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Your support on this journey has made it all worthwhile.
*Clasps hands together*
Hollow Pursuits!
We're here!
Please note, this will be a two-part instalment.
Chapter specific content warnings: Some moments of violence during some of the holodeck programmes.
We have finally reached the tie-in with the companion story And Then There Was Fun.
In the timeline, And Then There Was Fun will occur between chapters 56 and 57.
There will be a wee bit of an in-universe time jump (just a few weeks) when we pick back up with The Complication in chapter 57 as we see our favourite characters team up with the Jarada for a joint mission.
The Walsh's are back – sort of. They're up to no good (no surprises there). Admiral Walsh is plotting behind the scenes, but it will be a while before we see him in any official capacity again. For now, Walsh is hanging out there like a shadow, unbeknownst to our crew.
Walsh will emerge once we reach The Measure of a Man. It is a companion fic called The Case with two tie-in chapters. Technically, it's a series 2 episode. However, for reasons that will become apparent in time it fit better to include in our series 1 retcon.
Reg Barclay was walking down the corridor when he spied Command Riker approaching his direction.
His chest grew tight and started to panic.
Attempting to scan the area without looking like he was searching around, Barclay was trying to identify any possible escape route to allow him to avoid crossing paths with the First Officer.
Reg had made a plan to avoid Commander Riker for the next few days at all costs.
But the distance between them was closing fast and there was nowhere for Reg to turn without making it obvious that he was trying to avoid confrontation.
"Mr Barclay," Commander Riker said as he drew closer.
Barclay gave him a small wave and began to walk faster. He reasoned that if he couldn't get around Riker, then he could at least shorten their interaction.
It would be easy to feign rushing off to a task.
"Mr Barclay, I wanted to talk to you about the other day," Commander Riker said.
They were less than a metre apart.
"I-I-I'm terribly sorry, sir," Reg said as he tried to make a beeline around him.
"Slow down," Riker ordered.
Barclay stopped. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.
It hadn't been his fault.
Reg had done everything he could.
But none of that had mattered to Commander Riker.
Several Days Prior
"Well?" Riker demanded.
Reg Barclay was sweating under the collar of his uniform. For the last two hours he had been at the terminal for Holodeck Three trying to help commander Riker retrieve a file that had disappeared.
"Mr Barclay?" Riker asked urgently.
"W-well, I checked the relays. And I ran the programme through a series of diagnostic assessments," Barclay stammered. "Then I m-m-moved the pattern buffer to reset the coil and-"
"Barclay!" Riker barked.
He was tired of listening to him dance around answering the question.
Barclay closed his eyes and took a breath to steady his nerves. He squared his shoulders and then looked back at Commander Riker.
"And there's nothing there," Barclay said.
There was a brief moment of silence.
Reg could tell that whatever Commander Riker was trying to recover was important to him. As someone that relied on the holodeck for his own escape, he could empathise.
"I'm truly sorry, Commander," Barclay apologised.
"Check it again," Riker ordered.
Reg blinked, unsure of exactly how to assert himself.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Reg knew how to assert himself, but he didn't feel like he could. He was paralysed by fear. Even though Reg was the same height as Commander Riker, the man still carried himself with an imposing presence.
Sometimes Reg wondered if Riker really understood just how intimidating he could be to the other officers.
As a tall, but socially awkward person, Reg had always been keenly aware of how posture, height, and body size could intimidate others. He was hyper aware of his own body. Reg often practiced movement and hypothetical conversations in order to both avoid imposing on others and to learn to better articulate himself.
"Is that a problem, Lieutenant Barclay?" Riker asked, assuming the delay was insubordination.
"N-n-no. I can run it again," Barclay said slowly.
He could run it again. He could run it three more times.
Reg knew he could spend all night checking and rechecking his work and the result would be the same.
Summoning all of his courage, Reg decided to stick up for himself.
"Sir, I'm sorry. But that file is gone and there's nothing more I can do to bring it back," Reg tried to explain. "Everything I try to-"
"Then try harder!" Riker snapped before storming off to get some air.
Present
"Sir, I'm due in…uh," it was difficult for Reg to talk.
He tried to step around Commander Riker, but Riker ordered him to stop.
Barclay froze and braced himself for a dressing down.
"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour yesterday," Commander Riker explained.
Reg opened one eye, half-expecting this to be a cruel joke.
"I was out of line, and you were only trying to help," Riker acknowledged. "I'm awfully sorry for what I put you through."
Barclay wasn't sure what to say.
He hadn't expected Commander Riker to apologise.
After all, in his own eyes, Reg Barclay was just a Lieutenant – and not a very good one at that.
"T-thank you," Reg said with a stiff nod.
"Can you forgive me?" Riker inquired.
Reg nodded quickly. He just wanted to get this interaction over with as fast as possible.
"Thank you," Riker said before moving along.
As soon as he thought Riker was gone, Barclay leaned his head back against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief.
He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the gentle hum of the ship's life support system to try and steady his nerves and slow the oncoming wave of intrusive thoughts.
Barclay knew that he was a forty-one-year-old diagnostic engineer that had a mundane record.
His last commanding officer couldn't get rid of him fast enough.
Barclay had always struggled to fit in during his assignments and the Enterprise was certainly no exception.
But it was times like these that he wished he had someone to confide in.
He certainly could share this in a letter to his mother. She would sympathise and offer a shoulder to cry on, but deep down, Reg knew that she would be disappointed to hear that, yet another posting, wasn't going well.
The Enterprise was supposed to be his chance to start fresh.
But he had been aboard for nearly a year and had failed to form any real connections with his fellow crewmates. Occasionally, some of the guys from Engineering would invite him to the holodeck. But Reg suspected it was more because they wanted his skills in programming rather than any actual desire to spend time with him.
In spite of years of practice and research, his nervous tendencies prevented him from pursuing any romantic entanglements.
And he felt like all he did was annoy the senior officers.
Hell, the only friends he had were holographic.
"Everything alright, Mr Barclay?" Riker asked.
He had noticed Barclay hadn't moved since their conversation.
Barclay started.
"F-f-fine," he stuttered.
Reg walked away quickly, eager to put as much distance between himself and Commander Riker as possible.
He needed to confide in someone, take his mind off things for a while.
From his position at the bar, Barclay heard the door to Ten Forward open. He was leaning over the bar and didn't need to look up to know that it was Deanna Troi. She was in the off-shoulder blue number that he'd seen her wear whenever Commander Riker put on a performance in Ten Forward.
Deanna slinked in and took a seat at one of the tables along the platform that lined the window.
At the bar, Barclay reached for the bottle of whisky at the bar and made to pour himself a drink.
Before he could pour, Guinan put her hand down and covered his glass.
"I don't want any trouble here, Barclay," she advised.
"Trouble? Why would there be trouble?" Barclay responded.
He lifted her hand off the glass and proceeded to pour himself a shot.
"Because wherever you go, trouble follows," Guinan said.
The doors to Ten Forward slid open once more and Geordi La Forge entered in a huff. He walked up to the bar and stood next to Barclay.
"Lieutenant Barclay, you're on duty," Geordi said, irritated.
Reg set down the bottle and casually picked up his glass.
"Is that a fact?" Reg asked sarcastically before he threw his head back and downed the shot.
"It is and you'll observe it," Geordi said in a terse manner. "So get back to your post!"
Barclay sighed. He turned and leaned against the bar, resting his arm on the ledge.
"Look, pal, why don't you do me a favour. Take yourself back to Engineering and be along in a while to do the real work," Barclay said confidently.
Reg pulled himself up to his full stature and stared down at the much shorter Lieutenant La Forge.
Commander Riker, who was seated at the end of the bar, rose from his chair and approached the two men.
"This is insubordination, Mr Barclay," Riker warned.
Barclay did not acknowledge Riker's comment. He turned back to the bar and poured himself another shot. Then he turned back around and stared at Riker.
"Here's to insubordination," Barclay said as he raised his glass.
He downed the second shot and then returned the glass to the counter.
"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Barclay asked.
"I've had enough of this," Riker said. "Come with me, we're going to see the Captain."
"Now, Lieutenant Barclay," Geordi ordered as he reached for Barclay's arm to guide him out of Ten Forward.
Barclay gave Geordi a shove and sent him backwards into a nearby table.
Riker made a move to subdue Reg, but Barclay was quicker. In one fell swoop, he turned and had Commander Riker in a headlock.
"You're nothing but a pretty mannequin in a fancy uniform full of hot air," Barclay growled. "If Picard has a problem with me, you can tell him to come find me himself."
He released Riker who coughed and adjusted his collar.
Geordi scrambled up from the floor. He grabbed Commander Riker's arm and they both beat a hasty retreat from the bar.
As they rushed out, Barclay gave them a little wave.
"Ta ta, gentlemen," he teased.
Reg turned back and rolled his shoulders back, feeling a new rush of confidence.
Across the room, Deanna Troi was watching him with rapt attention.
Barclay grabbed his bottle and glass and swaggered over to a nearby chair.
He sat down backwards and grinned.
"I feel your confidence, your arrogant resolve," Deanna shared.
Barclay didn't understand how he could be so confident in her presence in this setting yet failed to do so anytime they had a meeting or whenever he had to report to the Bridge.
Her eyes lit up.
"It excites me," Deanna whispered.
She leaned forward. Their faces were inches apart and she was fast closing the distance between them.
Barclay braced himself to be on the receiving end of a familiar kiss.
"Lieutenant Barclay, report to Cargo Bay Five," Lieutenant La Forge's voice chimed from his combadge.
He sat back immediately and sighed.
"It will have to wait till later, darling," Barclay said to Deanna.
Her disappointment was evident in her expression.
Barclay tapped his combadge to acknowledge the hail.
"Be right there, sir," Barclay responded.
As soon as the channel was disconnected, he took one last look at Deanna.
"Computer, save programme," Barclay ordered. "Discontinue."
In a flash, the holographic Deanna Troi and Ten Forward vanished and were replaced by the yellow and black grid that lined the only place on the ship where Reg Barclay felt he could truly be himself.
Down in Cargo Bay Five, Geordi, Data, Commander Riker, Chief O'Brien, Doctor Crusher, Tasha were assembled around the cannisters holding the recent tissue samples they had picked up on Pelleus V.
They had been donated by the Federation people known as the Mikulaks in hopes that they could help in curbing an outbreak of Correllium Fever on Nahmi IV. The Mikulaks had recovered the samples as part of an archaeology expedition.
The samples were part of a larger discovery of older medical files, specimens, and equipment from a previously lost Starbase. They dated back to the twenty-second century and were considered a priceless find.
"There appears to be only one broken seal," Data reported as he and Miles were scanning the sample containment.
"You'd better destroy it, Doctor," La Forge advised.
"Yes. Those samples will be tainted," Beverly replied.
She whipped out her tricorder and ran it over the canister.
"Looks like this was an Orion tissue sample. Correllium fever alright," Beverly said as she analysed the readings from her medical tricorder.
"Is this any danger to the ship?" Tasha inquired.
Beverly shook her head.
"No, the sample is tainted but the virus cannot be spread in this manner," Beverly answered.
"How did this happen?" Riker asked.
Miles and Geordi explained that they had beamed aboard the samples without issue. When they went to move the samples off the transporter pad, there was a malfunction with the antigrav unit.
"We lost functioning on one end for a brief second. It was enough to jostle the crate and the far-left corner slipped," Miles informed them.
"I've got our diagnostic engineer en route to take a look at it," Geordi advised.
"Ensign MacDougal will be arriving shortly with a second antigrav unit from Cargo Bay Three," Data said.
As soon as he walked in, Barclay froze upon seeing the gathering of senior officers.
He tried to hide behind a stack of crates, but it was too late.
"Lieutenant Barclay," Geordi said, waving him over.
"Hey Reg," Beverly smiled.
She was so nice to him. She was always so nice to him.
"D-d-doctor," he squeaked.
"We are in need of your assistance, Lieutenant," Data said.
"We're having an intermittent problem with this antigrav unit," Geordi notified him. "I want you to see what you can do with it."
Reg nodded and retreated to the Engineering equipment locker to grab a toolkit.
Upon his return, Barclay was alarmed to find the officers were still there huddled around the tissue samples.
He stepped over to the corner and knelt down next to the malfunctioning antigrav unit. Removing the access panel, he hooked up a specialised tricorder and began to run through a preliminary systems check.
"Are there any other canisters with weak seals?" Riker asked.
"These are nearly two centuries old," Data explained. "Many of the canisters are sealed using ancient methods."
"According to the team on Nahmi IV, they will be safely transferring all of these samples to new, modern storage for cataloguing," Beverly said. "I'd do it here, but I don't have the necessary equipment."
"Should we impose a general containment field until then?" Tasha suggested.
"Scans do not show any dangerous emissions. And the diseases contained within these tissue samples are inert and cannot be transmitted in this manner," Data replied.
From his corner, Reg tried to block out the sound of their voices.
He was already nervous enough about screwing up. Having to work with them standing just a few metres away was more than enough pressure to send him over the edge.
To Reg's horror, they stayed nearly half an hour discussing the matter before leaving him alone to work.
By the time they were through, Reg was a ball of nerves.
His hands were sweating, and it was difficult to concentrate on the problem. To make matters worse, all of his attempts to diagnose the issue had come up empty. There was nothing blocking the power flow, the signal between the remote and the unit was functioning fine, and the regulator was performing within specifications.
Reg was at a total loss for how and why this unit could have suddenly gone down on one side.
He was terrified of having to approach Commander Riker without having a solution at hand. After his recent experience on the holodeck, Reg did not want a repeat performance.
No, Barclay needed to cool his head, step back, and approach the problem fresh.
He needed a trip to the holodeck – just something to take his mind of things for a while.
A fighter plane buzzed low overhead, the signature tell of the single engine aircraft as it putzed along to drop its payload. In the distance, the sound of shelling could be heard.
Reg glanced overhead. He was standing in the shelled-out ruins of an old stone church.
The sun was blocked behind a wall of clouds. The acrid smoke from the battlefield choked at his lungs. He could smell the kerosene they were using to fuel the remaining tanks – it would ruin the engines eventually, but there was nothing long-term about their position.
"Lieutenant!" Tasha called out.
Barclay picked up a bandolier of ammunition and slung it over his chest.
He turned to where Lieutenant Yar was making a last-minute inspection of her firearm.
"Saddle up," she said. "We've been mobilised."
"Let me guess, the team they sent in couldn't handle it?" Barclay quipped.
Yar shook her head.
"Special assignment," she informed him.
"So, of course, they call in the A-team," Barclay replied.
"You know it," she responded as she secured the holster for her side-arm around her thigh.
Reg stretched out his arms and cracked his knuckles.
Tasha picked up her field service cap and secured it on her head.
"I've been told we'll be briefed on the way," she said.
They stepped out onto the makeshift airfield and joined the rest of their team. There was Worf, a literal tank on the battlefield. He grunted from underneath his beret upon their approach.
"The payload has been loaded," the android Data reported.
He was the strongest member of their team and the only one that was immune to the virus.
They climbed onto the helicopter that was waiting to fly them into enemy territory.
"Your mission will be to deliver this payload to the centre of the bunker. It is vital that you reach that point before releasing the poison," Guinan, their pilot advised. "It will destroy all of the reanimated dead soldiers. Once they're out of the way, our forces can advance across no-man's land. We'll have a clear path the capital city."
"So this is a one-way trip?" Worf asked.
"Our death is certain," Data replied.
"What are we waiting for?" Barclay grinned.
As they approached their target, they were met with heavy fire from anti-aircraft artillery on the ground.
"I'm sorry, I won't be able to get you any closer," Guinan advised as she piloted them in.
"We'll take it from here," Barclay advised.
Data strapped the payload of the anti-zombie weapon to his back and the four members of Barclay's team jumped off the helicopter that was hovering near the ground.
"Incoming, two-o'clock," Tasha advised.
There was a wave of undead soldiers closing on their position.
Yar and Worf laid down a flurry of gunfire, blunting the charge.
"Yar, take point. Worf, cover our six. Let's move out," Barclay ordered, waving them along.
Working quickly, the team set out toward the trench ahead. They ducked the incoming fire from the line and rushed forward.
When they reached the edge of the trench, Yar identified an entry point. From her tactically higher position, she dispatched two undead soldiers in quick order.
She was first down the ladder with Data close behind.
Reg took down several reinforcements before he ordered Worf in next.
Once his team was secure, Reg jumped down, landing on his feet. He rose dramatically a moment later and locked eyes with Tasha.
She flashed him a small smile, but the moment was cut short by a new wave of undead coming round the corner, growling and ready to attack.
"Let's keep moving," Barclay ordered.
They were halfway to the bunker at the centre of the trench when Worf was caught off guard by a team of undead pouncing down upon him from above.
"Argh!" he cried as he cut down.
"Worf!" Tasha cried out.
She made a move to assist, but Barclay grabbed her as she ran past.
"It's too late for him!" Barclay said.
It was the truth – the undead had swarmed Worf and he was lost in a crowd of flesh-eating zombies as they consumed him.
"No one gets left behind!" Tasha protested as she struggled against Barclay.
"We have a mission, Yar," Barclay said in a commanding voice.
Now down one man, Barclay took point. Tasha was in the rear, protecting Data between the two of them.
It was vital that they kept Data and the payload he carried safe.
Through twenty minutes of heavy combat, they fought their way toward the centre of the trench where the bunker lay.
They rounded another corner and Barclay spied the entrance to the bunker ahead.
Barclay dispatched the two guards outside. They dropped to the ground, not even having seen his approach.
A moment later, reinforcements arrived. They rushed up the concrete stairs and over the makeshift barbed wire deterrent toward them.
Barclay knew they would be coming and already had them in his sights. They didn't stand a chance. One by one, he took them out as they emerged.
All of a sudden, Reg was tackled as an undead soldier leapt out from behind one of the tents.
He was knocked to the ground and lost his grip on his firearm.
"Sir!" Data cried out, rushing forward to assist.
He picked up the enemy and tossed him across the trench as if he weighed nothing.
Data offered Barclay his hand and pulled him to his feet.
"I hate to ruin this little moment, but we've got company," Tasha reported.
Behind them, there was a horde of undead rapidly approaching, their grotesque figures snarling as they drew closer.
"Let's get inside," Barclay ordered.
The three of them moved quickly toward the bunker entrance and were relieved to find it was largely unguarded.
Barclay grabbed one of the remaining zeds and drove his knife right through the eye. Data made light work of a second one with a simple twist of the neck.
"We've got a problem," Yar said from her position guarding the door.
The door had been damaged during the bombing and could only be closed from a manual crank wheel on the outside.
"I'll go," Tasha offered. "Get that payload secure, OK?"
"No," Data replied.
He unsecured the payload from his back.
"As I cannot be bitten or transformed, it is only logical that I go," Data advised. "I will be able to hold them off longer."
Reg nodded in understanding as he accepted the pack that carried the mysterious weapon that would eliminate the undead threat.
"As you would say, best of luck," Data offered before he stepped through the door.
Reg and Tasha watched as he went, the door closing behind him.
Data secured the crank wheel and turned to face the oncoming horde in hopes of buying his comrades enough time.
Inside, Reg and Tasha made their way to the General's quarters.
Reg and Tasha burst into the room to find General Picard and Subcommander Riker standing over a battleplan at a table in the centre of the room.
"Hope you don't mind us dropping in," Reg smirked.
"Barclay!" Picard cried.
"What are you doing here?" Riker demanded as he drew his side arm.
"We were in the neighbourhood," Barclay replied.
Riker lunged for Barclay, but Tasha had a clean shot.
"And now what to do with you?" Barclay said as he closed in on Picard.
General Picard stepped behind the table and looked for anything he could use as a weapon.
"I say feed him to his soldiers," Tasha suggested. "After all, he's the monster that turned them into these…things."
"Seems only fitting, doesn't it?" Barclay asked.
He grabbed Picard and drug him to the door. Tossing him into the corridor, Barclay closed and sealed the metal door behind him leaving General Picard to face his own undead soldiers.
It was not a moment too soon. Tasha and Reg could hear them banging at the door, fighting to get in.
Reg set the pack down on the table and retrieved the payload.
It was a small device designed to release a toxic gas that would permeate the area and wipe out all the undead soldiers. Unfortunately, it was going to kill them too. Like a bomb, the device was on a timer. Once triggered, they would have two minutes to detonation.
"Well, this is it," Barclay said as he keyed in the activation.
Tasha lowered her gun and set it down on the table.
The countdown began. Reg turned to his second-in-command.
The dead were quite literally knocking at the door.
"They're going to break through any second," Tasha said breathlessly.
"Probably," Reg said as he detached the shoulder strap of his own firearm and set it on the table.
"This is it then," Tasha murmured as she took a step closer.
She rested her hands on Barclay's chest and looked up at him.
"I never thought we'd go out like this, but I'm glad that it's with you," Tasha confessed.
Reg slipped his arms around her, resting his hand on the small of her exposed back thanks to her gritty, post-apocalyptic crop top.
Tasha ran her hands over his biceps.
"You're so strong," she remarked. "I've always admired the way you take command."
"Lieutenant, you are standing awfully close and as your commanding officer may I just-," Barclay said in a low voice.
"Then let me just say this, it was an honour serving with you, sir," Tasha said, cutting him off.
She captured his lips in a heated kiss.
The door to the General's room burst open and the undead began to spill inside.
"La Forge to Barclay!" Geordi's voice rang out from his combadge.
Reg groaned.
"Computer, freeze programme," Barclay ordered.
He cleared his throat and then responded, acknowledging Geordi's hail.
"Reg, is everything OK?" Geordi asked. "I came to see if you needed a hand with the antigrav unit."
"I-I-I'm fine," Reg responded.
"Ok, well do you have a working theory yet? Anything I can assist with?" Geordi asked.
Reg closed his eyes and grumbled to himself.
He hated feeling pressured.
"Not yet," Reg responded.
"Do you have a timeline for when you may have a theory?" Geordi inquired.
"I'm working on it," Reg replied.
There was a pause.
"I, uh, needed to take a walk to clear my head and wanted to run some simulations before proceeding," Reg covered.
It was partially true.
"Alright, well, when can I expect you back here?" Geordi asked.
Lieutenant La Forge believed everyone should have the ability to step away when needed. He didn't mind his officers taking a break – in fact, he encouraged it. And he didn't require anyone to keep a strict schedule.
It was a system that worked out just fine – as long as the work got done.
"I'll be there in an hour," Reg replied.
Being caught by Geordi off the job had dialled his anxiety right back up to eleven. He would need to compose himself, shower, and change before returning to work.
"Alright, I'll see you then," Geordi said.
Barclay physically shook his limbs as he tried to loosen back up.
He looked down to where the holographic Lieutenant Yar was waiting, frozen in time – eyes closed, lips puckered.
Reg glanced over to the door where there was a line of motionless zeds just waiting to rip them to pieces.
"Computer, maintain file Yar but reset to Barclay Programme thirty-two," Reg ordered.
The zombies vanished, the bunker faded and disappeared, and the was replaced by an open tent. They were surrounded by jungle. The tent was the only thing protecting them from a downpour of rain.
"Computer, resume programme," Barclay ordered.
He turned back to the now unfrozen Tasha, her programme having reset.
"Now where were we?" Reg asked with a smile.
"Sir, we've completed the perimeter check. Data and Worf are working on the repairs to the jeep," Tasha advised.
"I'll take first watch," Reg said.
"Then I'll keep you company," Tasha replied.
Reg sat down on the edge of his cot.
Tasha crawled up behind him and started to massage his shoulders.
"Thanks," Reg sighed.
He was still feeling frustrated from the situation with Geordi.
"I can't imagine carrying around all that responsibility," Tasha said as she kneaded his back. "It must be why you have such broad shoulders."
"I'm gangly. I've always been gangly. Even when I try to build muscle, it never seems to work," Reg sighed. "But thanks. I appreciate you saying that, even if you are programmed to do so."
"I've always got your back, Lieutenant," Tasha whispered against his ear.
Reg stumbled into Cargo Bay Five seventy-three minutes later and hurriedly glanced around to ensure he was alone.
He breathed a sigh of relief that La Forge wasn't present.
Reg was two metres away from the antigrav unit when the doors slid open and Geordi came in.
"Hey! Is it a problem for you to report to duty on time, Lieutenant?" Geordi asked.
Geordi had arrived fifteen minutes earlier and had waited around for Reg. When he didn't show, Geordi searched Engineering to see if he was there instead – he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt in case Reg had gone their first.
"No, no, sir. I'm very sorry, sir," Reg stammered. "I just had a very important communique which required my immediate response and-"
"I don't want to hear it!" Geordi replied in exasperation.
It was the fourth time in the last two weeks that Reg had disappeared during his shift and then been late getting back.
"Reg, I want you to take a break when you need one. But you can't just disappear for hours and then roll in late," Geordi explained.
"I-i-it won't happen a-again," Reg promised.
"It better not," Geordi said. "Now, we need to get this antigrav unit functioning. What have you got?"
After three hours of work, they were no closer to a solution. Geordi and Reg had taken apart the power core, stripped the couplings, and removed and tested each relay independent of the unit.
Geordi's knees were starting to ache.
He sat back and scratched the back of his head.
"Look, Reg. Let's call it a night. I think a little sleep might do us both some good," Geordi sighed. "I'm going to bring Ensign Crusher and Data in on this in the morning."
Reg nodded in understanding.
He returned his tools to the kit and followed Geordi back to Engineering to check them in.
"Say, I'm going to stop by Ten Forward for a drink if you want to join me?" Geordi offered.
"No, thank you," Reg replied. "I just need some sleep."
Reg knew that Geordi was likely going to meet Data and Miles. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself in front of the senior officers because he didn't know what to say or how to act.
"Alright then, see you tomorrow. 08:00," Geordi said.
As they left Engineering, Geordi noticed that Reg got out on deck 11 – where most of the primary holodecks were located.
Geordi knew that Reg's quarters were on deck 7.
He had suspected that Reg had been spending a lot of time there lately and Geordi was starting to grow worried that it was interfering with his duties.
"Have a good night, Reg," Geordi said as the lift closed.
On his way to the holodeck, Reg stopped at the canteen on deck 11 and replicated a dinner for himself which he took to the holodeck.
"Computer, load Barclay programme fourteen," Barclay ordered.
A fictional canteen emerged. The senior officers were seated at one of the long tables.
"Hey! You made it!" a holographic Riker called out.
"Please, join us," Data said.
"Yeah, slide in here," Beverly offered as she moved down to make room for Barclay between herself and Deanna.
Barclay slipped into the open seat.
"How was your day?" Deanna inquired.
"Oh, you know. The usual," Barclay said as the stabbed his fork into the noodles on his plate.
Geordi stepped into Ten Forward where Data and Miles were waiting for him at their usual table.
He slipped into a free chair and Miles passed him a frost mug and the pitcher of ale.
"Sorry I'm late, ran into a bit of trouble with that antigrav unit," Geordi commented.
"The same one as before?" Miles asked in surprise.
Geordi nodded.
"Was Lieutenant Barclay unsuccessful in diagnosing the problem?" Data inquired.
Geordi took a long sip and then set his glass down.
"Truth be told, I think Barclay skipped out to the holodeck for a few hours this afternoon instead," Geordi shared.
"He does spend a lot of time there," Miles remarked.
"It's like he's lost in his own little world, and I don't know how to pull him out of it," Geordi confessed.
"Perhaps the holodeck affords him a place to better engage with and emulate human behaviour?" Data suggested.
After all, it had proven to be a vital tool for Data to explore such interactions in his own development.
"Let's talk about something else," Geordi grumbled.
He didn't want to think about Barclay.
"What about you Chief? You and Keiko set a date yet?" Geordi inquired.
"Not officially," Miles responded.
Ever since popping the question, they'd been struggling to set a wedding date.
"She wants our families there. I don't want my father coming," Miles grumbled. "You know the last time he was here I was lucky Captain Picard didn't toss him off the ship."
Miles shrugged.
"I don't know. And she wants to talk about having a baby. Not right away, mind you," Miles put his hand up quickly. "So don't start getting any ideas. Down the road, but she wants to sort it all out and set a timeline."
Miles shook his head and swirled the ale in his glass.
"Don't get me wrong, I want to. I just wanted to spend a little more time enjoying this engagement first," Miles confessed.
Miles turned and shot Data a glance.
"What about you? Now that you've found out there's juice in your meat and two veg?" Miles asked.
Data cocked his head to the side in confusion.
"He means now that you've discovered, well, that you're," Geordi cleared his throat. "The discovery we made in your torso, you know, the nacelles."
Data back in his chair and looked between his two companions.
"If you are referring to the discovery that I retain samples of Doctor Soong's DNA, that is a matter of protracted discussion and rather premature," Data said simply. "Furthermore, may I state the human compulsion to avoid simply calling reproductive organs by their names is a most perplexing human trait."
Data wasn't ready to unpack that yet with his friends – he hadn't even really had time to process it himself, let alone discuss the matter at length with Tasha.
"Alright, you guys want to shoot darts then?" Geordi suggested.
Miles balked.
"The last time we did that I got roped into summat I'd just as soon forget," Miles said hotly.
Reg Barclay stirred in his sleep. He was having a wonderful dream.
Captain Picard was awarding him a commendation for saving the ship. Commander Riker was shaking his hand. Counsellor Troi leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Barclay awoke abruptly and sat up in bed.
He looked around his darkened quarters as his eyes adjusted to the light.
Barclay glanced at the clock on his nightstand and blanched.
07:48.
He scrambled out of bed and into action – grabbing a uniform from the floor and throwing on his boots. There would be no time to shave or grab a bite of breakfast. He would have to settle for brushing his teeth and a dab of cologne.
He was already going to be late enough as it was.
Barclay couldn't understand how the lifts always seemed to operate slower when he was running late.
It just seems that way because you're always running late. He could hear his mother say.
As soon as he stepped onto the cargo bay, Reg felt like he was under scrutiny.
"Nice of you to join us, Lieutenant," Geordi said with a hint of disappointment.
"Good morning, Lieutenant Barclay," Data greeted him.
As soon as Geordi was done outlining the plan for the day, Commander Riker asked if he could see Barclay alone for a moment.
"Mister Barclay, I'm tired of seeing your name on report," Commander Riker explained. "I don't know what you got away with at your last posting, but this is the Enterprise. We set a different standard here, understood?"
"Understood, sir," Barclay nodded.
Working as a team, Data, Geordi, Miles, Wesley, and Reg worked to completely take apart the antigrav unit. It was their goal to test each of the various systems in independent lab tests and by feeding them into different antigrav units before putting it all back together as one.
It was their hope that such an effort could isolate the problem and give them an idea of where to start.
"Lieutenant La Forge, I'm due in class in fifteen minutes. May I resume my work after?" Wesley requested.
"Sure thing, Wes. Say, why don't we all take a break and meet back after lunch. Say 13:00?" Geordi proposed.
The door to Tasha's quarters slid open and Data found her sitting on the couch in the dark.
"Tasha?" Data inquired.
She was resting her head back against the ledge of the window, her eyes were closed.
"Hmmm?" she responded without getting up.
"Are you ill?" Data asked as he approached her.
"No, just knackered," Tasha confessed. "I've been running all over the ship this morning. And I really do mean all over."
Data stepped over to the replicator.
"You require sustenance," Data commented. "What would you prefer?"
"I don't care," Tasha said as she hauled herself up from the sofa.
Data selected one of their usual lunchtime meals and the replicator produced two trays of hasperat. He snagged Tasha's favourite hot sauce off the shelf next to the replicator and brought them over to the table.
"Thanks," Tasha said as he slid the plate in front of her.
"What has been the problem?" Data inquired.
"I was going to fill you in over lunch," Tasha explained as she coated the contents of her plate in her 'Tears of the Prophets' hot sauce.
Data would never understand the desire she had to inflame and injure her tongue with such a substance.
"Mmm," she keened appreciatively as she chewed on a bite of it.
Data had noticed she had a tendency to increase her consumption of hot foods whenever she was stressed.
"May I remind you that consuming too much capsaicin can result in abdominal cramping," Data said.
During their brief row in which Data did not communicate with her for several days, Tasha had packed away nearly two entire bottles of hot sauce, a jar of Bajoran Fire Viper peppers, and enough spicy pickles to make anyone sick.
He'd heard about it second-hand from Worf after she'd cancelled their holodeck workouts for the foreseeable future due to nausea and stomach cramps.
Tasha shot him a look and Data got the message.
"I don't know what's going on, but I've got reports all over the ship of suspected break-ins and vandalism – samples in the Astromycology lab, the glass sculpture in the Arboretum, some of the tables in the crew quarters," Tasha said. "It's very strange."
Tasha explained that she had reached out to Beverly to ask her if any of the tissue samples they brought aboard could have caused some disease or illness that would cause people to become destructive.
Unfortunately, that angle had turned up nothing.
"That is most unusual," Data agreed.
"The weirdest part of all of it is I can't find any evidence of anyone or anything doing this," Tasha shared.
Her Security teams had conducted a number of level one sweeps looking for any residual traces of evidence and come up empty-handed. There were no signs of anyone tampering with the damaged materials nor did any of the sensor readings at the doors coincide.
For example, no one had been in and out of the Astromycology lab between when Gamma shift had left and when Alpha shift had discovered the damage.
"I'm at a loss, Data," Tasha shrugged.
"I will schedule some time to join you and investigate this afternoon," Data said.
"Thanks," she replied.
"Would you care for the pickles?" Data inquired as he offered them to her.
He had found he did not necessarily enjoy the sour snack.
"You sure know a way to a girl's heart," she grinned.
"It sure is something out here, Sheriff Barclay," a holographic Beverly Crusher said.
"You should see it at night, Miss Beverly," Barclay replied. "When all the stars come out."
They were sitting atop a blanket in Barclay's spaghetti western programme. A few metres away, Barclay's horse stomped the ground as a lone tumbleweed rolled past.
He brought his lunch in to share with her and enjoy some time in the open air.
Barclay had rode into town and picked her up from Madame Guinan's Saloon. It was so easy to talk to Miss Beverly. Like the real Doctor Crusher, she was always so kind to him and endlessly patient.
"I'd like to come out here sometime and watch the stars with you, Sheriff," Beverly said as she stroked his hair.
He was resting his head in her lap, his Stetson hat setting atop his chest as he chewed on a piece of straw.
"Well, the next time I ride through these parts I'll swing by and pick you up again," Barclay promised.
He could pause and reset the programme for the evening, but Reg had to get back to work and didn't want to fall asleep.
As if on cue, Reg's communicator activated.
"La Forge to Barclay," Geordi's voice called out.
Barclay rolled his eyes.
"Duty calls, my dear," Reg said before pausing the programme.
"Yes, Lieutenant?" Barclay responded in annoyance.
He had just found a sliver of peace – only to have it interrupted once again.
"It's 13:10, Mr Barclay," Geordi informed him.
Barclay's stomach dropped.
"I-I-I'm on my way," Barclay stuttered.
He leapt up from the blanket.
"Computer, save programme and discontinue!" Barclay hollered as he raced off the deck.
"I just don't know what to do with him," Geordi sighed as he put his hands on his hips. "The guy's always late, he never gives his best effort, just slides by."
Geordi was at the end of patience with the socially awkward Lieutenant.
"I can't tolerate it anymore. I mean, how does a guy like that make it through the Academy?" Geordi pondered aloud.
"Lieutenant Barclay has been on report numerous times for tardiness," Data advised. "It would seem such a disciplinary action has been ineffective at curbing the behaviour."
"I think it's time we talked to the Captain about Broccoli," Riker suggested.
Geordi and Data looked at Riker for an explanation.
"That's what Wesley calls him. Keep it to yourself," Riker cautioned.
"Well, it fits," Geordi remarked.
"Excuse me, why is Lieutenant Barclay being referred to clandestinely as a vegetable?" Data inquired.
"It's a joke, Data. You know, a nickname," Commander Riker explained.
Data's face soured.
While he may not have initially understood, Data now felt that he had enough information to pick up on what was occurring. Having been the subject of plenty of derogatory nicknames himself, Data felt it was necessary to point this out.
"Nicknames generally denote fondness, a diminutive shared between friends," Data said. "That does not appear to be the case."
Riker and Geordi suddenly felt bad.
"You're absolutely right, Data," Geordi said. "The nickname stops here and now."
It was not a moment too soon as the doors to the cargo bay slid open. Reg Barclay rushed in, sweaty and out of breath having rushed over.
"If you will excuse me, I need to go assist Security. It would seem there is an outbreak of vandalism as various glass structures across the Enterprise have recently been broken," Data advised.
Captain Picard glanced down at the report on his tablet and scratched his chin.
"I'm not accustomed to seeing an unsatisfactory rating for one of my crew," Picard confessed.
He prided himself on having fine officers and it was unusual for an individual to be stationed aboard the flagship with such a lacklustre performance record. After the situation with Ensign Walsh, Picard had asked all of his senior officers to step up in reporting any such possible problems – Picard wanted them rooted out before they became an issue.
"I guess the issue we need to resolve is whether Mr Barclay is Enterprise material," Riker said.
"I assume you are bringing this to my attention because you think he is not, Lieutenant?" Picard asked as he looked to Geordi for elaboration.
Geordi didn't want to speak ill of one of his officers, but it was hard to ignore the signs.
"I hate to say it, but I've always thought I could work with anybody. But Lieutenant Barclay doesn't seem to get it. I've given him chance after chance," Geordi explained. "He's rarely on time. When he's working, it's like his brain is lightyears away."
Captain Picard turned back to his tablet and skimmed through Barclay's service record.
"I don't understand. His ratings aboard the Zhukov were satisfactory and I recall Captain Gleason speaking quite highly of him before his transfer," Picard commented.
"In retrospect, I wonder if Captain Gleason wasn't buttering our bread a little," Riker suggested.
"He knew we were looking for a diagnostic engineer," Geordi chimed in.
Before approaching the Captain, Commander Riker had done his due diligence in researching Barclay's personnel file.
"I've examined Barclay's psychological profile. He's had a history of reclusive tendencies. It was noted at the Academy more than once," Riker explained.
"And yet, he chose to accept this assignment, this way of life," Picard countered. "He has made the same commitment to Starfleet that we all have. Why would he accept an assignment to such a large ship then?"
Geordi shrugged.
"Maybe he wanted a fresh start," Geordi surmised.
"Then lets him get that fresh start," Picard ordered as he sat forward.
He set the tablet down on the surface of the desk and folded his hands.
"It's easy to transfer a problem to someone else. Too easy," Picard explained. "I want us to commit to helping Mr Barclay find a home here on the Enterprise."
Geordi wasn't keen to contradict the Captain, but he suspected Captain Picard didn't fully grasp the problem.
"Captain, I've made a serious effort to include Mr Barclay in social events, engage him while on shifts together. The guy doesn't want to be a part of the ship," Geordi said. "And lately, I've caught him sneaking off the holodecks when he's supposed to be on duty. He just disappears."
"Do you think it could be holodiction?" Riker asked seriously.
His own recent experience on the holodeck left him wondering if Barclay had found a community there that he preferred. Riker could understand how it easy it could be to lose oneself in a world of fantasy.
"Why don't you two check into it? Holodiction or not, I want you make Mr Barclay your new best friend, is that clear?" Picard ordered.
Across the ship, Data and Tasha weren't having much luck. They were in the Arboretum examining the damage from the large glass sculpture that had been destroyed.
"We found shards in locations that are marked there and there," Tasha said as she pointed at the ground. "As you can see, the base of the structure remains intact, so it wasn't structural failure."
Data scanned the debris and came to the same conclusion.
"This is most unusual," Data commented.
"Right?" Tasha asked. "It's like we've got a phantom running around breaking all the glass."
She looked up from her Security tricorder and grinned, signalling that her statement was only a joke.
Data gave her a small smile in return.
They had just wrapped up Brain Slug From Base 13 and were preparing to start a new book – Howl of Horror about ghosts on a remote dilithium mining colony.
"Was there anyone else here before you arrived?" Data inquired.
Keiko shook her head.
"No, the log doesn't show anyone was in here overnight. Miles and I were the last two here. He came to hang out while I was taking samples from those Bolian tubers," Keiko explained. "In fact, we were sitting right next to it for over an hour. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary."
Data and Tasha left the Arboretum with no additional clues.
They had been through the Astromycology lab, the Arboretum, and several of the crew quarters examining the damage. In each instance, it was like the glass itself had broken with no explicable cause.
"I'm telling you, this is like a phantom," Tasha said as they slipped into a table in a quiet corner of Ten Forward.
Tasha's Security Office was a hub of activity and Data's office was technically his personal quarters. Neither of them felt it was appropriate to utilise the space for their meeting – it could be misinterpreted, and they didn't want to cross that professional line.
So, they had agreed on heading to Ten Forward to chat.
"Thanks," Tasha said as Guinan handed her a glass of iced tea.
"Tough day?" Guinan inquired.
"In a manner of speaking," Data responded.
"Then I'll leave you to it," Guinan said before dipping out to return to the bar.
Data took a sip of his own beverage and swallowed his nutrient supplement.
"My investigation of the atmospheric control records for each location mean that we can now rule out a malfunction as having caused any damage," Data reported.
Tasha picked up her glass to take a sip when all of sudden it began to leak from the bottom.
"What the hell?" she asked as she watched the liquid spill out.
She managed to plug the leak with her finger and walked it over to a disposal sink behind the bar.
Tasha returned a moment later with a flannel in hand as she mopped up the liquid on the table.
"What happened to your glass?" Data inquired.
"What happened to yours?" Tasha asked.
Data looked down and realised his own glass was also leaking.
Guinan came rushing over with a tray and flannel to help clean it up.
"Guinan, I will need to clean up and retrieve a fresh uniform. Can you please set those two glasses aside and not reprocess them?" Data requested. "I would like to take them to my lab for examination. I believe they may be related to a series of issues we have experienced across the ship."
"You got it," Guinan asked. "How convenient I had Mr Barclay reprogramme my replicator to offer the option of metal glasses. I think that will come in handy today."
After helping Guinan with the mess, Data and Tasha left to see to themselves.
Data glanced down at Tasha in surprise when she ordered the lift to his deck only.
"It'll save time if we shower together," Tasha smirked.
"Then it would appear you are coming to my quarters for business after all," Data replied.
"Strictly business," Tasha said innocently.
Over in Cargo Bay Five, Geordi had stopped by to check on Lieutenant Barclay's progress.
"Hey, Reg. How, er, how's it going?" Geordi inquired.
Barclay was seated cross-legged on the floor, examining the components of the antigrav unit.
"Oh, it's, well, I still h-haven't traced down the p-problem," Reg confessed.
"That's alright," Geordi assured him.
It seemed Barclay's tension eased a little with Geordi's reassurance. He responded well.
So far so good, La Forge. Geordi thought.
To Geordi's relief, Reg managed to open up a little. He shared that he was planning to run diagnostics on the graviton invertor circuits and see if there was any problem there. It was a minor subsystem. Although it was highly unlikely to be the cause, Geordi appreciated Reg taking the time to be thorough and rule it out.
"That's a smart plan," Geordi said, praising him. "Sounds like we're in good hands here."
"I'll see you get a preliminary report," Barclay promised.
"No rush. Whenever," Geordi replied.
"Before the end of the day," Barclay said quickly.
He wasn't sure what made him promise that, but Reg wanted to impress Geordi. He hoped that documenting all of his work would demonstrate his efforts – even if there still hadn't been a result.
The doors to the cargo bay opened and Wesley Crusher entered. He was back from his classwork and ready to resume his duties as an Acting Ensign.
"Everything I've seen here indicates this is not a maintenance problem," Reg went on as he walked Geordi through his findings. "I'm going to check for a surge in the transfer coils just to be safe."
"Oh, a surge in the transfer coils wouldn't have caused this," Wes said as he sat to resume his own work.
He hadn't meant to sound patronising, but it had come across as such, nonetheless.
"I-I realise that," Barclay said, finding the courage to assert himself.
"But we shouldn't ignore the possibility," Geordi offered, hoping to smooth things over.
The last thing Geordi wanted was to see Reg shut down again because of an unintended slight.
"You should check the flow capacitor. A breakdown in that could have caused a chain collapse," Wes suggested.
Wesley was only trying to be helpful. But Geordi could see that it was starting to impact Barclay in a negative manner.
"Say, Reg. How about sitting in on the inter-departmental mission briefing with the senior officers in the morning?" Geordi suggested.
Reg's throat grew tight. It was like his brain blew a fuse.
The very last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself in front of all the senior officers. He suspected that they already held such a small opinion of him, he didn't want that to slip any further.
Despite this fear, Reg felt pressured.
There was no way he could say no to Geordi.
Geordi noticed that Barclay seemed nervous, so he attempted to build up his confidence.
"I'd like your input," Geordi added.
"Erm, do you want me to prepare a report?" Reg squeaked.
Geordi shook his head.
"No, no. Just be there. I'd like you to share your thoughts. 08:00 sharp," Geordi said.
"I'll be on time, sir," Reg replied as he turned his attention back to his tablet.
"I just didn't know what to say," Barclay confessed.
Reg sighed and crossed his hands on his abdomen.
He was lying down on the sofa in Counsellor Troi's office.
Well, her holographic office. He couldn't bring himself to seek out her counselling services in the real world. Hell, he could barely muster waving at her in the corridor.
But he always felt better after a chat with the holographic Counsellor Troi. She was so patient and understanding. And she knew just what to say to set him at ease.
"What do you wish you had said?" Deanna asked.
"I wish I would have told him to mind his own business," Barclay grumbled. "I knew about the flux capacitor!"
Wesley's attempt to help had ruffled Barclay's feathers.
"I certainly didn't need to hear about it from some seventeen-year-old kid," Barclay fumed.
"You are letting it get you much too upset," Deanna advised.
"You think so?" Reg asked as he sat up.
He valued her opinion as much as anything.
Deanna nodded.
"I understand your frustration, but let go of it. You're here now," Deanna explained. "Why are you always so hard on yourself?"
Reg shrugged.
"It's hard for me. And I feel like I let everyone down," Reg confessed. "I just get so anxious and then I panic."
"Of course. Let me help you relax," Deanna offered.
She stepped over to the sofa and began to rub his shoulders.
Reg relaxed as soon as her holographic hands made contact with his sore arms.
"I'd like that," Reg said as he closed his eyes.
"I knew you would," Deanna grinned.
She planted a soft kiss on the side of his neck.
"Mmmm, that's nice," Barclay responded. "But I'm in the mood for someplace a little more unusual."
It had been a while since he'd run one of his more interactive programmes.
And the situation with Acting Ensign Crusher had him steamed.
"Computer, Run Barclay programme nine," Reg ordered. "And, computer, simulate costume Barclay twenty-nine."
Deanna's office disappeared.
Barclay inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of the saltwater in the air. He wiggled his toes, staring down at his leather shoes, stitched together with rudimentary ties.
He glanced down at the cove below and grinned.
Pushing off from the limestone bluff above, he floated down and landed on a large rock in the centre of the lagoon.
"It's Peter!" Deanna cried out.
She hopped off the nearest rock and dove into the water, emerging a moment later at Barclay's feet. The maroon and purple shimmer of her mermaid tail fluttered beneath the clear blue water as she raised her translucent fins above the surface.
"Peter!" Beverly called out, waving as she saw his approach.
She had been under a waterfall, washing her signature red hair in the stream.
Beverly slipped into the water and swam over to join them. Were it not for her ginger locks, Reg was certain he would lose her in the water. The blue colour of her fin was nearly indecipherable from the colour of the lagoon.
"Hello ladies!" Reg said as he sat down on the rock, sporting his signature feathered cap.
"Why did you stay away so long?" Deanna asked.
"Did you miss me?" Beverly questioned as she emerged from the water.
She pulled herself up onto the rock, propped her elbow up, and rested her chin against her hand.
"Tell us one of your adventures," Deanna pleaded. "Something exciting!"
Reg grinned.
"Wanna hear about the time I cut off Captain Hook's hand and threw it to the crocodile?" Reg asked.
"Oh! I've always liked that one!" Deanna said, beaming.
"Me too! You're so brave," Beverly sighed.
Barclay stood up. He cleared his throat and prepared to tell the story had known well since childhood.
"Well there I was on Marooner's Rock, surrounded by no less than fifty pirates," Reg began.
He pulled out his dagger and got into a defensive stance.
"And mean old Captain Hook was-"
Reg stopped as he felt something tugging on his ear.
"Hey! Hey! Watch it!" Reg said.
He turned his head to see a familiar friend.
"Hi T," Reg grinned.
The miniscule pixie version of Tasha Yar hovered in front of him, her tiny incandescent wings fluttering to keep her afloat.
She made a sour face and crossed her arms.
"I'm sorry I was gone so long," Reg apologised.
Tasha shook her head, the tell-tale jingling bell sound of her fairy language chiming as she eyed Barclay angrily.
"I'm in the middle of a story," Barclay protested.
The pixie version of Tasha squared her shoulders back and pulled herself all the way up to her seven-inch wingspan as she stared back at him defiantly.
It never ceased to amaze Reg that even in this form, she still managed to carry a weight of authority that could intimidate him.
She was pointing to the edge of the lagoon.
"Can't it wait?" Reg asked.
"Yeah! We want to hear Peter's story," Deanna protested.
Tasha started pointing and miming frantically, desperate to get her message across.
"T, stop," Reg ordered.
Across the water he could hear it. It was like a shadow was approaching from a distance.
There was an unsettling tick-tock-tick-tock that was growing ever closer.
"Hook!" Reg said in a hushed voice.
Wherever the sound of the crocodile's tick-tock could be heard, it meant that Captain Hook was close at hand – after all, the croc followed Hook all around Neverland.
Deanna and Beverly retreated underwater to seek safety in the depths of the lagoon.
"We gotta hide, Tink," Barclay instructed as he scooped her up.
Tasha rolled her eyes as they floated behind a nearby rock for safety.
She wiggled out of his grasp and drifted up to sit on his shoulder. From their hiding spot, they watched as Captain Hook – played by none other than Captain Picard – stood prominently at the edge of a small rowboat.
Behind him, Mr Smee, who suspiciously resembled Barclay's former commanding officer, rowed them along across the water.
A few seconds after they passed, Reg watched as the crocodile could be seen trailing the boat.
Data and Tasha were seated on the sofa in her quarters with their feet thrown up on the coffee table.
She was resting her head in the crook of his arm as she flipped through a series of available sheet music in the ship's library.
Several months earlier, Tasha had taken up playing a Klingon string instrument known as a Gat'leth. It was shaped like a Bat'leth with a long neck like a guitar and had eight strings.
While she had many skills – music was not one of them.
But she was eager to improve, and Data had offered to help. As he played a variety of instruments himself, Data had suggested that they find something they could play together.
It would serve as an activity they could share and hopefully help to improve her skill.
"What about this one?" Tasha suggested.
"If that is your desire," Data said.
"We're supposed to find something we can do together," Tasha reminded him.
Data brushed the top of her head with a soft kiss.
"What about this one?" Data suggested as he clicked one of the available options.
It was a Vulcan piece that featured a slow tempo and was composed as a beginner piece.
"Did you pick it because you like it or because you think it will be easy?" Tasha teased.
"I must confess that I do believe-" Data began to say.
He stopped as the glass surface of Tasha's coffee table shattered, sending their feet straight through as it collapsed.
It did no damage to Data, but Tasha's legs were fairly cut up.
She hissed as she pulled them back up and away from the wreckage.
It was strange – they had sat like this on numerous occasions. The table was constructed to withstand such pressure, so it was not a matter of applying too much weight.
"What the hell is going on?" Tasha asked.
She was about to radio to have the transporter room lock onto the glass and beam it directly to the waste processing unit when Data stopped her.
"We will need to study this," Data said. "I will have it beamed to my lab."
"Not tonight," Tasha pleaded.
They'd been running around chasing broken glass all day. She just wanted to relax with Data, especially given that things were still a bit tender from their encounter with Lore.
"Do you want to take a walk?" Tasha asked. "I don't even want to look at broken glass right now."
Data's eyes lit up.
"May I offer a suggestion?" Data inquired.
Twenty minutes later, Data and Tasha stepped off the lift onto deck 11. Data had convinced Tasha to throw on her bathing costume and they'd headed off to the holodeck.
He knew that stargazing helped her to relax and there had been a programme he was dying to try.
After patching up her minor abrasions with a dermal regenerator, Data knew that the mineral baths on Erdu VII would be perfect.
They had been crawling and crouching all day as they chased their mysterious glass phantom. Data knew that the soft mineral water would work wonders on Tasha's aching back. And even Data found a warm soak a relaxing experience.
It was late enough that holodecks were sure to be abandoned.
They were nearly to Holodeck Four when the doors to Holodeck Three opened and Reg Barclay stepped out into the corridor.
"Lieutenant," Data said.
"Hi Reg," Tasha smiled.
"Good evening," Reg said shortly before retreating for the lift.
"Good night," Data responded.
Once they were inside the holodeck, Data queued up the programme. Tasha slipped off the football jersey she had worn over her bathing costume and sank down into the water.
"Mmm, this is perfect," she said as she closed her eyes and rested her head back against the rock behind her.
A moment later, Data slid in behind her.
"I lied," Tasha said as she rested her head back against his chest. "This is perfect."
Data snaked his arms around her waist and breathed deeply as he felt her relax.
"There is no glass here," Data said.
"Don't even say the word," Tasha teased.
"Of course, my dear," Data replied.
"You know, is it just me or did Barclay seem a little more off, tonight?" Tasha asked.
Data considered her statement. His performance in Engineering had slipped in recent weeks. Data knew that Reg was a brilliant engineer, but he lacked discipline and focus.
"I mean he's always been a bit odd," Tasha went on.
"He does seem to avoid social interaction with the rest of the crew," Data agreed. "However, perhaps he does not feel welcome?"
"I dunno. I mean he's shy," Tasha confessed. "But I get the impression there's something else going on. It's like he's anxious."
Data couldn't deny that her assessment seemed to match his own observations. Barclay's heart rate jumped whenever he had to interact with any of the senior officers. He struggled to articulate himself and was often tardy.
"He does seem to go out of his way to avoid speaking with myself, Geordi, or the Chief," Data shared.
"I wonder if he's struggling with something personally, you know? I mean he's all alone on the ship. Maybe he's got family problems or something? I'd invite him to coffee but I'm afraid he'd faint," Tasha remarked. "Practically trips over himself whenever we meet in the canteen or the corridor."
Now that Tasha thought more about it, Barclay had a habit of doing that around most of the senior officers.
"Maybe you should try getting to know him more? You know, invite him to hang out," Tasha suggested.
Data nodded.
"Mr Barclay has occassionally been amenable to such offers," Data replied.
He could empathise. Data recalled his own struggle to connect and socialise with others at the Academy and during many of his earlier assignments.
"Perhaps we should we invite him to join us for a social outing?" Data suggested.
Tasha shook her head.
"I'm not sure that's a such a good idea," Tasha said.
Tasha suspected Barclay was doubly nervous around women.
"I don't think he's ever made eye contact with me," Tasha said. "It's like he's afraid of how I'm going to look at him."
Tasha sighed and turned around to face Data.
"Am I that scary?" she asked.
"Positively terrifying," Data teased as he crossed his arms behind her.
"Oh good," Tasha replied as she nuzzled her nose against his.