I refuse to divulge at
which hour I write this note. Mostly because it's no longer
"tonight" but rather "tomorrow morning", and I
don't care to think on the unhealthy length of time I've vested into
finishing this project. Ladies and gentlemen...that's all
she wrote.
I plan on writing more of the Rorschach's adventures, some time soon, particularly an Alien-ST crossover story featuring the Rorschach new First Officer (Lieutenant Commander You-Know-Who!) in a leading role, along with the whole gang - Wright, Tatiyana, Karn, Cohl, and, of course, Maddox. Data will be back, as well. But...for the time being...
That's all, folks.
Kaiba-Kun - To answer your last questions, yes, the operation scene was major Deja Vu. And as for Fanfic 100, it's a challenge where every chapter or segment you write from any given mythos has to follow a set pattern - Beginnings, Middles, Ends, etc, all fit the requirements all the way up to the chapter I wrote called Lovers, which is where I decided to break with tradition and the challenge itself. The show had to go on, and the story no longer fit the premise of FF100. I may try it again someday...but not this day.
Furthermore, Kaiba-Kun, at this, the conclusion of this venture, I cannot help but admire the numerous times you've come to me with suggestions, reviews, and assistance. You are the sort of reader who every author deserves at least one of, and your timely reviews and their content has been invaluable to me.
Lastly...I wish to acknowledge assistance from a source outside of FF.N, and acknowledge the individual for whom this story was primarily composed, as many of my stories, songs, and poems are. This particular individual has been a constant source of encouragement, laughter, assistance, and motivation. She helped me to take characters who were new, and untested, and craft them into personas who I have come to greatly enjoy playing with, in literature. Wright, Karn, and especially Tatiyana benefited from this individual's assistance. Without her, and without the motivation that she granted me, this story would not have been completed, ever. xD I'm that lazy, folks. And so, you who know exactly who you are, thank you for putting up with me, for tolerating my rants and raves, for always being there when I needed a helping hand, and for being the best friend in the cosmos that any man, android, Vulcan, Orion, Deltan, omnipotent being, Tellarite, or Klingon could ever hope for. Period.
Thank you all for reading my story. I hope you've enjoyed the ride.
* * *
Epilogue
The soft accordion music in the Parisian cafe grated against Picard's ears, as the older officer sat in the cafe waiting for his new Operations officer to arrive. He'd asked Data to meet him here once the Rorschach had docked, and repairs had commenced. It had been three days already, and Data had contacted him earlier this evening to let him know that he would be available for a meeting. He'd also advised Picard, hastily, that he would accept the Operations position that was open on the Enteprise-E, much to Picard's delight.
He couldn't begin to marvel at what the android must have accomplished aboard the Rorschach. From the preliminary reports and briefings on the incident that were trickling through Starfleet Command, the Rorschach had been attacked by the Sutherland, had traversed the treacherous Pavel Nebula, punched its way through the Crystal Gorge, and halted the advance of a nearly omnipotent race of ethereal, destructive beings before they'd had the opportunity to reach, and destroy, Earth. If not for their efforts, 80% of the planet's population would have died. Starfleet owed Captain Maddox and Mister Data a great debt right now.
Maddox be damned, Picard thought to himself. He was growing impatient, and had been eagerly looking forward to meeting with Data again, listening to a few of the stories that Data promised to bring back. Picard had brought along a vintage bottle of Chateau Picard from his family's vineyards, just for the occasion. Data had been behaving erratically, mysteriously, as if there were something he was trying to keep from the captain this evening. He'd told Picard that he was bringing along a guest, and had asked the older captain to come alone. For what reason, Picard wasn't certain. He was just growing very flustered, very quickly. He motioned to the waitress nearby, who approached him quickly and nervously.
"Yes, Commander?" she stammered.
"Captain," Picard interrupted, "Four pips."
"Oh, right," the young woman commented, raising a hand to her lips, "Sorry."
"I'm expecting someone," Picard snapped, "Can you tell me if a Federation shuttle, from McKinley station, has arrived in this area recently?"
The young woman played nervously with her dark brown hair, and bit down on her lower lip.
"I'm sorry," she sighed, "The only person who'd really know is the city dockmaster."
"Really?" Picard replied, mock surprise thick in his voice, "Then perhaps you should contact the dockmaster and find out."
The brunette opened her mouth, about to argue the matter, when Picard leaned forward and glared, almost menacingly, at her.
"Now," he barked.
The young woman nodded and scurried off, just as Picard caught a glimpse of a Soong-type android stepping through the door nearby, in a black and gold duty jumpsuit. Picard mused to himself that the gold much better suited the android than red did, although Picard fully expected that after Data's recent endeavors, command would inevitably be in his future one day. Picard turned, to the waitress.
"Mademoiselle!" Picard called, "Mademoiselle, it's fine! As you were!"
The waitress darted back and forth for a moment, almost like a chicken sans tete, but eventually returned to serving drinks to patrons at the restaurant's bar. Data approached the table, a broad smile on his face, which was something most...uncustomary.
"I presume, Mister Data," Picard observed, "That you've come for a drink."
"I most certainly have," Data grinned. He dragged a chair from a nearby table over, next to his, immediately raising suspicion in the older Captain.
"Shall Captain Maddox be joining us?" Picard groaned, slightly.
"Unfortunately, he is unable," Data remarked, "Repairs to the Rorschach are currently underway, and he and Lieutenant Wright, the Chief Engineer, are attempting to salvage what they can of the vessel. I have been informed that they are converting the Sutherland's saucer section to the new designated saucer for the Rorschach itself. They had made plans to dismantle the saucer and replace it, but...Mister Wright seems to have grown attached to it."
"Ah," Picard noted. He popped the cork of the wine bottle promptly, and poured two fresh glasses. One for himself, one for the android. Data reached around behind him, to the other table again, and snatched up one of the wine glasses, placing it at the empty chair next to him.
"Mister Data," Picard mused, "Are you going to tell me who you've wrangled into joining us this evening, or shall I be forced to guess?"
"She will arrive shortly," Data explained, "Her work on the Rorschach at the moment is of utmost importance. She will join us as soon as it is possible for her to do so."
Picard arched an eyebrow, curiously, and chuckled across the table at the android.
"She?" the older man asked, with a smile, "Mister Data, I do believe that your journey was even more lucrative than you had previously led me to believe."
Data paused, cocked his head in that manner that only Data could quite manage, and smiled. The sight of Data's face in a full, broad smile was something that Picard knew he was going to have to get used to. It was...unusual. Even after the emotion chip was installed, Data had never been one for frequent or unneeded smiles or outbursts. With the exception of occasional breaking into the godawful "Life Form" song.
"So," Picard chuckled, softly, "Who's the lucky young woman?"
"Clarify," Data asked.
"Your date," Picard barked, crossing his arms and smiling with a great deal of amusement, "Who is she, exactly, Mister Data?"
"She is the new Executive Officer for the USS Rorschach," Data explained, "My replacement. The beings that we encountered have already disrupted the development of several worlds, and the Rorschach's next journey will take it to each of the worlds affected in an effort to minimize the damage. She felt a certain...obligation, to complete this mission herself. Although I argued that you would have gladly given her a post on the Enterprise as Tactical Officer."
At this point, Picard's smile turned into a frown. A deep frown.
"Mister Data," he explained, "I've already gone through a deal of trouble selecting a replacement for Mister Worf. The young man who has taken the post is extremely enthusiastic about his work, and it would be unfair of me to revoke his new position without a damned good reason."
"A moot point," Data noted, "As she will be unable to wrest that position from him at this time."
Again, Picard noted, Data was using that very mysterious pronoun, "she". Picard smirked, picked up his glass, and raised it.
"Might I propose a toast, Mister Data?" he requested.
"Of course, sir," Data answered, "You are the senior officer."
Picard smiled, and raised the glass just a little higher, clinking it against the glass that Data had raised.
"To the journey," Picard observed.
"To the journey," Data repeated. Both drank, slowly, but Data paused, glancing at Picard with a lost expression. "Captain, if memory serves, and it does in my particular case, you made a similar toast when I parted."
"Ah, in a manner," Picard grinned, "But we toasted the start of journeys specifically. Since that time, you were tried and tested, Mister Data, in a manner that few can truly attest to. And you seem to have emerged relatively unscathed. And so I suggest we toast that journey, and those that shall come after it."
"Insufficient description, sir," Data chuckled, broadly smiling again.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I was not merely 'unscathed'," Data argued, "Your description is thus insufficient."
"Insufficient?" Picard repeated.
"Yes, sir," Data answered.
Picard crossed his arms, frowned, and mockingly smiled.
"Very well, then, Mister Data. Let us play your little game," he mused, "How is my description insufficient?"
Data glanced, out of the corner of his eye, at a door opening near the front of the restaurant. He spotted a woman, with short blond hair, walking into the room wearing a long, elegant black dress. His smile broadened exponentially, a look that Picard still wasn't fully accustomed to. It placed him slightly at a state of unease.
"It is insufficient," Data explained, "Because not only have I emerged unscathed...I believe that because I took this journey, I am better off as a direct result."
"Spoken either as a Frenchman in love," Picard chuckled, "Or a fool, Mister Data."
"Perhaps both," Data grinned. "Excuse me, Captain."
Picard rolled his eyes as the seemingly giddy android stood up from the table, moving towards the door of the restaurant. Picard found himself wishing he'd brought Beverly, or someone else along. He didn't exactly feel like spending the evening as a third wheel. He'd been looking forward to seeing his old friend, swapping stories, making up for a little bit of lost time.
The woman Data had brought along was probably some stern, Starfleet martinet like Elizabeth Shelby, or some equally ambitious, inconsiderate, career-driven lunatic, with nothing on her mind but the number of pips at her neck. He was probably going to spend the whole evening listening to a junior officer trying to suck up to the Captain of the Enterprise, or, worse still, he'd spend the evening ignored while she and the android whispered sweet nothing, caught in the throes of young love.
She was probably someone he'd never met before, someone he wouldn't recognize. Nevertheless, for Data's sake, the captain would have to be polite, and would have to make as good as first impression as he possibly could.
"Merde," he grumbled, hearing two distinct pairs of footsteps behind him, approaching from the door. He heard Data making casual conversation with her, as they moved towards the table, and also caught the unmistakable sound of the android officer giving the mystery woman, whoever she was, a soft kiss on the cheek.
"This way," Data spoke, from behind the captain, walking the guest over to her seat.
Picard rolled his eyes a second time.
"Well, this is most certainly the last time I ever drink with an android."
Picard didn't bother looking up when Data and his guest approached, stuck in a slight disappointed reverie. Data politely, and cheerily, pulled out the chair for the woman, who took a seat. Data took his spot, across from Picard.
"Captain," Data spoke, "Are you unwell?"
Picard sat upright with a start, brushed himself off, and smiled.
"Oh, yes, Mister Data," he remarked, "Now, why don't you introduce me to..."
He paused, when he glanced over at the young woman that Data had invited along. Her hair was short, but not cut terribly short. Her eyes were deep blue. She was smiling at him, as broadly as Data had been smiling, and she seemed most...pleased to see the captain. He knew her immediately, and yet doubted his senses. What he was seeing was impossibility, complete impossibility. He turned back towards Data, stunned. He was about to ask a question, but the words simply wouldn't form.
"Hello, Jean-Luc," Natasha Yar smiled, her voice soft and light as ever.
Picard took a deep breath, glanced over her one more time, making certain that he was not mistaken. He smiled back.
"Mon dieu," he whispered.
After a moment, the captain's smile broadened, and the prospect of the evening became a great deal brighter. Apparently, Data had more stories to tell than Jean-Luc, even based on the reports, had come to expect.
The old captain reached over the table and filled the third glass with wine.
