Chapter Eleven
It had been the Pie Maker's suggestion that the group pay a visit to Tilly Tillingham's corpse which, he'd said, the police were holding down at the morgue. To support his odd proposal that they hold a brief interview with the deceased, aiming to establish his version of the events leading up to his murder, the Pie Maker had told the incredulous Starfleet officers of his family's peculiar 'gift' for touching dead things and allowing them an extra minute of life. He'd also told them of the consequences if that minute were allowed to stretch into two, even providing a demonstration. While Data kept careful track with his tricorder, the Pie Maker had touched his finger to the dried-out husk of a ladybug he'd found curled up on the windowsill. Just over a minute later, the rejuvenated ladybug was still flying, while the housefly the pie man had been trying to trap all morning had dropped off the light fixture to land, lifeless, on the countertop.
"Intriguing!" the android had gasped, startled enough to drop his 'detective' persona...for a moment, at least. "According to my readings, the energy transfer we just witnessed has transdimensional properties! This corresponds with the theory that probability wav—!"
"Yeah, sure, OK," Tasha had broken in impatiently, earning a scowl from Data. "But, what happens if you touch the bug again?"
The ladybug had flown away home by that time, but the Pie Maker had obligingly touched his finger to the dead fly. The little insect had risen to its feet with an irritable buzz, and the Pie Maker had touched it again. That time, when it lay still, it stayed still, no matter how many more times the pie man nudged it.
"First touch alive, second touch dead," he'd told them, his brown eyes fixed grimly on Tasha. "Forever."
The icy chill of his implication had settled over them all like a sleet-soaked sheet.
Data had swallowed hard.
"Then, that man," Geordi had said. "The one you chased out of here..."
"My great-uncle," the Pie Maker had said, and pinched his lips tightly together. "I think... He's come to restore the balance."
"And you?" Tasha had challenged. "Where do you stand on all this?"
"I think it's too late. The damage has already been done," he'd said, meeting her gaze with his. "However high the cost, your life has been returned to you, just like it's been returned to that ladybug. I don't believe it's our place to take it away now."
Tasha had nodded, and set her jaw.
"So," she'd said. "That interview with the dead guy. Are we going, or what?"
The city coroner's office was unsettlingly bright, painted with cheery candy-stripe colors. Tasha wrinkled her nose and rubbed her arms as the small group headed into the building, finding the incongruity as odd and disconcerting as the purpose of their visit.
The Pie Maker walked ahead with Data. Tasha lagged behind Geordi, still frustrated by Data's attitude. But, if she was to be honest with herself, she couldn't blame her foul mood entirely on Data's playacting weirdness. She couldn't pin it on the bizarre investigation the emotional android had dragged them into, or even the menacing man in black the pie man had chased from his shop with a rolling pin. No, the fuming, festering feelings she felt squeezing her guts as she trailed after the rest of the group had more to do with that damned Tsiolkovsky virus…remembering what it had felt like to lose control…
Tasha had worked a lifetime to prove to herself that she was worthy of Starfleet service, that she was more than her background of deprivation and abuse. Then in one day, one day, all her defenses, the shields she'd relied on to keep strong, to stay alive... They had just...dissolved away.
She'd berated herself often enough for giving in to the intoxicating virus, for putting her fevered visions and desires into action. Better to say it never happened, to move on and never look back.
Yet, here she was, some eight years later. However impossible, however miraculous her revival, she had awakened to a world where everything she'd known - her entire universe - had moved on without her.
Except this.
They'd have to talk it out sometime. Her and Data. She knew that. But how? How could she explain that...that back then, her friend, her colleague – the superior she'd worked with every day – that he'd seemed to her the perfect Starfleet officer. The Data she'd known...he'd been the embodiment of everything she'd aspired to become when she first made her escape from Turkana IV: brilliant, powerful, cool under pressure. No childhood trauma, no broken past, no strong emotions to hold him back...to make him doubt... She'd wanted that so badly, coveted his android speed and strength, constantly seeking that calm, that computer-like clarity within herself…
But, reaching out to him...joining her hidden desires with his... It hadn't worked out as she'd imagined. Instead of finding balance, she had unbalanced him. And now, just the thought of that virus, of what it had cost her, cost them both, made her anger bubble and burn.
"OK, here's the head medical examiner," the Pie Maker said, stopping outside a heavy, metallic sliding door. The sign beside it read: Morgue, Dr. Quincy Klugman, M.E. "Um…I'm not really sure what to do next."
"Allow me," Data said without breaking character, raising his chin and striding confidently into the office.
A brief stop at the Pie Hole's replicator had allowed Data to embellish his adopted 'detective' persona with a brimmed hat, a fitted coat, and a pipe that he'd agreed to keep in his pocket. Tasha had, at first, repeated her protests, mortified that he'd continue his Holmes act out in public. But, to her astonishment, the outfit he'd chosen looked both contemporary and rather flattering, managing to evoke Sherlock Holmes without looking like something out of a nineteenth century costume drama. She'd opened her mouth, ready to compliment him, but he'd looked at her first. It had been the first time he'd made direct eye contact all morning, and the little smirk he'd shot her caused any compliment she might have made to shrivel up and die on the spot.
"Guess we should follow him," Geordi said, tilting his head after Data.
Tasha and the Pie Maker shrugged and accompanied the engineer into a small, uncluttered office with bright cloud-white walls.
Dr. Quincy Klugman, M.E., looked up from his sandwich.
"Nice hat," he said to Data. "What do you want?"
"I am here as a private consulting detective, acting on behalf of Dilly Gherkin," Data informed him. "These are my colleagues."
"Hi," the M.E. said, then repeated: "What do you want?"
"We've come to view the body of Timothy Tillingham," Tasha said, cutting in before Data could reply. "We need to run some scans as part of our independent investigation."
The M.E. narrowed his dark eyes, turning his gaze to each of them in turn.
Uncertain of her status, and not wishing to attract undue attention, Tasha had taken to wearing civilian clothes. But, Geordi was wearing his uniform, and Data's was still visible beneath his long coat.
The M.E. deepened his frown.
"What's Starfleet's interest in this?" he asked.
"That's classified," Tasha replied, ignoring Data's quirking eyebrows.
"Classified, eh?" the M.E. said.
"That's right," Tasha said firmly.
The M.E. drew in a long, slow breath, using his desk to pry himself to his feet.
"Classified," he repeated. "And, if I were to contact Starfleet?" he said. "Ask to talk to your superiors?"
Data, Geordi, and the Pie Maker shared a look, but Tasha didn't blink.
"They'd deny everything," the ex-security chief said coolly. "And you might find yourself under investigation for obstructing our examination. But, I presume you already know that."
The M.E. nodded thoughtfully and stroked his chin.
"Fine," he said. "Have it your way. But I'm observing. I don't know about you Starfleet folks, but we don't get a lot of murder victims down this way."
"I'm afraid I can't allow that, sir," she said. "Classified means classified. You stay out here."
The M.E. sighed dejectedly and his shoulders fell into a slump. Shuffling toward an inner door, he pressed his hand to the wall panel and stepped aside to let the little group pass through.
"All right, you've got five minutes," he told them. "Starting now. Any longer, and I'm coming in. And don't try any funny stuff, like transporting the body away or replacing it with some kind of alien clone or symbiote. I read holonovels, you know."
"We'll be out in five minutes," Tasha told him as she and her friends passed through the door. "Thanks for your time."
"Hey, Tasha. Way to handle that guy," Geordi praised once the sliding door had closed. "No question, you've still got it!"
Tasha smiled at looked to Data, but the android's attention seemed focused on the figure lying still and prone on the metal cot near the center of the frosty, metal-paneled box of a room. The Pie Maker moved closer to the body, his long fingers drumming anxiously against his thighs.
"Do you, uh... That is, can any of you tell if there are any security monitors or..." He trailed off, his eyes darting around every corner.
Data pulled out his tricorder and made a quick sweep, his long coat billowing dramatically behind him.
"The room is 'clean'," he announced. "You may proceed."
The Pie Maker grimaced and edged still closer to the corpse, tilting his head uncomfortably as he peered into Tilly's pale, bloodless face.
"I just want to warn you all," he said, twitching his fists open and closed, "this is going to be weird. Like, really, disturbingly weird. If any of you would rather wait outside..."
"Ned, it's OK," Geordi told him. "You told us about your family's…special talent…back at the Pie Hole. Besides, having Tasha here with us is some pretty compelling evidence that this 'ability' of yours actually works...and not just on bugs."
Tasha bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a sudden, deeply visceral surge of reluctance to stand there and witness a man return to life...only to have it taken away again a minute later...
"Just touch the guy, already," she said. "We're wasting time."
The Pie Maker flexed his finger a few more times, then closed his eyes and tapped Tilly's corpse right on the nose.
From that point of contact, a soft blue-gold glow spread over the dead man's body and he lurched straight up, the silvery blanket that had covered him slipping from his chest to pool in his lap.
Data stared in wonder at his tricorder's readouts. "Astonishing!" he babbled. "It is like watching the merging of two realities - one in which the man is dead, and one in which he is alive. The quantum interference patterns are incredibly unstable. The initial waves seem to be evening out, but the resulting ripples appear to be growing exponentially. That might explain the one-minute time limit, and why individuals in close proximity to the reanimated being may fall victim to—"
"Wha-what happened?" the former corpse exclaimed and pulled the blanket back up. "Oh my god, it's freezing in here. Where am I? Did that man just say I was dead?"
"Well, yes. He did. You were," the pie man stammered. "But, there's no time to explain. We need to ask you—"
"Hey! It's that woman from the pie shop!" Tilly waved at Tasha. "What happened to that mark on your face? If it's make-up, that's a pretty good cover job. I always thought—"
"Tilly, shut-up," Tasha snapped. "We only have a minute. Can you tell us what happened the night you were murdered? Did you see who killed you?"
Tilly's eerie, corpse-pale eyes went wide. "I was murdered?" he exclaimed, patting himself down as if searching for gashes or phaser burns. "But why? How? Who would want to kill me?"
"That is what we were hoping you could tell us," Data said, slipping back into detective-mode. "Right now, Dilly Gherkin is 'on the hook' for the crime."
"Oh, no. Not Dilly," Tilly gasped. "She could never! Well, I mean, she does have a pretty hot temper. Competitive spirit and all that. Still... No. No, I don't believe it. Dilly and I were in love!"
"Maybe you were. But her?" Tasha arched an eyebrow. "That plate-throwing outburst of hers was pretty extreme."
"Oh, that," Tilly said, and smirked fondly. "I can explain about that. You see, Dilly and I had planned to be married once I got back from my research trip to Ferenginar. Miserable place, Ferenginar. Have you been? There's non-stop rain, awful rivers of mud and muck. The stench of rot was everywhere. And the food! Don't even get me started on those snail things they eat. Did you know Ferengi women are expected to pre-chew—"
"Yes, we are aware, and we are very short on time," Data said.
"Oh, right," Tilly said. "Well, I got back but my investigation into that gambling ring had really opened up, you see, and my boss wanted me to take one more trip - this time to Risa, where the other main guy recently invested in a fancy hotel and one of those huge cruise ships. Hey, if it smells like credit laundering, am I right? So, that meant another three to five months apart, and Dilly...well... She wasn't exactly happy about the delay. Or, about me spending all that time on Risa without her. But, she wouldn't have killed me over it!"
The pie man looked deeply thoughtful.
"Then, what about your investigation?" Data pressed. "Could the motive for your murder—"
"Hey, yeah - that could be it!" Tilly exclaimed. "See, all this time, I'd been after that Ferengi goon, you know? But it turns out he was actually pretty small potatoes. I think the real kingpin behind the scheme is—"
The Pie Maker yelped in sudden alarm and tapped Tilly's arm. The same blue-gold glow spread over him, and Tilly slumped back, lifeless.
"Yeeeesshh! I hate that," the pie man hissed, shaking his hand and hopping around to get rid of the creepy, electrical tingles running up and down his arm.
"What the hell!" Tasha exclaimed, her frustration covering her own fiercely horrified shudder. "He was just about to tell us the suspect's name!"
"What can I say? His minute was up," the Pie Maker said defensively. "Would you rather I let him stick around and watch one of you drop dead in his place? Or, maybe the medical examiner out there?"
"No," Tasha grunted, and ground her teeth.
"Well, at least his story should clear Dilly, right?" Geordi asked. "I mean, he was investigating an interstellar gambling ring. Seems to me, they'd be much more likely to want this guy dead than the waitress waiting to marry him."
"I'm still not convinced," Tasha said. "She sure didn't act like a woman who'd found her lifemate. And, you two didn't see that tantrum she threw. I did. There was real anger there. I think she was trying to hurt him."
"Then, you think the gambling ring might be a red herring?" Geordi said.
"I believe we should investigate both possibilities," Data said, holding his pipe as he paced across the room. "And we should start at the point where the two branches intersect." He stopped short, his coat billowing slightly as he stuck the empty pipe between his teeth. "The Santa Anita Race Track."
The Pie Maker followed the three Starfleet officers from the coroner's all the way to the shuttle depot.
"Don't you have a business to run?" Tasha asked him, making sure to keep careful distance after seeing how the mere brush of his finger had affected Tilly Tillingham.
"I'm coming with you," the Pie Maker insisted. "Dilly's my employee, and she's been a good friend. Whether she's involved in this murder or not... I need to know the truth. Besides, I can help!"
Data looked like he was about to weigh in, when his combadge chirped. Warily furrowing his brow, he opened the channel and said, "Data here."
"Lt. Commander Data, this is Lt. Phanomrat from the office of Captain James Bryce," an efficient, female voice responded. "You are to report here for a private meeting at 1330 hours this afternoon. If you need directions or require further information, please contact the central office at JAG Headquarters. Phanomrat out."
The channel closed and Data aimed a frustrated kick at the sidewalk.
"Shit," he grunted. "That is only one hour, eighteen minutes from now!"
Geordi shrugged his eyebrows. "It's not that bad," he said. "We can always head to the race track tomorrow."
"By tomorrow, the murderer's trail will be that much colder," Data protested. "Geordi, do you—"
A chirp from Geordi's combadge interrupted him, and Data raised his eyes to the sky. "I do not believe this!"
"La Forge," Geordi answered, smirking at his android friend.
"Lt. Commander La Forge, this is Lt. Phanomrat from the office of Captain James Bryce," the same female voice responded. "You are to report here for a private meeting at 1430 hours this afternoon. If you need directions or require further information, please contact the central office at JAG Headquarters. Phanomrat out."
"You know, this would be funny if it weren't so inconvenient," Geordi said once the channel closed.
Data scowled.
"It seems we have no choice but to delay our investigation," he said, bitterly shoving his pipe back into his jacket pocket. "Mr. Tompkins, we are grateful for your assistance. Tasha, if you wish to accompany Geordi and myself to JAG—"
"Wait, Data. Stop right there," Tasha said. "Where does it say we have to hold up the investigation just because you two have to head across the bay?"
Data wrinkled his nose in confusion. "There is no written document to that effect."
"God," she sighed. "Will you just listen? Ned Tompkins and I will go to the race track and start digging for dirt on Tilly's gamblers and Dilly's past career, OK? Then, you two can join us once you've done what you need to do to prepare for that tribunal. Makes sense? Yes? Then, let's get started."
Data and Geordi both seemed to pale.
"No, Tasha...no, I don't think..."
"Look, I don't see the problem here," she said. "You both have prior obligations. I'm free to keep hunting clues. It's a win-win."
"No."
Data spoke with such firmness, he seemed to surprise himself. He blinked, and in a softer tone he said, "Please understand, Tasha. We only just got you back. After what we all witnessed in that morgue... If Tilly's murderers were to realize..." He stopped, sighed, then admitted, "I do not want you to put yourself in unnecessary danger."
Tasha balked at that and narrowed her eyes.
"You don't want?" she repeated. "After the shitty way you've been acting all day, you turn around and think you can start giving me orders?"
Data blinked again, confused and genuinely stung.
"My only intent is to keep you safe."
"Then you better get this straight, Data. There's no such thing as 'safe'," Tasha retorted. "Not unless you call confinement 'safe'. And don't you start talking like I don't know exactly what I've been through, or how lucky I am to be alive. I am a security officer, and a damned good one. I've been trained to lead investigations, not to tag along after you to the JAG Office or curl up in the Pie Hole or Geordi's sister's house like a child or some pet animal pining for you to come back."
"You are more than 'damned good', Tasha," Data said. "Your skill and talent are exceptional. But, you do not understand."
"No. You don't understand," she snapped and started to brush past him calling, "Come on, Ned. Geordi, Data, I'll see you at the track."
Data grabbed her arm and she spun to face him, her angry glare crinkling, just slightly, when she saw the depth of emotion in his face.
"Tasha," he said and swallowed hard, his voice actually trembling as he stammered, "I...I love you, Tasha. I have loved you for so long. If anything were to..." He blinked rapidly and sniffed in a ragged breath.
"Perhaps I am catastrophizing," the android admitted. "Agonizing over an imagined worst-case scenario when, in reality, the cause for worry is slight. But, how am I supposed to feel? You were dead, Tasha! For nearly eight years! Is it so wrong that I would now wish to keep you close? To protect you?"
"Let go," Tasha demanded, her face set like a stone mask.
Data released his grip, looking as though he'd been kicked.
Tasha marched to the glowing shuttle-call strip at the edge of the curb, scrubbing her hands through her hair and muttering, "Dammit! Where's a damn taxi when you need one!"
The Pie Maker glanced from Tasha back to Data's crumbled features, his eyes tight with sympathy.
"If it helps at all," he said, "I have gloves..."
"Just go," Geordi said gently. "Good luck. Keep in contact."
As the Pie Maker hurried after Tasha, Geordi moved closer to his friend, the raw hurt in his golden eyes making Geordi's own heart sting.
"Come on, Data," he said, clasping the android's shoulder. "They need us on the other side of the bay."
To Be Continued...
References Include - TNG: The Naked Now, Skin of Evil, The Measure of a Man; the TNG novels Survivors and Metamorphosis; DS9: Family Business, Ferengi Love Songs; Pushing Daisies: The Fun in Funeral, Corpsicle.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next in line for an update: Mister Mxyzptlk's Eclectic Enterprise. Then, Often Wrong, Mother's Day, Skin Deep III, and Alternative Data. That's the plan, but if inspiration should suddenly strike it could be any story's game. LOL! Thanks so much for the nudges! Stay tuned for more, and Please Review! :D