Sam stared at the bright pink planet on the viewscreen. He was no closer to figuring out how to work his station. And that woman kept staring at him! He could feel it. Surely these people had to take a break sometime. He still had no idea what he looked like, although he was fairly certain he was male. He looked over his shoulder yet again. Yep, still staring. What is she thinking?
Her scrutiny had not gone unnoticed by the captain of this ship. "Counselor Troi?" the captain asked.
The woman turned to her right. "Yes, Captain?"
"Is something wrong?"
Troi glanced back at Sam before answering, "No, sir."
The captain was not giving up so easily. "First Data's acting strange, now you? What's going on?" He looked from Sam to Troi.
Troi smiled at the captain, whose name Sam still didn't know. "Just preoccupied by the mission, I suppose."
The captain seemed to accept that. Sam started to relax when the captain turned to him and asked, "Mr. Data, what have your scans revealed about the Zyros system?"
Sam was debating how to respond when Al popped in next to him.
"Sam! Thank God--I wasn't sure we'd ever find you. Ziggy tried everything." Al looked around. "Good Lord! What a ship!" He caught sight of the massive being at the rail. "And what is that?" He looked at Sam. "Don't try to answer me yet . . . but you better answer the captain-- he's looking pretty ticked. What did he ask you?"
"Mr. Data." The annoyance was back in the clipped voice.
Sam swallowed. "Yes, sir, the, uh, scans of Zyros."
"Tell him they were inconclusive," Al said after consulting the handlink, a calculator-sized machine composed of tiny, colorful cubes.
"The scan was inconclusive," repeated Sam,
"Inconclusive?" An eyebrow raised in annoyance.
Al frantically checked the link. "Yeah. Tell him you would like to study it further in your quarters."
Sam dutifully repeated Al's words.
"Now request permission to leave the bridge," advised Al.
"Permission granted," the captain responded to Sam's request.
Sam got up from the station. Once his back was to the officers he cast a questioning glance at Al. Al stared back. "Huh? Oh! How to leave- -just a second." Al floated to the closed doors on the left side of the bridge. He poked his head through the one to the back. "Sam! This one's an elevator!" he beckoned.
Sam walked to the doors, which promptly opened. Al floated in beside him. Once the doors closed Sam sank against the wall. "That was horrible! How the heck am I supposed to get to my quarters?" he asked.
He jumped when a disembodied female voice responded. "Destination please."
Sam looked at Al. Al shrugged, "Not quite as friendly as Ziggy, is she? Try the obvious."
"Data's quarters," Sam said. The elevator obediently began to move.
Sam turned to Al. "Where have you been?"
"Trying to get information and find you. You think it was hard locating you in the Bermuda Triangle? That was nothing compared to this!" Al waved his cigar expansively. "Sam, you won't believe where, when, and who you are!"
"I've got where down. I'm in space at some system called Zyros."
The doors opened onto a corridor. Sam walked out. It was populated, so he let Al talk while he checked doors for Data's name.
"Okay, Sam. You're on board the U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-D. She's a Galaxy-class starship. And is she a beauty! The captain's name is Picard. And get this--you're in the year 2335."
Sam had just found his quarters. He dashed in, barely waiting for the doors to close before shouting, "2335! How did this happen? Al, this is the future! What can I possibly change here? Al," his eyes widened even more, "am I stuck here?"
Al tried to calm his friend down. But he shared the same concerns. How could Ziggy predict the necessary changes in a timeline that, for them, hadn't happened yet?
"Ziggy's running as many projection scenarios as she can. Gooshie's gathering every piece of current information. Hopefully your counterpart can give us some help."
"But, Al. He can't give you information about the future. That would really disrupt things," argued Sam, albeit more calmly.
"True, but he can tell us what their mission was supposed to be. Maybe you're here to do something he couldn't."
"How can I do something he can't? He's been trained, specially chosen for service. He's obviously more prepared than I could ever be," reasoned Sam. He looked around Data's quarters for the first time. Shelves near the door showcased a violin and theater props. On a stand in the corner hung a Sherlock Holmes cape. Works of art in nearly every style imaginable leaned against the wall; an unfinished canvas sat on an easel. Sam walked towards a huge computer station behind the living area. "What can I do that he can't?" Sam repeated.
"More than you know," said Al. "You haven't seen a mirror yet, have you?" he responded to Sam's questioning look. Al gestured toward a full- length mirror on the far wall.
Sam stared in total disbelief at the reflection which greeted him. Gold-irised eyes widened in a pale gold-hued face. His hair, Sam noted with some relief, was brown. At least something's normal. "What? Why?" he choked out.
Al regarded him with sympathy. He would have liked to touch his friend's shoulder in support and reassurance, but he was a hologram to Sam and had no substance.
"You've Leaped into Lieutenant Commander Data. You're the second officer on the Enterprise. And. . . you're an android."

******

Counselor Deanna Troi walked down the corridor towards Data's quarters. She'd left the bridge ten minutes after Data, claiming an appointment. She didn't want to alarm anyone else on board, but something wasn't right about Data. She'd noticed it even before his odd behavior, her empathic senses picking up the sudden awareness of a consciousness not there before. Normally she could sense nothing from Data's positronic brain, incapable of producing emotions. But minutes before he sat at Ops, she'd felt confusion emanating from him. Then, before he'd left the bridge, she'd sensed the faintest glimmer of someone else, someone full of passion, their emotions close to the surface--but it was as if that someone were there and yet not. Troi knew the captain should be informed, but she wanted some answers first--and she would get them in any way necessary.
Perhaps if she caught him by surprise she could find some answers. She reached Data's quarters and entered the always unlocked doors without touching the courtesy chime. She heard Data's voice from the work area, speaking as if in conversation with someone else.
"Al, find out the specifics--every detail of the mission and give it to Ziggy." A pause. "I'll see what I can learn. And will you stop tormenting that poor cat?"
Troi walked in to see Data looking down at his cat, Spot, who was chasing and pouncing on. . . nothing. She sensed apprehension and amused annoyance from Data, and a mix of concern and humor from someone not quite there.
"Who's Al?" she asked, startling Data.
"Al is. . ." he paused, glancing briefly to his left. "Al's my computer," he finished lamely.
"Really," she said, her accented voice dripping sarcasm. She followed his glance, trying to focus her senses on the someone-who-wasn't- there. "Why is the computer tormenting Spot?"
"Oh, it was making some obnoxious noise that she didn't like," offered Data.
Troi folded her arms and looked at Data askance. "I don't believe you," she said.
"You don't?" A quick glance behind her now, tinged with disapproval.
"No. Why don't we both sit down and speak honestly." She led the way to a couch. If she expanded her senses to the limit, could she almost hear, in stereo, the words "oh, boy"?

******