Here at last, after far too long a time, is a brand new chapter for this story! Thanks so much for the nudge, and I hope you enjoy it! :D
Chapter Ten
It is two days, five hours earlier and in the town of West Thrush, on the colony world of Cuore dei Cuori, a tall man dressed all in black is boarding a high-speed shuttle bound for Earth. The man takes his seat with an air of firm resolve, dead-set on his mission to correct what he perceives to be a dire and threatening wrong. But, while it may not show in his steel-hard eyes, the tension in this man's jaw suggests his resolve is laced with a cold prickle of dread.
The fear that he may already be too late…
Back in the present, it is morning in the San Franciscan suburb of Walnut Creek, and the Greene family have finished clearing away the breakfast dishes and headed off to work and school respectively, leaving their guests with a house key and an actual, physical, handwritten sheet detailing the family's schedule and their emergency contact information...just in case.
While Geordi and Tasha each take their turn in the bathroom, preparing for the day ahead, Data remains seated at the kitchen table, his eyes distant and his expression thoroughly preoccupied.
The android had hoped a night's 'sleep' would calm his racing thoughts - that he would wake from his dream program with his mind clear and his turbulent emotions neatly sorted.
But, as he was learning, emotions were never neat, and only rarely could they be satisfactorily sorted.
Since first activating his emotion chip thirty-seven days, fourteen hours, and eight minutes ago, Lt. Commander Data had reached several significant conclusions – the foremost being that emotional responses were far more rational, and even logical, than he long had been led to believe.
Certainly, these new visceral reactions were powerful, even overwhelming at times. But, they did not manifest in a vacuum. They occurred in response to stimuli, direct or indirect. And their primary purpose, it seemed to him, was to serve in defense of his physical and mental safety.
Problems arose, he mused, when those visceral responses – by nature intensely self-centered and self-serving – came into conflict with abstract values. Values such as courage, self-sacrifice, sharing, placing the welfare of others before one's own, acting and speaking with an active mindfulness of the feelings and sensitivities of different individuals and groups…
Before the chip, Data had never given much thought to civilities of that kind. Primarily because he hadn't had to. Manners, ethics, morality – all had been ingrained in his software. An automatic and, therefore, unquestioned aspect of his base programming.
But, emotions…
Emotions forced Data to think. To make subjective moral and value-informed choices for every circumstance.
He wasn't used to that.
Data had always found satisfaction in being of service to others. In fact, he still did.
But, emotions put him first. His likes and dislikes, his comforts and discomforts. They were self promoters, amplifying his desires and creating resistance when faced with anything he found boring, tedious, or distressing.
And, therein lay the conflict, the battle between his own immediate wants and preferences, comforts and discomforts, and his programmed codes of virtue and correct conduct – between the body's self-serving impulses and society's moral constructs.
The Vulcan term for this conflict was 'disharmony.' The dissonance that resonated between matter and mind, and from which sprang 'chaos' and 'illogical' modes of thought.
For Data, this dissonant, disharmonious conflict found its physical embodiment in the impossibly reanimated person of Tasha Yar.
A woman who, at this very moment, Data rises from the table to discover seated on the living room sofa beside his best friend, Geordi La Forge. Frozen in alarm, Data observes how the two humans are sitting close enough for their knees to touch, the way Geordi runs his fingers over Tasha's smiling cheeks, along the bridge of her nose…
"I like this new VISOR," she says, turning the silvery device over in her hands. "It goes with your uniform. I still can't believe you're a lieutenant commander now! And chief engineer. Your family must be so proud!"
Maturity, according to Vulcan philosophy, is achieved only when the logical mind can successfully and consistently overrule the body's impulses. In most cases, this requires a lifetime of dedication to focused and mindful meditation, learning to practice constant conscious and disciplined self-control.
But, in this moment, staring down at his two closest friends, Data feels anything but 'mature.'
"Oh – Data! We didn't hear you come in!" Geordi says, slipping his VISOR back into place.
"Data's always been light on his feet. It's nice to know some things about you two haven't changed!" Tasha chuckles and places her hand on Geordi's arm.
Data's eyes widen. His breathing stops and he feels his chest constrict.
In the past, when Data had found himself confronted with bewildering behaviors, mannerisms, or quirky turns of phrase, he had sought out role models to mimic – behavioral templates he had learned to emulate in an effort to 'fit in' with the humans around him, and prevent himself from getting things wrong.
Now, confused, even frightened, by the tempestuous emotions he feels agitating his insides, the android falls back on that familiar habit. When Tasha asks, "So, are you ready to head back to The Pie Hole?", Data does not respond to her question as himself – a hurting, uncertain, insecure android. He replies as Sherlock Holmes - an established character with well-defined parameters.
"Indubitably, my good woman," he says, and Tasha wrinkles her nose. "But, we must be off at once."
"Yeah?" Geordi says, far more amused by his friend's affect than Tasha seems to be. "Why the rush all of a sudden?"
"No rush, my friend," Data tells him, striding across the room to hold the front door open. "But, there are a few items I would like to pick up along the way."
"Like what?" Geordi asks.
"I require a hat," Data tells him. "A suit and jacket would also be welcome. Oh, and a Brier pipe, if one can be found. To aid in contemplation."
"Give me a break," Tasha says, shaking her head. "Geordi, don't tell me you're going along with this!"
"Why not?" Geordi says. "It's not like he's doing any harm."
"But it's—!" she starts, then sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Fine," she says, stalking up to Data with a glare. "But, you're dropping that accent. And no pipe. Got it?"
"As the lady wishes," Data says, speaking in his own voice but with a distinctly Sherlockian air.
Tasha stares at him, then walks swiftly through the door.
Outside in the morning light, Tasha pursed her lips tightly together, keeping her gait just slow enough to allow Data a good lead before pulling Geordi aside.
"Why the hell is he being like this?" she hissed in the engineer's ear. "What's with this ridiculous Holmes act, anyway? It wasn't funny when we were investigating the Anticans, and it isn't funny now."
"I have to admit, this behavior is pretty unusual," Geordi whispered just as quietly, giving his friend's pole-straight back an appraising glance as they walked past row after row of sun-splashed houses and carefully-maintained gardens. "I don't know. Maybe the stress is getting to him, and this is his way of dealing with it."
"But, he didn't start the act until last night. After—"
"After you guys blew up at each other on my sister's porch?" Geordi said, his face turning grim as Tasha quickly looked away. "What did happen, Tasha? I've never seen Data react like that before."
Tasha closed her eyes, her jaw muscles clenching as she walked.
"I hurt him," she said curtly. "I didn't mean to – I didn't even think it was possible! Well, not at the time, anyway... But, I guess it was. And now, it's like… It's just— God! I poisoned everything...!"
"I don't think that's true," Geordi said, and sighed. "He's missed you, Tasha. I'm not sure he ever really managed to wrap that positronic brain of his around your death. It always seemed…there was some kind of unfinished business between you two. Something I could never get him to talk about. He'd just say you were special. That he'd grown used to you. That the bridge seemed 'empty' without your presence. Even Counselor Troi couldn't get him to open up. And, you know how Data loves to talk."
Tasha blinked.
"He said that?" she said. "He said the bridge seemed 'empty' without me?"
"Losing you was hard on everyone," Geordi admitted. "Worf. Troi. The captain. But, Data... He'd never had 'friends' before the Enterprise, you know? Not close friends...the way the three of us used to be."
"I can't believe he never said anything," she said grimly. "That he's kept it all inside, all this time…"
"And now he has that chip to complicate things…" Geordi sighed and shrugged his eyebrows. "Maybe he doesn't know how to handle...well...having you back with us. How to talk with you. How to release whatever it is he's been keeping back from the rest of us."
"So...what? He hides behind Sherlock Holmes, treats me like some storybook character so he doesn't have to – what? Confront me? Get angry? Admit he's been acting like the world's biggest ass?"
"Data's not used to such strong emotions, Tasha," Geordi said. "And we're not used to seeing him with them. I think the best thing, for now, is to give him some time. If he needs to be Sherlock Holmes for a while, let him be Sherlock Holmes. It'll give him a chance to process and, who knows? He just might solve this awful murder."
"This murder's already been solved," Tasha muttered irritably. "Dilly Gherkin did it. It was a crime of passion, plain and simple, and now she's playing on Data's naiveté to muddy the case and garner herself some reasonable doubt."
"You sound pretty sure of that," Geordi said.
"Oh, please," she said. "I saw how she kept pawing at him that day at the restaurant. Sliding him a second slice of pie, offering him ice cream, on the house!" She snorted. "Only an idiot or an android would fall for a corny schtick like that."
Geordi regarded her.
"You sure you're not just jealous?" he asked.
Tasha's sudden spike in body temperature confirmed all he needed to know. Geordi masked the sharp pang he felt in his heart with a sadly resigned little smirk.
"What? Why the hell should I be jealous of that cheap, hyper-manic dye job?" she protested.
"Maybe because Data likes her," Geordi said. "And she likes him." He tapped his VISOR. "It wasn't an act, Tasha. I could tell."
Tasha blew out an angry sigh.
"Yeah, well, act or not, she's still a killer," she said. "And Data's still an idiot for letting her get so close. We better pick up the pace – he's already half a block ahead."
"I don't know what set her off. I swear, I've never seen Dilly go crazy like that. She's usually just...perky..."
The Pie Maker kept his hands in the pockets of his flour-dusted apron and his eyes fixed fast on the restaurant's freshly polished tile floor.
Other than a lightly dinged-up table top and a few light fixtures that still seemed slightly askew, most of the traces of the chaos from the previous afternoon had been cleared away. And, despite the cheery window sign with the cartoon pie man balancing a precarious stack of cherry pies in both hands announcing The Pie Hole had been closed for the day, the cozy scents of caramelizing fruits and crisping pastry warmed the air.
"I've been experimenting with a few new flavors," the lanky man explained as the oven in the back let out a resonant 'ding'! "Dilly's my usual guinea pig for this sort of thing, but since she's not here, would you three mind...?"
"Not at all," Data said brightly, watching in rapt fascination as the Pie Maker pulled out his steaming creations and served them each a thick wedge.
"What is it?" Tasha asked, giving the smooth, vivid orange filling a wary sniff.
"Persimmon Walnut Crumble with a ginger cookie crust, topped with a scoop of ginger frozen custard," the Pie Maker explained, though he seemed rather glum.
"...the hell is a persimmon..." Tasha grumbled under her breath, picking at the buttery, oat-flecked crumbles with her fork.
"It is a sweet, luscious orange fruit originally native to China, and it is absolutely delicious paired with this ginger custard," Data told her, happily savoring his own slice of pie. "Mr. Tompkins, sir, you are an artist. How long has Dilly worked for you?"
"Oh…years," the Pie Maker said. "Since she recovered from her accident. She's always been a reliable employee. Happy, friendly. Great with the customers. I never would have imagined she'd be capable of something so terrible. Coffee?"
"Sure," said Tasha, grateful for something familiar.
"I would prefer tea, please, if it is not too much trouble," Data said, his pie already half gone. "Black, with milk."
Geordi glanced up from his frozen custard.
"Yeah, I'll have tea too, thanks. With sugar. So, you do think she's responsible for Tilly Tillingham's murder?" he pressed as the Pie Maker obligingly set about making their drinks.
"I don't know what to believe," the lanky man told him. "But, I will say this much. If you'd asked me yesterday morning or any day before if I thought Dilly Gherkin could kill, I'd have laughed you right out of my shop. And so would everyone else in this town. Well, the ones who knew her, anyway."
Data nodded in a thoughtful way that made Tasha's expression clamp down hard. Pushing her plate to the side, she pressed her hands to the counter and leaned forward.
"You mentioned Dilly's accident," she said. "Can you give us any details regarding—"
A tinkle of bells made the whole group turn to face the front door, where a tall man, dressed all in black from his boots to his wide-brimmed hat, stood like an ominous pillar on the brightly colored welcome mat.
The Pie Maker, already pale and wan, seemed to fade even more at the sight of him.
"We're closed right now," he announced in a firm but not-so powerful voice, his shaking hands sinking deeper into his apron pockets. "You'll have to come back tomorrow."
The tall man stepped forward and pulled off his gloves.
Data, Geordi and Tasha rose from their stools.
"Do you require assistance?" Data asked warily.
"I'm lookin' for someone," the man said, his voice low and his steel-hard gaze fixed firmly on Tasha. "To be more accurate, I think I found someone."
"Tasha, do you know this man?" Data asked.
"I've never seen him before!" she said, shooting the menacing stranger an angry glare. "Who the hell are you, and what do you want?"
The man smirked, moving closer. Geordi backed against the wall in alarm, but Tasha crouched like a leopard, sinking into a defensive stance as Data moved to stand between her and the ominous man in black.
To everyone's surprise, the Pie Maker grabbed a floured rolling pin from his work table and leaped/skidded over the front counter, scattering pie plates and crying, "Get out! Get out of here, now!" The man in black slipped back out the door to a tinkle of bells and the Pie Maker chased him several feet down the sidewalk before lowering his rolling pin and walking back inside to face the startled Starfleet officers.
"Was that the guy?" Geordi demanded. "Was that the killer?"
The Pie Maker hung his head, slipping his floury rolling pin into the tie of his apron as if he were slipping a sword into its sheath.
"You three might as well sit down," he said grimly, and looked up to meet each of their eyes in turn. "You're already a part of this mess. If you're going to be joining my investigation, there's a lot you need to know."
To Be Continued...
References Include - TNG: Lonely Among Us; Skin of Evil; The Outrageous Okona; The Big Goodbye; Starship Mine; The Naked Now; and the entire Pushing Daisies series.
Your reviews are always welcome. Thanks so much for reading! :D