A pall had fallen over the clusters of people gathered in Ten-forward, and the somber group of bridge officers seated around a long table gave off no different feeling from the general malaise. Riker's attempts to lighten the mood had failed, and the seven crewmates ate mostly in silence.
"Everyone on board must know about our mission," said Deanna, spooning up the last of a clear broth soup. "The mood is very tense."
"Psych problems," Geordi added. Everyone nodded – it was bad luck to even joke about the dark implications of those words. "It's bad enough to head to a mission where you might have to fire a phaser."
"It's an enemy you can't shoot at," finished Tasha. Her sandwich was mostly picked at, scarcely eaten. "How do you fight something you can't identify?"
"No one said we were going there to fight," replied Will levelly. His expression was cool, but his plate of stew was also mostly untouched.
Wesley touched his mother's arm. "Mom, I have to get back to work on my physical sciences project. It's due in three days." He was the only one who had eaten heartily; his dinner and desert plates were clean.
Crusher nodded to him, and Wesley rose from his chair. "We're going to go," Beverly said. "Good night, everyone. Good luck tomorrow." She got up from the table and followed Wesley from the room.
"I might as well head out, too," said Geordi, pushing back his chair. "I'm pulling a double shift to check the navigational deflector and sensor arrays. Once we're in the vicinity of that red super giant, we can't afford to have those systems malfunction." Geordi stood and pushed his chair under the table. "It's gonna be a long night." He waved and stepped down to the exit.
"The Tsiolkowsky must have collected some interesting information about the collapsing star," Data offered. "Perhaps some of it will prove valuable."
"Way to look on the bright side, Data," replied Riker. "Keep up that attitude tomorrow – we'll need it." Will turned to Deanna. "Care for a friendly chess game?"
She nodded. "Sounds good. I need something to clear my mind. Beating you should help lift my spirits."
"We'll see about that," Will countered. "Excuse us." They rose and walked up to the windows of Ten-forward, sitting down again at a two-top with a 3-D chess set.
Back at the table, Data turned to Tasha. "You have consumed very little of your dinner. Are you experiencing a loss of appetite due to heightened anticipation of our mission tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I'm nervous because I feel like I can't adequately prepare to secure the ship. I don't know what we're up against. The reports are very confusing." Tasha poked at her sandwich, but didn't otherwise move to eat any more of it.
"Would a game of chess help clear your mind?" Data asked.
"Against you? Not likely. I don't want to play Deanna, either. Chess is not my game. I prefer something physical."
Data nodded. "I have noticed that you use physical exercise as a method of alleviating stress."
Tasha furrowed her brow. "You have? When?"
"After our mission to Farpoint Station, you spent 2.6 hours rock climbing in the holodeck. Before the first evacuation drills, you sparred in an advanced jujitsu routine for 58 minutes. After the drills, you led two Tae-bo classes for 75 minutes apiece in holodeck four. Because these bouts of intense physical activity fell outside of your regular fitness routine, I surmised that you undertook them in reaction to stressful events that had occurred just prior, or just after."
Tasha's blue eyes were wide. "Data, that's amazing – and a little creepy. How did you know about all of that?"
"As part of my duties as chief of operations, I must analyze the energy output of all nonessential ship functions, including the holodecks. A human officer would most likely note only the time elapsed and total energy expended for any given day, while discarding the other, irrelevant information. I, however, am able to retain all of the non-relevant data." He hesitated. "That is creepy?"
Tasha still looked nonplussed, but shrugged it off. "No, it's not, I guess, not when you put it that way. And anyway, you're right; I like to work my body when I feel stressed out. It helps me relax." Tasha rested her chin on the back of her hand. "I've noticed that you tend to imitate behavior that you've recently seen, like offering to play chess with me after Will and Deanna did." They both turned to look up at the top of the room, where the two in question were talking and smiling as they played, though the sound of their conversation did not reach Tasha's ears.
"That is true. It is a technique that works for establishing contextual guidelines for future interactions. I prefer to experiment immediately, once I have defined a set of limits."
Tasha shook her head. Sometimes it was exhausting, talking to Data. Suddenly, she realized that she had stopped worrying about the impending mission. A little smile brought out her dimples. "What else have you noticed about me?" She asked lightly.
"While several of our shipmates cut their hair at four- to six-week intervals, you cut and shave your hair approximately every three weeks," Data offered.
"That's true; I do. I don't like it to get very long." Tasha pointed to Data's head. "You keep your hair slightly long in back, and it's never out of place."
"I employ a hairbrush. You paint your eyes and lips before bridge duty, but never your fingernails."
"You use both hands at ops, but you favor your left."
"You never wear jewelry off-duty."
"You never use contractions."
"Your ears stick out slightly, in a way that is very . . . Tasha-esque."
That pulled her up short. She'd never heard him use her first name before. "Data, you can't notice any of those things by looking at files."
"Agreed," replied Data.
"You can only tell them by looking at me," Tasha continued.
"Also true."
They looked at each other for several moments.
"Sometimes, I catch you looking at me for a long time," Tasha's voice was lower now, and quieter, "almost staring."
"'Catch' implies that I do so covertly. I do not," replied Data. He had also modulated his voice to match her quiet volume and lower pitch.
"Well, why do you do it?" Tasha was looking into his eyes. They weren't just gold; there was also beige and blue in the iris, depending on how the light hit them. His eyes looked so serene, under thick lashes that were pale and dark at the same time. The serenity was gone in the next moment, as a puzzled look crossed Data's brow. He looked down, and away, and back at Tasha.
"I am imitating you."
Tasha was taken aback. She quickly played back in her mind all of the times that she could remember over the past two months when her eyes had met his penetrating gaze. Come to think, she did spend a lot of time looking at him when she wasn't doing other things: his eyes, his face, his hands, the way his uniform fit his . . .
"Oh," she said aloud.
"Should I stop?" asked Data.
"No," replied Tasha, "I like it."
Will and Deanna, walking past on their way out of the room, presently joined them at the table.
"Who won?" asked Tasha.
"Who do you think?" replied Will.
Data and Tasha looked at each other. "Counselor Troi," they said in unison.
Will looked from one to the other and gave a shrug. "Goodnight," he simply said, and walked to the doors.
Deanna smiled like the cat that had gotten the cream. "Goodnight," she said sweetly, and stepped down as well.
Tasha sighed wearily. "I should go back to my quarters and go over the security details for tomorrow."
"As you wish. Goodnight, Lt. Yar."
"Goodnight, Data."