blessings of "the gods", hinting that the Empire may be a continuation of or successor to the Roman Empire. Marlena Moreau's mention of Kirk becoming a "Caesar", would add support to this notion, as may the fact that "Terra" is the Latin word for "Earth"." I chose to go with that theory. Memory Beta also has Bruce Maddox as a Commander and the Associate Chair of the Daystrom Institute in 2265. I've bumped him up to Captain and Senior Chair. OK, that's all, as always please read and review. Let me know what you think.
"The value of the sword is not that it falls, but rather, that it hangs."
Wake At Length From Weary Dreams
He was aboard a shuttle that much was obvious. Trying to shake the feeling of disorientation he began to look at the console before him in search of a plotted course, a current position, anything to tell him where he was and where he was heading. However nothing on the instrument panel made any sense, the buttons, the language, the configuration it was all indecipherable.
"I cannot pilot this ship." He said softly.
From overhead a klaxon began to blare, the console flashed an angry red but the viewscreen revealed nothing. All right, from what he could determine what served, as scanners for the vessels were detecting nothing. If it was not a proximity alarm, then it must be a systems malfunction. He looked at the flashing lights and nonsensical words and design before him and felt a sort of helplessness sink in. The alarm seemed to grow louder and louder finally reaching a volume that could hurt even his ears. In desperation he started pressing buttons, making wild assumptions as to what this or that might do. Finally when he could bear it no more he put his hands to his ears and began to shut his eyes. Before they were fully closed something moved across his field of vision.
And then the alert stopped. Silence filled his ears nearly as loud as what it had replaced. Slowly he opened his eyes and found the console before him, every button and function key to be the calmest blue no longer the intimidating red. Nothing was flashing; nothing seemed to require any immediate attention, the words still made no sense and nothing looked anymore familiar yet he felt incredibly relieved.
Suddenly aware that he was not alone, as he had first thought he turned to his right. There on helm control sat a young man. The stranger didn't acknowledge him but instead had his legs crossed and outstretched, his feet resting on the navigational system before him. He had both of his hands folded behind his head, interlaced as he stared out ahead of them.
Was this his ship? Surely the strangers movement had been what he'd witnessed as his eyes were closing. A furtive gesture that satisfied whatever the spacecraft had been demanding.
He opened his mouth to speak but the young stranger, still in profile beat him to it.
"The mind is a funny thing isn't it, Data? The moment you fall asleep all the necessities, all the things we demand when we're awake go right out the window. Plot, theme, reason, logic all get sacrificed on the altar of the subconscious.
When I was a boy, my mother had a garden. Now, in the daytime except for shooing away stray rabbits and squirrels I found the whole thing rather boring. But at night I would sometimes sit there, legs folded beneath me and watch as that garden came alive. First the soil would shift a bit in these small places here and there. Then the worms would push their way to the surface, then the grubs would appear. Finally all the many-legged creatures that find refuge and sleep in the dark and dank places during the daylight would emerge as well. And I would sit there and watch and marvel as only a little boy can. That's what our minds are like when we sleep, Data. Everything we thought was hibernating decides to slither out and say good-evening."
The stranger turned to look at him and while Data had never truly seen him so young he knew at once it was his father.
"Did I ever tell you that story, Data?" he asked his eyes blue and alert without the slightest hint of pain or of wits blunted by age.
"I do not know." Data answered. "I am having difficulty accessing my memories."
"Ah well." Noonien said with a shrug. "It was a good story nevertheless. I wonder if it's true or if your subconscious just made it up? Like I was saying son, the mind is a funny thing especially when you're asleep. Suddenly, we have no patience for exposition." Noonien quickly adjusted his body putting his feet on the floor and swiveling his chair to face Data. He leaved forward and held his hand flat before his sons face, palm side up. With his other hand he took his pointer finger and aimed directly above the center of his outstretched palm.
"You see, Data when you dream, you dream from the center out." He said as slowly began to make a lazy and widening spiral on his palm with his first finger. Data watched, feeling slightly entranced by the small action. "You start at the center and work your way out. You figure out your purpose, your point, your reason for being here as you spiral outwards. You have to move away from the center because the center does not hold. The center cannot hold."
"I am unable to grasp your meaning, Father." Data answered regretfully.
Noonien sighed and dropped his hands into his lap.
"You've never used this program before, Data, why?"
"I had no desire to do so until now."
"Why now?"
"I thought there might be something to be gained."
"Mmmm. Instead we're in the most mundane of situations. Doesn't seem like a very sharp learning curve, eh son?
"So, where are we going?" he asked turning away from his son.
"I do not know." He responded feeling slightly embarrassed. "This configuration is unfamiliar to me."
"Aren't you wondering why there are no stars?" Noonien asked gesturing to the viewer before them. Indeed everything was an inky black.
"Father, if you are saying all of this to prove that I am dreaming, I will not dispute that fact." Data said patiently.
"No? Good." Noonien said with a smile Data found…unsettling. "So you understand I'm just an extension of your subconscious and that the console gibberish combined with the two of us currently en route to a void of nothingness represents your feelings of confusion, loss, pain, depression et cetera?"
"I had surmised as much."
"Great. That covers everything you think of when you think of me. So why is she here?" Noonien asked hooking a thumb behind him in a gesture that directed Data's gaze to the rear of the compartment.
Data gasped and pushed back in his chair as far as he could go. Not feeling it to be quite far enough he stood pressing his back against the wall.
There sat his mother grotesquely propped up in the aft section seats. A good portion of her steel gray hair was burned off, some of it melted to her skin. Her face was smudged and bloody in the places where it wasn't completely charred black. Her clothing was singed and torn, her were eyes closed and her mouth hung open slack and lifeless.
Noonien too had turned to gaze at her but his manner was far more appraising.
"Now that's a hell of a thing to be carrying around with you, huh?" he said almost cheerfully.
"I do not want her here." Data responded his voice nearly muted by his horror.
"Well that is and isn't true." Noonien said rising and heading to the rear of the shuttle. He took a seat next to his wife seemingly oblivious to her condition. "Your conscious mind may not want her here, may want to purge every single memory of her from your systems, may want to forget what you did to her." Noonien continued with a negating wag of his finger. "But we're not in the domain of your conscious, this is your subconscious and here anything goes!"
"You should not…" Data began and then faltered.
"What? Not sit so close?" Noonien asked and then rested his head upon Juliana's shoulder adopting a syrupy smile. "Don't we make a cute couple?" he asked before bursting into wild laughter.
"Why are you behaving this way?"
"I don't know, you tell me? It does seem incredibly out of character doesn't it?" Noonien rose quickly, quicker than Data had ever seen in real life. He approached Data and they stood identical nose to nose.
"You know what I think, Data? I think the reason you're here by yourself in a shuttle to nowhere that you can't pilot with only a ghost and a corpse to keep you company is because you feel guilty."
Data attempted to back away but there was truly nowhere to go.
"You feel guilty because you let me die and you murdered her."
Data's eyes widened in horror as the weight of his father's words fell upon him.
Noonien nodded theatrically and drew out the words and he continued. "Yes, I suppose my death could just be chocked up to negligence. But Juliana, I asked you, begged you to leave her to heaven, and to those thorns that in her bosom lodge to prick and sting her. But you killed her, premeditated, cold-blooded murder. But maybe it didn't feel all that cold after all did it, Data?"
Noonien had him pressed against the pod wall now. Logic having abandoned him now Data felt small and helpless. His father, his face unmarked by time, his grin savage his eyes sharp seemed to tower over him offering no exit.
"It felt hot, didn't it son? It felt powerful and raging and you know if you had veins they would have been throbbing in anticipation with what you planned to do."
"I did not relish it." Data lied.
"Come on, son." Noonien said harshly. "You should be smarter than this. You are literally lying to yourself and I ain't buying it."
"I wish for this dream to be over now." Data said struggling push away from his fathers form but with a hand on his chest Noonien held him easily.
"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking this whole trading universes thing is a second chance. Well let me tell you, there are no second chances, son. What you did happened. Nothing can change that. Making a mistake that big, well it follows you. Like spilling ink on linen, you can scrub and scrub and scrub but it will never come out and it's only going to spread and make your hands dirtier in the attempt."
Noonien suddenly stalked away from him back to Juliana's body. Without looking he swiftly put his hand on the nape of her neck and lifted Juliana to her feet. Data didn't have long to be shocked by the strength his father demonstrated as a new disbelief took over when his mother opened her eyes. Not dead after all.
"And murder, Data, a stain like that is going to bleed, bleed right across timelines."
Juliana began to sputter and cough struggling vainly in Noonien's grip. Data tried to shut out the pleas as she begged for her life.
"You can't slip out on fate, Data." His father said before adjusting his grip on Juliana. With one palm on the crown of her head and the other on her chin he stood behind her. "Hush." He said softly, soothingly while pressing his cheek against hers.
"Son, I'm sure you were expecting some sort of message here, some guidance, perhaps even absolution? But I'm afraid that's not how this works. Sometimes Data, a dream is just a dream."
With one sharp movement and a cracking sound Data found revolting he snapped Juliana's neck. Her eyes went wide, then dulled as Noonien let the body fall to the floor.
For the first time ever, Data woke up screaming.
Personal Log Stardate 56982.7
At Captain Maddox's request I have begun keeping a journal to record my experiences during this time. He feels it will have a certain relevance in the future as well as serve as a cathartic exercise for me at present. I confess to having my doubts. He has also stated the contents will be kept private unless I were to authorize their release. I have no reason to doubt him per se nor any reason to anticipate the desire to make my private thoughts public.
I have been at this facility for fourteen days now and have exhausted the limited records of the Federation I have been presented with. The date of timeline divergence is unclear but one thing is for certain, it occurred over two thousand years ago. In my universe the Terrans still believed in the gods. The Terran imperial ways threaded their way throughout Earth's history snaking its way through revolutions, movements, coups, assassinations, hiding, reemerging until its time finally came round. A grassroots organization grew into a political movement, then a party, then the ruling party; they waged the Third Great World War and were instrumental in attempts to unify the human race. After that, they became global all subsequent events leading up to that fateful evening of First Contact.
Events in this universe did not follow the same course. This Federation would have more than likely been called a fools paradise in my time. Over 150 worlds, united under one flag without the threat of tyranny or subjugation. Hundreds more non-aligned but friendly civilizations. Bajor aligned with this Federation. An alliance with the Klingon Empire. Opening talks with the Cardassians. It is all so drastically different I find it nearly impossible to believe.
Captain Maddox has by laborsome petition convinced me that Starfleet is not in fact a military regime and has no invisible arm ending in an iron fist. My suspicion appeared to grate upon him as he eventually said; "My goodness, Data its as if you're hoping something will be wrong!" I responded that I was not and that I was in fact simply attempting to learn all that I could. I think perhaps now that I may have told a falsehood. I do not trust this world as it has been presented to me. I do not trust the freedoms that I am said to possess. I do not trust the fact that I am free to leave this facility if I choose. I do not believe a world that has abolished poverty; hunger, money, greed, apathy and evil can truly exist. I still suspect things are being kept from me. Items, names, places have been redacted in the records Captain Maddox provided. Why? What is being hidden? Yet I hesitate to ask as I too am keeping secrets.
Now that he has completed the repairs to my system I have begun urging Maddox to shift his focus to my sister. Indeed he has asked me many questions about her creation and development but I have yet to be allowed to see her. These are the reasons I do not fully trust him. Though he purports to be my "friend" and seems at times to be attached to me I confess I feel no such connection. I feel no different here than I did in my father's lab, trapped, studied, hidden away.
I have been keeping my emotion chip online for much of these two weeks as I have decided I must learn to function with it. I have also discovered that emotions make firm decisions much less firm when burdens grow too heavy. In fact, if these dreams persist perhaps I will turn it off after all. I am subjected to nightmares nearly every evening, each one more disturbing than the last. I have little desire to explore their significance and have chosen to recount them in this journal in third person as it affords me a much needed disconnect from the events.
I sometimes find myself still wishing I had perished in the shuttle all the while preparing to carry on. My 'father' is correct, I too do not believe in second chances. I know this is not over. I know there is a judgment waiting for me. My thoughts are turned increasingly inward and I have come to understand depression. I have a lingering feeling that a sword of sorts hangs above my head. Some rough beast is on the horizon; something is yet to be revealed.
I am afraid.