Disconnection
Stardate 44803.2
(Saturday, 21 October 2367, 04:17 hours, ship's time)
"Have they made contact yet?" I asked Data by way of a greeting as I entered his quarters in the wee hours of a Saturday morning. I could have been really, really early for that week's Saturday Session of music theory and technique, but for the fact that I was wearing sweats and flip-flops and the "Sun-Sand-Surf Santa Cruz" t-shirt I'd purchased months before when my friends and I had spent the day on the California town's boardwalk.
Okay, sometimes I showed up for those music sessions in t-shirts, and once in a while in sweatpants, but never in flip-flops.
In any case, Data didn't seem to notice my attire. "As of seventeen minutes, six seconds ago, they have not," he answered me. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?"
"In order to have nightmares, one has to be able to actually sleep. I haven't… I can't. I think I'm at the point where I'm so afraid of what I might dream, that I keep waking myself up." I moved past him to slouch onto his couch. "Pretty pathetic, don't you think?"
"I disagree. I believe it shows how much you care."
"You wouldn't say that if you were living inside my brain."
"Perhaps not." He seemed unsure of how to help me, and for a long few minutes we were both quiet, but it wasn't the comfortable silence of the times when we were working or reading in tandem, as often happened after video nights when I would linger, catching up on reading for school while he busied himself at his console. Instead it was the awkward silence of two people who were more than merely friends, far less than lovers, and barely beginning to navigate the gulf between the two.
"I'm sorry," I said, breaking the silence. "I called you because I was going crazy alone in my quarters, and I knew you'd be awake. I brought my padd. Can I – may I just curl up here and read for a while? You don't need to talk to me, or anything. I just need to be… not-alone."
"Of course, Zoe," he said. "Although the pallor of your skin and the visible 'dark circles' beneath your eyes would imply that tonight is not the first night you have gone without rest."
"It's not," I said. "Well, not entirely. Until they missed check-in, I was sleeping okay… if fitfully. It's weird –" I interrupted myself. "I used to revel in having the house – or my quarters – all to myself – but now I'm terrified of the solitude."
"It is likely that other stressors are creating the anxiety you feel, and that your mother's absence is exacerbating the situation."
I peered at him through narrowed eyes but when I spoke my tone was a teasing one, "You've been hanging around Counselor Troi way too much."
He ignored my snark, apparently taking my statement at face-value. "I have been 'in session' with the counselor on more than one occasion in addition to the times when we are on duty together on the bridge or on away missions." Or maybe not, because he added. "I find her insights into the emotional states of young women with 'creative' personalities remarkably helpful."
I took the bait. "Oh, you hang around with a lot of young women, do you?"
But he'd learned to read me well enough to catch the insecurity beneath my sarcastic tone. "You are quite aware that I was referring to you, Zoe."
I flashed him a tired grin. "Yeah, I know." But I couldn't keep up the happy, plucky pretense. "When Mom said she was leading an away mission, I was so proud of her… I mean… cultural anthropology is a 'soft' science. This isn't usual for her."
"Her expertise was needed for this assignment," he said. "It is one of the reasons she was selected."
"She mentioned something about a commendation for her leadership when you were all off playing Robin Hood with Q, as well."
"That is true," he confirmed. "Your mother, Lt. Barclay, Lt D'Sora, and Chief O'Brien all demonstrated strengths and skills beyond their typical duty assignments during that time. However, I would not classify our… excursion… as 'playing' anything. There was very real jeopardy."
"Is there real jeopardy for Mom and Reg and Jenna right now?" I asked softly. "Is that why they're two days late on their check-in? Mom made it seem like this was going to be a quick jaunt to confirm the age of some ruins, offer insight on the culture involved, and head back."
"I would prefer not to speculate," was Data's gently offered reply. "Zoe, your mother has the same training as any other officer. If she does not show that side of herself to you…"
"I know," I interrupted. "I know she does. She just downplays it a lot. But knowing that doesn't make me worry any less." I took a breath and then asked him. "Aren't you worried?"
His expression was thoughtful. "I cannot worry," he said. "However, I am concerned." His focus – and tone – sharpened slightly. "I cannot speak further with you about an active mission, Zoe. Please attempt to relax. I will inform you as soon as the away team has checked in."
I stared at him for a long moment, seeing the officer overlay the man, and oddly, that slight shift in tone made me feel safer. "I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have pushed for information."
He opened his mouth to answer me, but then something pinged on his console. "There is no need to apologize," he said. "I understand both your curiosity and your concern. I must finish my task now." He favored me with the merest hint of a smile and added, "Make yourself at home."
I smiled back at him, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I slid my feet out of my flip-flops, picked up my padd, and repositioned myself on the couch so that I was laying on my back with my head resting against the arm, and started to read.
It might have been the comforting sound of Data's quiet interaction with the ship's computer; it might have been the fact that Spot had joined me on the couch and was purring softly near my ear; it might even have just been that I was too tired to fear what I might dream, but I found myself nodding off in the middle of a chapter.
(=A=)
I woke in a bed that wasn't mine, but was still familiar, to the also-familiar, and even somewhat missed, feeling of Spot kneading my hair.
"Really, Catling," I told her as I tried to disentangle her, "Macramé is so twenty-third century."
Her response? She floofed her tail in my face and darted from the room. I, on the other hand, made my way to Data's living quarters at a much more leisurely pace, first peeking around the door to see if anyone else was around.
"Ah, you are awake," he greeted me when I emerged fully into the room. "I did not believe the position you were lying in on the couch was an optimal one for the health of your neck and spine, so when you reached deep sleep I moved you to the bed."
"You carried me to bed and tucked me in." It wasn't a question; I had a dim recollection of being in his arms, though I'm pretty sure I hadn't been entirely awake at the time. "Did I ask you to kiss me goodnight, or did I dream that?" I had an equally dim memory of him giving me a quick buss on the lips.
"You asked…"
"And you complied?"
"You were still mostly asleep. I determined that it was the easiest way to keep you that way and ensure that you rested."
"Better submit a correction to whoever owns the copyright for Snow White," I teased lightly. "The prince's kiss is supposed to wake the sleeping princess, not send her deeper into dreamland."
"I will make a note of that," he said. "If you are hungry, please help yourself to the replicator."
I hesitated for a few seconds, trying to determine whether I was hungry, and if so, how much. "What time is it?" I asked him. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"
"It is eleven thirty-seven," he said.
"So, I basically arrived hours-early for our Saturday Session, and then slept through a good chunk of it," I observed wryly. "How 'bout I run home and change and then you come with me for lunch – well, brunch, really – in Ten-Forward? That is, if you're willing to forgive me for missing my music lesson?"
"That would be acceptable," he said. "I will meet you at your quarters in twenty minutes."
"Thanks, Data." I said, referring both to his guarding of my sleep, and to the change in our regularly scheduled Saturday. I retrieved my padd from near the couch, and made for the door, then stopped, walked back into the room and around to his side of his workstation, and said, "It just struck me. Maybe it's a metaphoric waking up rather than a literal one, in Snow White. I mean, I keep discovering – waking up to - new and unexpected layers of awesome in my handsome prince." As he had done to me the night before, I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Barely a whisper. Less, even, than when I sometimes kissed him on the cheek. "See you in twenty."
He was gracious enough to refrain from pointing out that I was down to eighteen minutes, or that he was not, in fact, a prince of any kind.
I was pretty certain, however, that both things were running through his mind.
(=A=)
Stardate 44810.08
(Monday, 23 October 2367, 16:21 hours, ship's time)
"Any word about your mom yet," Josh asked from where he was setting up some convoluted card game on the coffee table in my mother's quarters. We were supposed to be studying, but that had lasted all of twenty minutes before the boys had suggested playing a game instead.
I answered from in front of the food slot. "Nothing. They're four days overdue, and at this point I've asked Data for updates so often that he's almost managed to become annoyed."
"Zo', you're eliciting emotional responses from an android? Color me impressed."
"Commander Data doesn't have emotions?" Rryl asked before I could twit Josh for his comment.
"Definitely not human ones," I said. "Personally, I think he has his own version, but that's just opinion, and you didn't hear it from me." The replicator pinged, and I retrieved the bowl of popcorn it had delivered. As I carried it over to join my friends on the floor around the coffee table, I said. "Anyway, the last time I asked him if he'd heard anything he informed me that my 'continued requests for information were beginning to negatively impact the efficiency' of his work. Then he made me promise not to ask him more than once a day. I'm pretty sure his next step was going to be making me write 'I will not beg Data for information he does not have' a thousand times on a white board."
"Wow," Dana said. "I never thought I'd see the day when Commander Data would even consider punishing you."
"Oh, it wouldn't be a 'punishment,'" I snarked. "It would be an 'object lesson' or a 'useful reminder.'"
"So, when did he make you promise?" she asked.
"Last night after dinner," I answered. I helped myself to some of the popcorn, and used the time to chew, swallow, and wash it all down with a swig of cola to survey the array of cards. "So, how does this game work?" I asked.
"'This game'" Josh began, "Is called Objects and Obfuscations, and you're going to love it."
"You really will, Zoe," Dana agreed. "You get to make stuff up."
Rryl took pity on me and began explaining the game. "Here is how it works," he said. "We are all members of an explorers' club, and we are in competition to visit distant planets and bring back exotic artifacts, interesting anecdotes, and other evidence of our travels. Or at least, that is what we wish one another to believe. The reality is that we do all this without ever leaving our space station. We really just visit different shops and restaurants on the station and collect items we think will support the stories we make up."
"The cards," Josh continued, "represent the different stores and other locations where we can pick up what we need. The two stacks in the middle are the Explorers' Clubhouse and the Zocalo Marketplace. The cards arranged around them are the art gallery, the bar, the clothing boutique, the news kiosk, the replimat, and the souvenir stand. Everything is one move away from either of the middle decks, and one move away from the nearest deck in the ring."
"It'll make more sense once we start playing," Dana said reassuringly. "But there are a few more stacks of cards. These over here," she said, gesturing to six single cards arrayed in a column, "represent the planets we're supposed to visit. Earth, Vulcan, Bajor, the Klingon Homeworld, Romulus, and Cardassia. They're all weighted differently, so you get fewer points for an adventure on Earth than you do for going to Romulus, for example."
"And finally," Rryl added, "you must take care to acquire all your necessary items and reach the clubhouse before the dastardly Doctor Nebula finds you."
"Okay, okay," I said. "I have two questions. One is, who came up with this game, and the other is… why don't we do this more often?"
The tone in the room shifted almost immediately, with my three friends exchanging awkward glances with each other. Finally, Dana said softly, "Zoe, the three of us – and sometimes Annette, too – have been 'doing this.' You just haven't been available." She must have seen the defensive expression cross my face because she reached out and touched my hand. "Zo', you haven't. You were away all summer break, and then, well, we know what happened on Starbase Twelve."
"And since then," Josh said, taking over for his girlfriend, "you've been super busy and distracted. Voice lessons, cello lessons, quartet rehearsal, now the play, swimming with Ray every Sunday… and you've kind of been hanging out with Data a lot."
"Do not think we are judging," Rryl said. "It must be very difficult to have a crush on an officer who also acts as a teacher."
"It's not exactly a crush," I blushed. "But it isn't really anything more, either. I mean… we're friends, and… we kind of… fit together? I guess? But… I mean… Data would never do… nothing remotely inappropriate has happened."
"We know," Dana said, flashing me her warmest smile. "Really, we do. But we miss you, and we'd really rather hear the truth from you, than all the rumors coming from people who don't even actually know you."
"I haven't meant to be distant," I said. "I just… I'm going through a lot, and there's stuff I'm not allowed to talk about." I took a breath and drank more cola. "Okay," I said, forcing my brightest grin. "Are we finished with the touchy-feely portion of the afternoon? Because I'd really like to play this game while I still remember everything y'all told me."
We shared laughter, and we had a good couple of hours playing the game, and when Dana won both the first and second times we played, I was truly happy for her.
(=A=)
Stardate 44813.69
(Tuesday, 24 October 2367, 23:57 hours, ship's time)
Sickbay was always a little bit creepy in the middle of the night. I sat in the chair someone had placed near my mother's bio-bed and tried to lose myself in the rhythmic pulsing of the monitors, and the soft sound of her breathing, but I kept wanting to cry or throw things or both.
I'd known something was wrong when Data had showed up late to rehearsal for Romeo and Juliet earlier that evening. Oh, he was only playing the apothecary, but he'd also been acting as the assistant director. He had entered the auditorium at a brisker pace than I'd ever seen him use, and gone directly to Dr. Crusher's side, whispering something into her ear. Then she had left at a run, and he had come to me.
"Zoe, the captain wishes to speak with you," he'd said, keeping his voice low. "Will you accompany me to his ready room, please?"
I don't remember responding to him. I don't remember the walk to the turbolift or being on the bridge for all of five seconds, or even arriving in the ready room. I don't even remember what Captain Picard said to me. I only know that he told me my mother's team had returned, that she was critically injured, and that she was in sickbay.
I remember his face and his voice, but not the specific words of his reassurances. Likewise, I remember Counselor Troi and Data sitting on either side of me on his couch, and I remember tears, uncontrollable tears, tears of relief that she wasn't dead, of fear about how bad her injuries might be, and of pain, on my mother's behalf.
I remember standing up, wanting to bolt from the room, and none of them allowing it.
The counselor had tried to pull me into a hug, but I'd turned to Data, and his arms had come around me, holding me against his chest. He, also, had given me reassurances that Mom would come through this injury just as she had her last. He hadn't let go until I'd sobbed myself out. He'd kissed my head then, and I was myself enough, at that point, to both feel and hear the slight reactions of both the captain and the counselor to that gesture.
Data escorted me to sickbay, assuring me that Counselor Troi would be available as soon as she'd checked in with D'Sora and Barclay, and that if I felt he could not provide me with adequate support, I should tell him. I'd been there since then… about four hours… except for some breaks to use the bathroom. I'd come back from one of the breaks to find the chair.
Data, Counselor Troi, and Nurse Ogawa had each checked on me a couple of times, and Dr. Crusher had sat with me for a half an hour after she'd explained that Mom had taken a phaser blast to the chest and shoulder when locals on Maarklin III had objected to Starfleet's presence at the dig site. I was still foggy on the details – something about an argument between religious and scientific factions on the planet, a protest that had escalated, and people firing hand weapons from the crowd. All of that had resulted in their four-day extension of planetside time.
"The phaser burns themselves are not that bad," the doctor had informed me. "But the impact caused your mother to lose her footing, and she hit her head. Barclay and D'Sora did everything they were supposed to, but she's unconscious, and will probably remain so until morning."
"Will… will she be… herself when she wakes up?"
"I can't detect any permanent brain damage," she'd told me. "I think part of her current state is due to a local treatment being used, but as far as I can tell, she'll be fine.
"Jenna and Reg – were they hurt, too?" I didn't really care so much about the blonde security specialist, but Reg Barclay was a decent guy, and he'd helped my friends and me with holodeck projects more than once.
"Reg was caught by one of the shots as well," she told me. "But he managed to keep his feet. Jenna was unharmed."
"Seriously?" I wasn't sure if I was impressed or annoyed. "Seriously?" I had repeated. Oh Annoyed. Absolutely. "You don't think it's a little ironic that the security officer is the one member of an away team to not be injured?" I'd crossed my arms over my chest and turned away from her.
The doctor was also the mother of a teenager and had likely chalked my response up to teenaged angst. Still, she said, "Sometimes it happens that way. Jenna probably feels awful about it. I'm going to leave you alone now," she said. "Poke your head in my office if you need anything. And talk to her. She needs to know you're here."
I'd kept my back to her, but I'd still answered. "Okay."
Hours went by. It was nearly midnight, and the lights had been dimmed. I was tired and hungry, but I was also loathe to leave, so I scooted my chair closer, held Mom's right hand in both of mine, and began telling her about the things in my life that had changed in the week she'd been gone. "I did something stupid, Mom." I said. "I couldn't sleep the other night, and I went to Data's… I brought my padd and I started to read, but you were already overdue, and I was worried, and I fell asleep, and he put me in his bed."
I felt like someone was watching me, but when I looked around, I didn't see anyone within hearing distance, so I just lowered my voice a little, and told her about Data kissing me goodnight when I'd asked, and about returning the gesture the next morning. "It was a nothing kiss, Mom. The kind of kiss I'd have given any of the guys from Dad's orchestra, you know. So… why do I feel like this one… mattered?"
The only answer was the continued pulsing of the monitors tracking her heartbeat and respiration, so I just adjusted myself in the chair, and kept hold of her hand.
(=A=)
I must have dozed off, because I woke with my head resting on my arms on the side of the bio-bed, and a gentle touch to my shoulder.
I was expecting Data or the counselor, but it was neither. It was an older woman, who was faintly familiar, though I didn't know why. "Child, you're exhausted," came her voice, warm and concerned. She turned her black eyes first on me, and then on my mother. "She heard you, dear," the woman said. "She's resting now, and she wants you to rest, too, but she'll see you in the morning."
"You're not part of the medical staff," I said, stating the so-very-obvious. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet, dear, though I've heard of you. My daughter is your counselor."
I took a better look at the woman. Her face was careworn and, unlike most of the holo-pics I'd seen of her, had been scrubbed mostly free of makeup. Her black eyes seemed to exude sympathy. Her hair was down, and slightly unkempt, and her clothes her expensive, but again, far less ornate than what she typically wore in media depictions.
"You're Ambassador Troi?"
"I am," she said, sparing me the recital of the rest of her titles. "You may call me Lwaxana, if I may call you Zoe," she offered. "Deanna tells me you're a connoisseur of tea. Why don't you take me somewhere where we can share a cup?"
It crossed my mind to object, but I was pretty sure she'd win any argument I made, so I just said. "There's a lounge around the corner. The view isn't great – mostly the medical staff sends family members there in the middle of the night – but the replicator seems to have better than average tea production abilities."
She favored me with a smile that was so much like the counselor's it was truly uncanny. "That sounds wonderful," she said. "Lead on, my dear."
I stood up and pressed a kiss to my mother's forehead, then moved away from the bed, and out of sickbay. I'd been diligent about wearing my comm-badge when my mother was away, just in case word had come when I was in class or rehearsal – but now, I knew, it would be beneficial if anyone needed to find me because she woke up. "Sure," I said. "This way."
We went to the small lounge nestled into one of the curves of corridor outside sickbay, retrieved mint tea from the replicator and sat on facing couches. Gently, so much so that I almost didn't realize she was doing it, the counselor's mother steered me into a conversation about how this was my mother's first away mission, or at least the first one that I'd been aware of, and how I'd been so worried I couldn't sleep.
"I used to worry like that about Ian – Deanna's father – when he was alive," she said. "Eventually, I learned to find constructive ways to spend the hours when I couldn't sleep." She pinned me with her gaze. "You'll have to discover coping mechanisms of your own, child, if you're planning a life with an officer someday."
"But I'm not –" I began. "I mean…"
She went on, almost blithely. "It's a challenge, of course, because you've fallen for a man who is singularly unique and may not even have discernable emotions."
"May not have…" I said. "You heard me talking to my mother?"
She shook her head. "No, child, and I didn't read your mind either. Doing so would be the height of rudeness, especially as we hadn't met properly. You're broadcasting your feelings for the android at such a mental volume that I'm surprised every telepath in the sector isn't demanding that you be taught a mental block."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
But she went on, still in her breezy tone. "Not that anyone would actually need telepathy to figure it out. I saw the two of you in that Ten-Forward lounge the other day. You weren't even touching but it was obvious the pair of you were vibrating in similar frequencies."
"Well, one of us might have been vibrating… a little… but Data certainly wasn't…"
"Oh, it's definitely not just you, dear. Mr. Data may believe he's a man of mystery, but for someone made of wires and plastic and bits of string, he's got surprisingly obvious body language. Not every observation requires telepathy, you know, though of course, it does help to find the truth of things."
"I had no idea it was that obvious."
"Ah, young love… Those who are in the middle of it always think no one notices, when actually, everyone does. Enjoy it while you can, my dear. Eventually the excitement at forging that first connection fades, and before too long that first blush will be a distant memory and you'll be faced with losing the people you love to bizarre rituals that cut a life in half for no good reason."
I wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it didn't seem to matter. Somehow, I sensed that she wasn't really talking to me, but using my presence to be able to think out loud. I listened to her babble softly about someone named Timicin and turning sixty, and as she talked, I began to drift, going so far as to stretch out on the couch, as no one was around.
I don't know how long she talked, or how long after she stopped talking that we stayed there in companionable silence. I wasn't asleep, but I wasn't really conscious of the passage of time, either. I do know that Data arrived at some point and had a whispered conversation with the ambassador. I heard her say something about taking off his shirt which confused me, though his wholly audible answer did not: "I will stay with her until the doctor comes to find her."
Lwaxana paused near me before she left, whispered for me to take care, and caressed my forehead in that most maternal of gestures, and then Data did something that honestly surprised me (though it also made Lwaxana's words make sense). He removed his uniform jacket, revealing the solid black t-shirt that he wore beneath it, and laid it over me like a blanket. "I had thought to escort you back home," he said. "But Ambassador Troi suggested you would prefer to stay here, near your mother. Go to sleep, Zoe. I will be here."
He didn't need to tell me twice.
(=A=)
Stardate 44814.43
(Wednesday, 25 October 2367, 06:29 hours, ship's time)
As Lwaxana Troi had said, my mother was awake before I was the next morning. Dr. Crusher had come to find me just after the day shift had begun, and while she had been speaking, I had been trying not to be too obvious about watching Data put his uniform back together. The night before, I hadn't noticed that his creator had given him the illusion of surprisingly well-defined biceps for a man who would have been of average height and build if he'd been human. I also hadn't noticed that he looked really good in black... but then Starfleet 'gold' wasn't anyone's best color.
"I must return to duty," he told us, directing the additional information to me that I was welcome to call upon him if needed, and that he would not expect me in class that day.
I thanked him, and turned back to the doctor, who was explaining that Mom would be kept in sickbay for the rest of the day and was on light duty for the rest of the week but was otherwise fine. Gotta love living in the future.
My mother and I had a tearful reunion, but the tears were happy ones. She promised me she wouldn't get seriously injured again for at least a year, and I pretended to believe her. I swore that I wouldn't be a nuisance to certain gold-toned second officers the next time she was on an away mission, and she pretended to believe me.
(=A=)
A day and a half later, as I was heading home for lunch between classes, I ran into Counselor Troi exiting our quarters. "Hello, Zoe," she said. "How are you?"
"I'm… okay," I said. "I mean, I'm still a little behind on sleep, but… is my mother okay?" I changed the subject.
"She's fine," the counselor answered. "I was just here checking in with her."
"And your mother?" I asked
"She's… better." Counselor Troi gave me her warmest smile. "She said she sat with you a while the other night. Thank you for being patient with her."
I shrugged. "Actually, she was really nice. She spent more time talking at me than she did talking to me. I think she just needed a sounding board."
Thoughtfully, she agreed, "That may be so." Then she smiled at me. "I'm sorry I had to cancel our session this week, but if you have time before your next class, I'm headed to Ten-Forward for lunch."
"I was going to see if Mom needed anything."
"When I left her, she said she was going to go back to bed," she said, "which is the best thing for her."
I glanced at the door, but I knew the counselor was probably right. "I could eat," I said. "Actually, I'm pretty hungry, but you should know I'm not likely to talk about anything but being nervous about taking the college boards on Tuesday. I'm even this close," and I held up my hand with my thumb and forefinger practically touching, "to cancelling video night with Data so I can cram."
"I'm sure you'll be fine," she said. We entered a turbolift. "We haven't talked about your future plans in a while. Are you still planning to audition for the Martian Academy?"
As we exited the lift and walked toward the lounge, I explained. "I'm still going to audition, but… the more experience I have with theater, the more I think I want to do something a little less limiting. And then, between Ed's class and Federation History, and all the fuss with the Keep Earth Human League back on Starbase Twelve, I'm kind of getting more interested in politics and social change."
We found a table and sat down. "Politics, really?"
"I wouldn't want to run for office, ever, but being here on this ship, meeting people like your mother… I read her book, by the way. Underneath all the flouncing and frivolity, she's pretty amazing."
"Yes," Deanna agreed. "She is. So, politics and social change interest you, but you don't want to even consider Starfleet?"
I gave her a look. "I can't believe people are still asking me that." We ordered food – a sort of scampi made out of a Betazoid shellfish called oscoid, and Blue Leaf salad - and I continued. "I know it disappoints my mother that I have zero interest in following her footsteps, but I know myself well enough to know that much structure – rules and uniforms and all that – would stifle me. And it's just… not what I want to do."
"What do you want to do?"
"Not have to choose?" I teased. "I told Geordi once that I didn't want to be an idiot. That's what I mean when I say The Martian is limiting. All they do is crank out professional musicians. It seems stupid to have spent basically my whole life focused on cello and then decide not to pursue it, but…"
"But you haven't," she said. "Zoe, I've read the resume you gave to Beverly. You've had theatrical experience all your life. You spent half your summer doing it. Why aren't you looking at theater schools?"
"Truth?" I asked.
"Always," she said.
"That's limiting, too. Just… not as." I sat back a little as our food was delivered, and then took a few bites, using the time to form my answer. "I love performing, but even though I have no interest in Starfleet, that doesn't mean being around Mom, you, Geordi, Data, hasn't affected me. I don't want to be some vapid entertainer; I want to do something that matters. Make the universe a better place, and all that. I mean, look at Gran – she traveled to all these different worlds as a civilian first contact expert and used folk music to form connections."
"So, if you could design your own course of study, it would incorporate theater and politics and social justice?"
"And music, because I don't want to not-play, I just don't necessarily want to do it as a career." I'd never stated it so plainly before. Then I grinned. "Also, literature, and philosophy, and, and, and…"
We laughed together, then shifted the conversation to much lighter topics for the rest of our meal.
(=A=)
Stardate 44831.84
(Tuesday, 31 October 2367, 14:56 hours, ship's time.)
It turned out that the video night I hadn't cancelled after all was the last time I saw Data until the following Tuesday. He cancelled our tutorial on Friday because of some visiting ambassador with whom was working on a project involving the people of Peliar Zel, which planet was currently the focus of the ship's orbit. I cancelled that week's Saturday Session, so I could have more prep time. He had given us all homework to be done on our own, since he'd been needed on the bridge on Monday.
By the time I'd completed my battery of tests, I was tired, wired, and hungry. There had been common tests for the major university systems, and supplemental ones for specific schools. I was doing a music supplemental, while Rryl, for example, was determined to follow his father into Starfleet, so he had a special exam for that. The whole thing began at 08:00 hours and continued through 14:30, though there had been breaks, of course.
Data had contacted me the night before to wish me luck – I was pretty sure Josh, Dana, and Rryl had received similar messages – and invite me to a late lunch 'after the examinations have concluded,' but I'd asked if we could have tea that evening, after rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet, instead. I knew my friends and I would want the afternoon to decompress. (We ended up loading a laser tag program on one of the holodecks and blasting each other to smithereens for hours.)
We ran into Jenna D'Sora again, on the way to Data's quarters after rehearsal. We'd taken a detour to deck nine, so I could drop my padd at home, and she was leaving my quarters as we got there.
"Data," she greeted him first, but, I noticed, refrained from touching him this time. "Zoe. I was just with your mother."
I was already tired from the day – exams, laser tag, and rehearsal - and stressed over my mother, who wasn't bouncing back to her usual self since her injury, and even (still, always) over Lore, even though I'd mostly stopped having nightmares, and hadn't brought up the near-constant edge of fear that seemed to be coloring everything. Then, too, Jenna and I had rubbed each other the wrong way from day one, so it probably shouldn't have been surprising that my response was spoken without any thought.
"Why? Did you come to finish the job?"
"I… I'm not sure what you mean," she said, but she didn't let her eyes meet mine.
I saw something change in Data's eyes – a sharpening of focus I'd only glimpsed a couple of times before – and a hardening of his posture. Officer mode. Command mode. He spoke my name in a still, calm, voice, but I ignored him.
"I mean, you're a security officer and you were the only one of the three of you to come home uninjured. Weren't you supposed to protect them? Weren't you the one who should have been shot?"
From somewhere outside myself, I heard the words I was throwing at her, and was shocked at myself. That part of me recognized, however faintly, that Jenna was probably already beating herself up about that mission, but the part of me that was actually speaking was out of control.
"Zoe, I…" Jenna glanced at Data, and then back to me. "I'm sorry. I never meant for anyone to be hurt."
"Right," I snarked. "Of course, you didn't."
"Zoe." Data again. Slightly louder. More than a warning; an admonishment. It should have stopped me, but apparently his brother had been right. My mouth was going to get me in serious trouble someday. That day. "I do not believe you mean what you are saying. Perhaps you should apologize."
"Oh, right, take her side," I spit at him, even though he was quite obviously not taking sides at all. I turned back to Jenna. "Isn't your job supposed to be to take the blast when someone's aiming at you? Why didn't you?" I asked. "Or better yet, why didn't you just turn your phaser on yours-"
I was horrified by my own words, but I couldn't stop, so it's a good thing Data cut me off.
"Ms. Harris, you are out of line." Data's voice, raised just enough to cut through the white-cold numbness that had taken over my brain. "You will enter your quarters and remain there. Lt. D'Sora, I suggest you also return to quarters. If you wish to file a grievance against Ms. Harris, it would not be unwarranted."
I was pretty sure he meant that mostly for my benefit. Well… kind of sure. He'd never raised his voice to me before, and he hadn't addressed me by my last name since that teen brunch over a year before. Part of me wanted to apologize, but the other, darker, part that was taking control wouldn't let me.
I heard Jenna utter a soft, "Yes, sir," and walk off.
I lifted my eyes to Data's, but he'd gone completely cold. "Did you not hear me?" He is tone was level, reasonable, just a hint of forcefulness underlying the words. "Please remain in your quarters until otherwise notified," he said, restating the instruction.
I nodded, and backed into the door, which opened and let me through.
I didn't cry until it had closed behind me.
My mother looked up at me from her position on our couch, but whatever she saw in my expression made her hold her tongue. She gave me a look of comingled sympathy and worry.
I just muttered, "I'm going to bed," and bolted for my room. I'd never wanted a door I could slam shut more than at moment. Still, the quiet whooshing sound gave me my privacy. Collapsing onto my bed, I let the tears flow freely. I was hurt, embarrassed, mortified, apologetic, confused, and frightened, and those were just the feelings I had names for. I curled up in the darkened room and cried myself to sleep.
It wasn't even twenty-two hundred hours.
NOTES: Revised 10 March 2018. This chapter spans the episodes Half a Life and The Host. The away mission that Jenna, Reg, and Zoe's mother (Emily) go on is my own making. The game she and her friends play is a riff on CheapAss Games' Stuff and Nonsense and is great fun. I was part of the Kickstarter for it, but I think you can buy it on their website.
