William Riker and Data stepped onto the bridge at about the same time. Both of them had just come from Engineering, and Riker was perspiring heavily, not a physical drunken reaction from the polywater virus, but from having come off the adrenaline rush of having watched the Enterprise veer, at the last moment, out of the path of a massive chunk of debris, hurled in their direction by an exploding star. All the way to the bridge he'd been subject to looks of praise, cheers, and the occasional clap, as had Mister Data. They were, at the moment, the stuff of heroes aboard the ship. The fanfare would be short-lived, but for the time being, Riker felt like he was on a high. One that had nothing to do with polywater intoxication.
The first thing on his mind, though, wasn't the ship. It was Deanna. Deanna Troi, the girl he'd fallen in love with years ago during his time on Betazed. The woman who was his Imzadi. The woman he shared a limited psychic link to. The woman who, under the influence of the polywater drug, had sought him out in Engineering, wanting to be closer to him. True, their relationship had been largely platonic, since their arrival on the Enterprise...but today was a day that fate had been kind to the Alaskan known as Will Riker, and perhaps fate would continue to be kind.
He'd invite her over for dinner. Yes, dinner. And he'd cook - or, damn, he'd make an attempt, anyway. A good attempt. He'd play soft jazz music in the background, and they'd talk, or maybe watch some old Earth movie, before falling asleep together on the couch. Something romantic, something sweet. It would be a night just like old times.
What brought a smile to Riker's face was also the fact that his companion, Data, seemed pre-occupied as well. The android was fidgeting. He had an anxious, day-before-Christmas look on his face, as if he were greatly looking forward to something. As if he'd made some sort of miraculous, earth-shattering discovery. That, or the polywater was still thick in his system.
"You feeling alright, Mister Data?" Riker had asked in the lift, curiously.
"I do not feel, sir," Data had responded matter-of-factly.
"Are you functioning normally?" Riker had sighed, rolling his eyes.
"Fully, sir - !" Data had responded, in an extremely uncharacteristic, cheery manner. Riker had stared at him, shocked. Data's expression faded, he fidgeted again, and he responded again. "I am functioning within normal operating parameters."
Riker had no clue what to assume, or what the reaction from Data must have meant. Given the sorts of things that the crew had done under the polywater's influence, Will wasn't completely convinced that he wanted to know. At all.
After they'd stepped onto the bridge, and after a brief discussion with the captain, Riker took his seat at the captain's right-hand side, in his seat, while Data moved to man the Science station behind the Tactical console. Picard glanced over, and patted Will firmly on the shoulder.
"Well done, Commander," Picard smiled, "I would say that congratulations are in order."
"Thank you, sir," Riker responded, formally, grinning all the while.
"I should be thanking you," Picard continued, "Were it not for your efforts, along with those of Mister Data and Mister Crusher, none of this would have been possible. We might all have been killed."
This was most certainly Will Riker's day. He'd earned the praise of his crew, his captain, and he'd saved about a thousand lives. With Data and Wesley's help, of course. But today was a definite ego-booster. He felt confident...he felt more alive than he had in years. The prospect of an evening with Deanna, and the thought that Deanna still felt attached to him, only made him feel more alive. The instant she stepped off that turbolift, he was going to walk right over, and ask her to -
The moment of truth. The lift doors parted, and Lieutenant Yar walked onto the bridge...closely followed by Counselor Troi. Yar took her place at Tactical, Troi took her place at the captain's left.
Riker glanced over, smiling, confidently about to ask Deanna about her plans for this evening.
What he received in return were daggers, stared from Deanna Troi, piercing right into his heart. He felt said heart sink, and his stomach churn, and felt as if the whole good, happy glow of the day was crashing down around him. He bit down on his lower lip, lightly, hoping that Deanna hadn't noticed, and that the captain hadn't noticed the disappointment either. Fortunately, the captain hadn't.
Deanna was simply ignoring him now. The slight, psychic link they shared was enough for him to get such negative feedback from her that it felt like a black, thick cloud hovering throughout the inside of his head. He had to take a mental step back to clear it all out, and then he went back in, this time concerned.
Is there something I should know? Riker asked, worriedly, Deanna, have I done something wrong?I
There was no response, except the stormclouds. Riker grimaced, and reclined in his seat. This bridge shift was set to last another two or three hours. It was going to be a long, long two or three hours if things continued to shape up this way.
He'd saved the ship, but, by the look of it, he'd lost the girl. Riker had done his duty, but felt an intense, emotional disappointment. All of a sudden, it didn't feel like he'd done all that much at all. Nothing to be proud of, anyway. He should have just left things to Wesley and Data when he'd had the chance...but then they'd all be dead, now, wouldn't they?
I guess I just can't have my cake and eat it, too, he thought, aware that Deanna would probably pick up on it. Judging from the renewed, angry glare, she'd picked up on it alright.
Riker started looking for a distraction. Data! Data was always good for a laugh.
God, how far have I fallen when I need to go to Mister Data to liven up a situation? he mentally groaned.
He turned, glancing up towards the android, about to ask for a time estimate, a projection, an ETA, anything. Something to bring a little bit of noise to a bridge in the middle of a most uncomfortable silence. What he saw was Lieutenant Yar approaching the Science station, glaring daggers of her own at Lieutenant Commander Data. Now, this was interesting. Riker wasn't one to eavesdrop...but this was pretty much plain-sight. It wasn't like he was spying on anybody...this just happened to pique his curiosity.
Data looked anxious, hopeful, the way he had on the turbolift. The android didn't have emotions, per se, but Riker could just tell, glancing at him, that Data was looking forward, very much, to something. And Data kept watching Lieutenant Yar. That was pretty unusual, as well.
They'd both been infected...was it possible that...?
All he heard were the words, and then he saw the confused, almost crestfallen look on the android's face.
"Data, I'm only going to tell you once: It never happened."
Riker spun around in his chair, his eyes wide and a hand over his mouth. The captain and Deanna both glanced over, neither one having noticed the exchange between the Tactical officer and the android. The expression on Will's face was anything but worthy of a member of the bridge crew. Picard arched an eyebrow, and Deanna glanced at Will as if he were losing his mind.
"Commander," Picard spoke, irritated, "Is there something wrong with your chair?"
"Not at all sir," Riker coughed, clearing his throat, "It's a wonderful chair. Very good, sir."
Picard watched him with puzzlement, for a moment, and then continued the log that he'd started, speaking into the comm unit on the command chair.
Riker's mind just reeled. Of course Troi hadn't noticed the exchange - Data didn't have emotions. But, damn, the android looked like he'd been kicked. Hard. So...under the influence of the polywater intoxication...Data and Tasha had...had...?
God, Riker groaned, I would NOT have seen that coming. Not in a million years.
"I think we shall have a fine crew," the captain observed, wrapping up his daily logs, "If we can avoid temptation."
Riker scoffed at the irony of the words, and then took one more hopeful glance at Deanna. She was still ignoring him. The dark cloud was now starting to cut both ways. Will was confused, and a little upset that she wouldn't even talk to him. He couldn't remember the last time she'd been so upset at him. He wondered how Data was faring, as well. It seemed like right now, both of them were having about the same measure of good luck.
"Mister Data," Riker called, "Estimated time to arrival at Starbase Twelve?"
There was silence. Extremely uncharacteristic of Data. Data was seated at the science station, staring at one of the displays, gazing off into nothingness. When Riker spared her a glance, Tasha looked noticeably guilty, and seemed to grow even more so the longer that Data's silence lasted.
"Mister Data," Riker repeated, "I asked you a question."
Data still sat, motionless.
"Mister Data!" Riker called, loudly.
Data jolted, as if waking up, and then twitched, retrieving the information swiftly from his positronic brain.
"Fourteen minutes, seventeen seconds, assuming maximum warp. At current velocity, I estimate two hours, thirty minutes, five seconds, and - "
"That will be all, Mister Data," Picard snapped, waving at the android, motioning for him to be silent. Data closed his mouth, and turned his back to the rest of the bridge, returning in silence to his work. Tasha audibly sighed.
The tension on the bridge was such that one could have reached out and cut it with a knife.
What broke the silence was a flash of light. Counselor Troi, Lieutenant Yar, and Lieutenants LaForge and Worf vanished from the bridge, so that the only remaining occupants were Captain Picard, Commander Riker, Lieutenant Commander Data, and...
"Q!" Picard hollered, glancing to his side and noticing a familiar, gloating figure wearing a Starfleet captain's duty uniform, "What is the meaning of this? Where have you taken my crew?!?"
Q, not allowing Picard a further moment to ask the question, began to prance about the bridge, a flash of light changing his costume to something old, classical, and Italian.
"La donna e mobile," Q began to sing, belting out lines of an old, opera tune, "Qual piuma al vento, muta d'accento - e di pensiero..."
Picard rolled his eye, and put a palm over his eyes, hiding himself from the frightful display. Riker was about to call up to Q, with a witty, snide remark in mind. What surprised the occupants of the bridge - all but one of them - was the fact that when Q passed by the Tactical station, approaching Science, Lieutenant Commander Data stood up, raised an arm, and delivered a swift left hook to the omnipotent, knocking him into and over the tactical station, so that he landed harmlessly in Captain Picard's lap.
"Did you see that?!?" Q pointed upwards, in a mock panic, "Jean-Luc, did you see that? Your tin man just hit me!"
"Mister Data!" Picard roared, glaring up furiously at Data, and then back down at the being perched in his lap, "Mister Data, your intentions are most honorable, but next time, please send our guest on a more...convenient trajectory?"
"My apologies, sir," Data responded, barely a whisper, before returning to his task at the science station. "I simply intended to communicate our desire to remove Q from the ship in a dialect I felt he would understand."
Riker glanced up in confusion at the android, who'd acted...hurt...for the first time that Riker could remember. Not that he'd known Data all that long. But...something was definitely off.
That little chat he had with Tasha did more damage than I thought, Riker pondered.
"Understanding? Communication? Trajectories?" Q laughed, cruelly, "Oh, the irony! The sheer irony! It's almost too much for me to bear!"
Picard pushed Q off of him, allowing the omnipotent to land in a heap on the floor.
"Q," Picard spoke, coolly, attempting to restrain himself, "If you have something of significance to say...I suggest you say it now, and be done with it."
"I just can't help noticing that you've all, in your own way, missed the mark. The golden boy," he spoke, motioning up towards Data, "The strapping young buck," he chuckled, pointing at Riker, "And you, mon capitan, perhaps the most romantically oblivious man I've ever laid eyes on."
"Romance?" Picard scoffed, "You kidnap my crew, and seize my bridge, to lecture me on romance?"
"Oh, Jean-Luc," Q mused, stepping to his feet, brushing himself off, and, in a flash of light, turned into the spitting image of a bruised hockey player. "Don't think of it as kidnapping..think of this as your own personal penalty box. I'll put your crew back shortly."
"Our very own penalty box?" Riker mocked, "Wonder what we did wrong to deserve that..?"
"Oh, you've done me no offence," Q smiled, "In fact, the opposite. That little episode with...polywater, was it? Provided me with a great deal of amusement."
Picard stood, approaching Q, and standing dangerously close to him, glaring furiously.
"The Captain and crew of the USS Tsiolchovsky were killed by the intoxication," Picard snapped, "If you had anything to do with this - !"
Q waved a hand, and a second, small flash of light appeared over Picard's mouth When the light faded, Picard's lips had been replaced by two opposing sides of a zipper. Sides that had been conveniently zipped closed, allowing Q to finish his thought.
"Well, that's better," Q sighed, "Now...I had nothing to do with your silly virus. I'm here because you amused me. Lieutenant Commander Data, define comedy."
"Comedy," Data recited, turning to face Q from the science station, still looking introverted and, mildly, still hurt, "Comedy, according to Webster's dictionary, is enjoyment taken from the limited tragedy of one or more fictional or realistic figures."
"Ah, poetry," Q smiled, holding his heart mockingly, shifting into a slightly more Shakespearean garb with a second flash of light. He wore an Elizabethan outfit, complete with moustache and goatee. "Tragedy, Data. That's the feeble, human word I was looking for. You three are a mess. A tragedy. And my heart weeps for thee. La donna e mobile - !" he started to sing, before Riker stood up and approached, menacingly.
"We don't want your pity, Q," Riker snapped, "Frankly, I don't think we need it. We're fine."
"Oh, but you do!" Q mused, stroking his beard, "Lieutenant Commander Data...shunned by the woman he loves because she doesn't believe him capable of emotion."
"That is a correct assumption," Data responded quickly, "I have neither the capacity nor sufficient hardware to take on the appearance of human emotions, or to support them. At this time, I would do Miss Ya - " He paused, dead in his tracks, cutting himself off before exposing the relationship to his senior officers. "That is to say, I would do parties involved more harm than good if I were to assume that I were indeed capable of returning her feelings."
Picard glanced up, incredulously, first at Q, and then at Data.
"Mmfh, mm-mm mmmm mmmmgh mmm mmm-mmmng mmm!" Picard mumbled, against the zipper-lips that Q had granted him.
Q sighed, snapped his fingers, and the zippers at Picard's mouth disappeared.
"Thank you," Picard responded, nodding to Q, and then he glanced up at Data. "Lieutenant Commander, will you please tell me what the hell he is talking about?"
Data arched an eyebrow, twitched slightly, and responded, his golden eyes as cold as ever.
"I will not, sir," he responded, "As the details are not relevant to the subject at hand, and as I have been informed that it is the...desire of other parties that these events be left forgotten."
Picard opened his mouth to respond, but raised a palm to his face and sighed.
"Nevertheless, dear Data, your attachment to this...mystery girl, ooh! It's slowly, steadily eating away at that wonderful, positronic brain of yours!" Q giggled, dancing around Picard, "I wonder who it could be, Jean-Luc? The lovely Mrs. Data...hmm...who could it be?"
"Just get on with this!" Picard snapped.
"You!" Q continued, motioning towards Riker, "You gallivanting rogue, you! Will Riker, doubtlessly the man with the largest collection of women's underwear in the galaxy since James T. Kirk himself decorating your trophy room! But, alas! Our gallant hero, too, is stricken with the love bug! You've gone and fallen for the lovely Miss Troi, haven't you?"
"Q," Picard snapped, "We all did things under the influence of the drug. Surely, if Mister Riker and Miss Troi experienced any...closeness...it was the result of polywater, and I will not fault him for - "
"Nothing happened, sir," Riker interrupted, as if he were bothered by the fact, "Nothing happened at all. I was in Engineering."
"The bold, daring Mister Riker!" Q grinned with glee, "How bravely he carried off his faithful love into the sunset...only to drop her on her head, on a biobed in sickbay, rather than allowing himself the sweet caress of release, and giving in to that primal, primitive, true love, trivial by omnipotent standards of course, that the two of you share. Did she seem...displeased with you, Commander?"
Riker swallowed, nervously and embarassedly, and then he nodded.
"She did," he snapped, "That's our business. What does this matter to you?"
"Your business?" Q cackled, "Well, of course! Business! What is she to you, Riker, but another notch on that very, very notchy belt of yours? It's not like, in the long run, she really matters. I mean, do any of them?"
"Q, that is ENOUGH!" Picard bellowed, watching Commander Riker's face turn redder and redder, and watching his fists clench, his knuckles getting whiter and whiter. "Commander Riker demonstrated considerable control and willpower," Picard answered, "And I applaud him for having done so."
"You would," Q grinned, "Although...I doubt it was willpower that kept the flames of love from fanning between you and the dear Doctor Crusher. I'm fairly certain it was ignorance."
That pulled on a heartstring. As Riker watched in surprise, the captain lunged, and Q teleported harmlessly out of the way. Picard was heaving breaths, and was glaring furiously at Q, who had reappeared near one of the turbolifts.
"I'm going to do you all a great favor," Q explained, "I'm so used to seeing you as bold, brave adventurers...not the tiny, pathetic beings that your emotional attachments to these females have caused you to become. I'm going to send you a gift."
"You will return my crew to me at once!" Picard snapped.
"I will," Q mused, "And then some. But...your attachments to Miss...hmm, to Miss Data, let's call her...to Miss Troi, and Miss Crusher, have caused you all a great deal of trouble. I'll make sure they never bother you again."
Before Picard could speak a word of protest, Q had snapped his fingers, and then he was gone, in a flash of light. Lieutenants Yar, Worf, and LaForge were returned to the bridge, each to their respective stations, functioning as if nothing had happened, as was Counselor Troi. They all looked up, though, at the sight of Picard standing near the front of the room, sweating, and at the sight of Riker, red-faced and furious. As Troi was about to voice concern, Riker dashed over to where she was seated, and crouched, so that he could speak to her at eye level. His eyes were wild and worried, and his heart was moving a mile a minute.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, concerned, "Did Q harm you? At all?"
The stormclouds parted slightly, but were still thick in her mind, and she crossed her arms, looking up at him in frustration.
"Will," she explained, "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
"He was here," Picard explained, glancing up towards Data, and then at Riker. "Commander Riker, Mister Data, and I were the only members of the bridge crew that he appeared to address."
Tasha immediately flew her hands over the tactical console, punching and dialing in commands. "Bridge to Security," she barked, "Intruder alert!"
"Belay that!" Picard groaned, "I...want a meeting of the senior staff. No...not all the senior staff. Let's keep this small. Commander Riker, Lieutenant Commander Data, Lieutenant Yar. My Ready Room."
"Sir," Data protested, "We will shortly arrive at Starbase Twelve to accept crew members transferred from the USS Rorshach. Perhaps we should wait until after we - "
"Now, damnit!" Picard spat, grumpily, disappearing into the room with Riker following closely behind him. Tasha followed, glancing a little confusedly back at Data. Data did not even meet her glance, but followed her into the room, as the doors hissed shut.