The Complication

by CharlieFenwick

Data struggles to reconcile the discrepancies between Tasha's verbal and nonverbal communication during and after the events of Ligon II. "Am I the 'complication?" Data asked. Data begins to develop emotions. Tasha/Data fluff & angst. Data/Geordi friendship. Covers the events of TNG season 1 with- missing scenes, original adventures, and some mild AU retelling of events.

59. The Joke's On Me

Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful support!

The next two-parter is intended to be 100% fluff and fun. It is partially inspired by the M*A*S*H episodes of Bottoms Up, April Fools, and The Joker is Wild.

I ask that you suspend your disbelief a little with this chapter. It's a wee bit silly. But I couldn't fight temptation.

I wanted to do something for April Fools Day and it's to balance out some of the heavier subject matter we'll address in the upcoming chapters that are centred around Too Short A Season and Home Soil.

---

"What's wrong?" Worf asked, noting a sour look on Tasha's face.

She was chewing on her lip as she read through the latest Federation news on her PADD tablet.

Worf, Tasha, Commander Riker, Data, Geordi, and Miles were sitting around a table together at Ten Forward.

They had just completed a joint Operations and Security training on the holodeck, and everyone was now relaxing with a cold pint.

"Commander Olivia Jalinski was killed in an accident onboard the Kyushu," Tasha read. "During a maintenance cycle."

That's odd. Tasha thought to herself.

She had flagged the suspicious story as soon she had seen her name listed in the death notices. Ever since her conversation with Captain Rixx, Tasha had been reading the Starfleet KIA and MIA daily reports with keen interest.

"Wasn't Jalinski on the Hood?" Geordi asked.

"Yeah, she was a good officer," Riker commented. "Not much older than me. Just made Commander a year ago."

"Maintenance cycle?" Miles asked in disbelief. "Are there any other details?"

Tasha skimmed through the report. It was pretty scant on specifics.

One more fishy death. Tasha thought darkly.

She was pulled from her thoughts as Guinan brought over a tray of food.

"Alright, I've got two fish and chips, an Andorian seafood starter, the pork pie, a Klingon protein platter, and a meatless hot mess burger for the lady," Guinan said as she slid the plates out around the table.

She shot Tasha a look as Tasha snagged the hot sauce before Worf could grab it.

"You know some chefs might be offended by somebody trying to kill their taste buds," Guinan quipped.

"Thanks," Tasha replied.

She was truly grateful.

When Guinan had first added her famous hot mess burger to the menu, she couldn't figure out why Tasha didn't bite. After learning Tasha was a vegetarian, Guinan set to work developing a way to mimic the same unique blend of spices and peppers with a bean-based burger.

"May your gut rot be glorious," Guinan said as she left them to their dinner.

"So, how are things going with Sonya?" Riker asked.

Geordi smiled shyly and nodded his head side to side.

Ever since their holodeck trip for Data's birthday it seemed like the Chief Engineer and the eager Ensign had really hit it off.

Worf reached for the salt. As soon as he tipped the shaker, the lid came off and covered his food in a pile of the small, white crystals.

Worf closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

"Oh no!" Geordi exclaimed.

"Was that your intention?" Data asked.

Worf shot Data a glare.

"Old salt trick, eh?" Miles said, shaking his head.

Commander Riker was laughing so hard he was nearly in tears.

"This is growing old," Worf growled as he flicked the pile of salt off his tray.

"Oh come on, that's funny! It's a classic," Riker argued.

The other officers shared a look with each other. Without a word, they picked up their trays and moved to another table.

"Guys! Come on. You were smiling, Geordi," Riker called after them. "Data? Data, this is humour."

It was to no avail.

"You keep this up, you're going to be persona non grata," Guinan said as she slipped into the table across from Riker.

"Guinan, I didn't do it," Riker said as he pointed to the pile of salt on the table.

Guinan gave him a look that indicated she didn't quite believe that.

"I didn't," Riker insisted. "I just think it's funny."

Guinan didn't respond and simply began to clean up the mess.

"Surely you can appreciate a classic joke like the old saltshaker prank," Riker remarked.

Guinan stopped and gave Riker a serious look.

"I've seen them all, Commander. This is juvenile. Kids stuff," Guinan said with a shrug.

"Here, let me," Riker said, feeling bad that she had to clean it up.

As soon as the table was set to rights, Riker left Ten Forward alone to return to his quarters.

It was the fourth time in the last two days that one of the senior officers had been the subject of practical joke.

And everyone seemed convinced that Commander Riker was behind this latest string of mischief.

It was true that Commander Riker had been the one responsible for stuffing a box of pastries with mayonnaise for their morning briefing. And he had replaced the thermos of coffee with oyster juice.

But he wasn't the person behind the exploding chocolate cake that was delivered to Deanna, the oatmeal Chief O'Brien found in his boots, nor the airhorn that had been connected to Geordi's toilet seat.

Someone was pranking the crew – and Riker had to admit they were doing an excellent job of it.

When he reached his quarters, Commander Riker turned on one of his music programmes and sank into his favourite chair to relax.

The ship could use a little humour. It was just what they needed.

All in good fun. Riker thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Shortly before midnight, Commander Riker woke up.

He was feeling restless. And he was still a little bothered by the notion that everyone thought he was responsible for the saltshaker trick at dinner.

With no particular destination in mind, Will Riker set off for a walk around the ship.

---

Tasha had just fallen asleep when she heard her emergency frequency alert sound.

It was a special emergency signal known as a 'Silent Red Alert.' It was used whenever signalling a ship wide Red Alert was too dangerous.

Tasha pushed herself up on her elbows and looked down at her combadge on the nightstand. She was alone in Data's quarters. He was due back in about four hours from his overnight shift.

It hadn't been a dream.

And surely no one would ever use such a signal for a practical joke.

Data was on Night Watch. He would never permit that kind of thing.

Tasha scrambled out of bed. She threw on her boots and combadge and raced out Data's quarters.

She reached the nearest turbolift and ordered it to take her to deck nine.

It was a long forty-five seconds.

Her first priority in a situation like this was to secure the security office and armoury.

She ran her hand back through her hair and mentally prepared herself for what was to come.

Romulans? A hostile takeover? An alien entity?

On a ship where an innocent rock could turn out to be a grade one biohazard, there was really no telling.

The worst part was that during a Silent Red Alert there was no way for her to use her combadge to contact the Bridge.

Silent Red Alert meant that their combadges were offline. Radio blackout to ensure they could approach whatever the threat was with stealth and surprise.

Once she was in the Security Office she would be able to hail the Bridge on a secured, emergency channel.

Tasha and Worf reached the door at the same time and ran into one another, stuck as they both tried to squeeze inside.

There hadn't been time for uniforms or a chance to look presentable.

Worf was barefoot wearing nothing more than a pair of drawstring trousers. His hair was a mess. Though he had a great physique, Worf was far too modest to go around without a shirt on – except in an emergency.

Tasha wasn't outfitted much better. She would never be caught dead in public in nothing more than her boots, a grubby old sleeveless tee, and some rather cheeky sleep shorts. The only reason she wore them was Data's quarters had a tendency to grow unbearably hot overnight because of the heat from his workstation.

Tasha queued up the emergency channel and saw it was blank. There was no connection or instructions from the Bridge.

"Security to Bridge," Tasha said as she tapped the channel.

There was only silence.

Worf and Tasha exchanged a dark look.

"A foothold situation?" Worf asked.

"Looks like it," Tasha replied. "Data must have activated the silent emergency before they lost control of the Bridge. We can't risk paging anyone."

"Olivet, White, and Isaacson all have quarters on the next deck," Worf suggested.

Tasha nodded.

Utilising their access codes, Worf and Tasha opened their own personal security weapons lockers.

"Get the others, I'm going to secure the armoury," Tasha ordered as she clipped a phaser holster belt around her waist and then secured the secondary support around her thigh.

Worf slung the strap for phaser rifle over his bare chest.

He clipped a knife holster around his thigh and then a backup that fitted on his forearm.

All in all, it took them less than two minutes to fully gear up.

They didn't know what they would be facing. And situations like this could mean crawling through the Jefferies tubes, lying low, or having to open hatches without power assistance.

Tasha secured her tactical vest in place complete with microcharges, backup level two phasers, an emergency medical pack, and more than enough hand-to-hand weapons to defend herself if it came to it.

Worf and Tasha nodded to each other.

Both of them were struggling to contain the adrenaline pumping through their systems. This is what they had trained for, but it was still unnerving.

"C145 L corridor is the rally point," Tasha said.

"Good luck," Worf replied.

"You too," Tasha said.

They gripped their forearms together – a pact between warriors about the charge into the dangerous unknown.

Worf and Tasha raced out the door into the corridor.

As soon as they stepped foot outside the Security Office, they lost their footing.

Tasha was first. She hit the slick floor and jerked violently before landing facedown with a painful thump.

Worf was half a step behind her. His bare feet had even less traction. He slipped – falling on Tasha and sending them both into the wall.

The heavy impact knocked the wind out of both of them.

Panicked and trying to get a grip on their surroundings, their efforts to get up were met with equally comedic failure as they slipped and slid.

There was a slick, white foam covering the floor outside of the Security Office.

Worf slammed his fist down into the floor.

Tasha tried to tap her communicator and only succeeded in giving herself a face full of foam.

Worf and Tasha stopped scrambling as they heard someone laughing.

"Where's the party?" Will Riker asked.

He fell back and against the wall at the sight of the two Security Officers – dressed in their pyjamas, covered in foam, and sporting half an armoury between the two of them.

"You," Worf barked as he pointed at Riker.

He was furious.

"I didn't do this," Riker said as he threw his hands up.

It was clear from their expression that neither officer was buying it.

"Do you have any idea-" Tasha shouted as she tried to get up.

She slipped again, face-planting back into the foam.

Riker threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"I swear!" Riker insisted. "I'm just out for a walk."

"You expect us to believe your appearance here is just a coincidence?" Worf fumed.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it," Riker said as he clutched his side.

The turbolift doors opened and Data, accompanied by Lieutenants Hawk and Bricker, stepped off the lift.

They looked from Worf and Tasha to Commander Riker.

Data frowned.

Lieutenant Hawk went to try and help up Worf and Tasha.

"Whoa!" Hawk cried as he landed flat on his arse.

Data stepped over – pulling Worf and Hawk up at once and depositing them on an unaffected part of the corridor.

A moment later, he pulled Tasha up by her elbow.

"Are you injured?" Data inquired.

"I'm alright," Tasha said as she rubbed her backside.

She was going to be bruised in the morning.

"Commander, I believe we need to have a talk," Data said in a serious tone.

---

The door to Data's bedroom slid open.

Tasha made to turn over but a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Do not get up," Data whispered.

"Too late," Tasha replied.

"Please," Data said.

"How was… mmmmm," Tasha keened lazily as Data began to rub her between her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Data inquired.

She'd taken quite a fall earlier during the fake emergency.

"Just sore," Tasha replied.

"I believe I can assist with that problem," Data said as his hands set to work massaging away the knots and tension in her back.

"I still can't believe he could do a thing like that," Tasha remarked.

She hissed as he hit a particularly sensitive spot on the side of her abdomen.

"Sorry," Data apologised.

He redirected his attention to another part of her back.

"Commander Riker insists that he is not responsible," Data informed her.

Tasha scoffed.

"He claims to have simply been on a midnight stroll," Data went on.

"Uh huh," Tasha replied, sceptically.

"He did feel bad that you and Worf slipped like that," Data continued on.

In spite of his laughter, Commander Riker had seemed genuinely concerned for their wellbeing. All the same, Data could not ignore the fact that all available evidence pointed to the conclusion of Riker being the culprit.

Tasha rolled over and gave him a hard look.

"You do not believe him," Data observed.

"Do you?" Tasha asked.

---

"Bacon and eggs," Miles ordered.

The familiar shimmering sound of the replicator filled the room.

Miles reached in and pulled out a bowl of oatmeal.

He frowned.

Miles put it back and punched in the code to reprocess it.

As soon as it was gone, Miles tried it again.

To his dismay, when he reached in to grab his breakfast he found another bowl of oatmeal.

"For the love of-" Miles trailed off, grumbling a slew of curses he'd learned as a child.

He reprocessed the oatmeal and then opened the hatch to check the replicator settings. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with the device.

"Corned beef boxty," Miles ordered, trying something different.

He pulled out a third bowl of oatmeal and sighed.

It seemed the universe was determined to punish him with oatmeal. Miles adored oatmeal. But after finding it in his boots, he wasn't keen to eat again for a while.

The door chimed and Keiko came in.

Their routine included breakfast together with a healthy dose of wedding planning.

"Something wrong?" Keiko asked.

Miles returned the bowl of oatmeal back to the replicator and reprocessed it again.

"No matter what I order, I keep getting oatmeal," Miles lamented. "Here. You try it."

Keiko shrugged.

"Plankton loaf and seaberries," Keiko ordered.

Miles's face soured as he saw her typical favourite breakfast appear just as it did every morning.

"Maybe you're meant to eat this with me?" Keiko teased.

She had been trying to get him away from his usual heavy breakfasts for some time.

"Eh-" Miles stammered as Keiko produced a second tray of plankton loaf and seaberries and offered it to him.

All of a sudden his combadge chimed.

It was the overnight Engineering crew. They had a problem down in the maintenance port on deck seventeen.

"Duty calls," Miles said with a smile as he slipped out into the corridor.

As soon as the door closed, he let out a relieved sigh.

Saved by the bell!

---

When Miles reached the problem at the maintenance port, he was on alert. He figured it might be related to another one of the practical jokes that had plagued the ship.

According to the Engineering team, this port had registered a malfunction. The system was offline, and a manual reboot had failed.

Miles would have to open the access panel and take a look at the circuitry.

It wasn't a critical system.

It served as a backup for an organic waste shoot.

So, before he went any further and started opening things, Miles was going to conduct a level-one scan to ensure he wasn't about to get a face full of banana peels and used tissues.

As he had done hundreds of times, Miles flipped open his toolkit. With his eyes watching the console for any change, he reached into the toolbox. Instead of grabbing his diagnostic tool, he got a fistful of something wet and cold.

Miles sat back on his knees and closed his eyes.

"Oh God, who did crush the pride of the enemy by the long-suffering of thine only-begotten song, grant, we beseech thee, that we may worthily recall those things and thus, following his example, may patiently endure all our adversities," Miles said, praying aloud for tolerance.

"Everything alright, Chief?" Commander Riker said as he came around the corner.

"Just fine, Commander," Miles said in a tight voice.

Miles was determined that he wasn't going to give Commander Riker the satisfaction.

"You sure? Sounded a little aggravated a second ago," Riker said. "Anything I can help with?"

He was keen for the opportunity to get back on everyone's good side.

But Miles didn't want Riker touching anything. He was sure it was just another chance to prank him.

"No, thank you, sir," Miles replied.

"Alright," Riker shrugged before moving on.

As soon as Riker had moved off, Miles wiped the oatmeal off his hand.

He returned to Engineering. It took him over an hour to clean out his toolkit and ensure all his carefully cultivated collection of tools was oatmeal-free.

"Hey Chief, Michaelson said you were working on a problem with the maintenance port. You got that wrapped up yet? I could really use some help with coil reattunement," Geordi said.

Miles's shoulders dropped.

"Chief?" Geordi asked.

"I'd love to help you, sir. But I haven't had the chance to even start on the maintenance port yet," Miles responded.

"A problem?" Geordi inquired.

"You could say that," Miles said as he continued to put his tools back.

Geordi was concerned.

Before Geordi could ask any further questions, Miles spilled the details.

"A 6'4" menace of a First Officer that can't seem to understand these pranks aren't amusing anymore," Miles said in a heated tone.

"Oh," Geordi said in understanding.

Miles took a breath.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Miles said after calming down. "I know it wasn't your fault."

"Hey, that's alright. Why don't we go tackle that maintenance port together?" Geordi suggested as he clapped Miles on the back.

Eighteen minutes later the two were kneeling in front of the maintenance port.

"I'd say we're looking at a faulty sensor," Geordi advised.

"Aye, I can't see anything on here," Miles added as he interpreted the reading from the tricorder. "All the connections check out."

"Let's get this open and see what we're dealing with," Geordi said.

Working in tandem, the two removed the screws in the corner of the access panel.

"I got it," Geordi said as he took the panel and turned to set it to the side.

"This is odd. All these sensors are showing as green," Miles said as he reached his head inside to get a better look.

Without warning, oatmeal began to shoot out of the inside of the port – coating the Chief and flooding the immediate area with the breakfast cereal.

"I'm going to kill him," Miles vowed.

---

Commander Riker entered his quarters. He kicked off his boots in frustration and punched in dinner on the replicator.

Dinner alone.

Again.

Over the last forty-eight hours the mysterious prankster had struck again, and it seemed everyone was shunning Commander Riker as punishment.

Will had insisted upon his innocence, but no one was sure if they could believe him.

He always laughed the hardest whenever the pranks occurred. Riker was also quick to defend them. In his eyes, as long as no one got hurt and they didn't interfere with their duties, the pranks were a much-needed outlet for stress relief.

Even his Imzadi was sceptical.

As he dug into a lonely serving of peas pudding, Riker was suddenly struck by an idea.

It was too simple.

He tapped his combadge and paged Data and Geordi.

"Do you think you could come up to my quarters?" Riker inquired.

"Am I going to be walking into a trap?" Geordi asked.

"No, no, no. I promise," Riker assured them.

---

"Are you sure about this?" Geordi asked.

"This does seem a rather elaborate endeavour," Data chimed in.

The three of them were seated around the table in Riker's quarters.

For the last hour, Commander Riker had outlined his plan to take the heat off himself.

It was elaborate.

And it was going to be embarrassing.

But Commander Riker didn't care.

He was tired of everyone ignoring him outside of working hours. Will Riker hated to dine alone or be left out of holodeck workouts. And he was striking out left and right with his attempts to land a date for an upcoming performance of a small ensemble.

"Sir, I am not sure this is a good idea," Data advised.

"I mean, are you sure you want to do this?" Geordi repeated. "What if something goes wrong?"

"Absolutely!" Riker insisted. "I can't stand everyone being upset with me. I really wasn't responsible for those other pranks."

---

"What are you doing to my place?" Guinan asked.

Commander Riker froze.

He was on his knees under one of the tables in the middle of Ten Forward.

Riker turned and looked up at Guinan with a broad smile.

"I thought you said you weren't responsible?" Guinan pressed.

"Oh you don't understand. I'm pranking myself," Riker explained. "That way everyone will know it's somebody else doing it!"

Guinan frowned in disapproval.

"It's not permanent," Riker assured her.

He was coating the seat of one of the chairs with a specialised industrial adhesive. The plan was for Riker to sit in the chair. It would stick to his uniform, forcing him to go through the embarrassment of having Geordi and Data use a solvent to remove it.

He'd likely be stuck to the chair for at least an hour.

Once word got around that he had fallen victim to the elusive prankster, then everyone would have to see he wasn't the culprit.

"You've got a strange way of convincing people you're not the cause of these pranks," Guinan commented.

Riker stood up and sealed the adhesive applicator.

"Well I'm a bit of a creative genius at times," Riker winked with pride.

"I didn't say it was genius. I said it was strange," Guinan retorted before stepping away to see to another table.

Geordi bit back a smirk as she left.

"She's got a point," Geordi said. "What if something goes wrong?" Geordi asked.

"That's where you come in," Riker reminded him. "You make sure that Data sits there. And you take the seat on the left. Send Miles and Worf to the bar and I'll sit in the sticky seat before they get back. That way no one else does."

Geordi put his hands on his hips.

"I'm still not sure about this," Geordi warned.

"It's foolproof," Riker assured him.

Commander Riker checked the time and then rushed outside.

The rest of the guys were due at 18:00 hours and Riker couldn't be the first one in. That was Geordi and Data's role.

---

Commander Riker stepped out of the Ten Forward. He made a beeline down the corridor and stepped onto turbolift seven. He ordered the lift to halt, counted to sixty, and then stepped back off.

Deanna, Beverly, and Tasha were just stepping off turbolift nine.

"Evening ladies," Riker said with a smile.

Tasha shook her head in disapproval. Deanna rolled her eyes.

"Nope," Beverly said as she put her hand up.

The three of them had been more than disappointed with the latest string of pranks. Chief O'Brien had found oatmeal stuffed in his toolbox. He'd spent nearly an hour cleaning it out.

They didn't find that kind of thing funny.

There had also been a glitter bomb that had gone off in Beverly's bathtub when she tried to open a facemask and relax.

A few seconds later, Worf, Miles, and Data emerged around the corridor.

"I'll sit with you but there better not be any funny business," Miles warned. "I don't want to find myself suddenly drinking a pint of oatmeal."

Riker put his hands up in the mutual sign of surrender.

"No pranks. I swear," Riker promised.

Worf gave him a Klingon death glare.

"Worf, I would never do anything to hurt you guys," Riker insisted.

"Pranks are immature," Worf muttered.

"And I couldn't agree more," Riker concurred.

The four men made their way down the corridor and into Ten Forward.

Commander Riker spied the empty table he had set up.

So far, so good.

"How about this one?" Riker suggested.

He had specifically chosen a table in the middle of the room to ensure everyone saw.

Riker glanced around and was surprised to see Geordi chatting with two of his Engineering staff at the bar.

Riker couldn't be upset – that kind of thing happened all the time to the senior officers. They were always getting called away.

Riker would have to improvise.

"Chief, Worf, why don't you get the drinks? That way you can be sure I don't do anything to them," Riker proposed.

"That sounds like a good idea," Miles agreed.

"Sorry, I got pulled away," Geordi said quietly as he rushed back over.

"It's alright," Riker assured him. "No, no, Data. Why don't you sit there?"

Riker pointed to the seat he had designated for Data.

Their seating arrangement was critical to ensure this joke went according to plan.

Data nodded and took his seat.

Geordi slipped into the chair next to him.

A moment later Miles and Worf returned with a pitcher and five glasses.

"Oatmeal stout," Miles announced.

Commander Riker grinned and slipped into the chair he had planted.

His smile faltered.

Riker looked down at his lap and then scanned around the table. His eyes settled on Data.

"Commander," Data said in a stern voice.

Riker fumbled for words.

The other guys began to realise something was up.

Geordi looked furious.

"Data, Data I didn't-" Riker stammered. "You have to believe I didn't do this."

"Didn't do what?" Worf barked.

"I can't believe you!" Geordi fumed.

Miles looked to Data for an explanation.

"Is there something wrong, Commander?" Miles asked.

Data's brow wrinkled and when he tested to see if he could move, he realised that any further pressure would tear his uniform.

"I am stuck," Data confessed.

A look of alarm crossed his face.

"Sir?" Worf asked, noticing Data seemed genuinely concerned.

Data's eyes were flitting back and forth rapidly.

"I believe this is polyescaurethene glibeonformulae," Data said.

He was doing his best not to panic but his modesty programme was at odds with his self-protection coding.

"While harmless to human skin, such a substance will eat my bioplast," Data shared.

Commander Riker's face fell.

Geordi, Miles, and Worf sprung into action.

"We need to get you off there," Geordi said in an urgent tone. "Now!"

Worf rushed off to grab a solvent kit from the nearest maintenance closet.

Across the room, the ladies could see something was happening.

"What do you think happened?" Deanna asked as she observed them.

"Probably another stupid prank," Beverly scoffed.

"No, they're worried. Genuinely worried," Deanna said.

She could sense that Geordi was panicked.

"Something's wrong with Data or he wouldn't be trying to get out of his jumpsuit," Tasha said.

She got up in a flash and left her drink abandoned.

"It is no use," Data advised.

He had unzipped the top portion of his uniform and slipped out of the sleeves. It was an attempt to get out but the adhesive had already bonded too firmly.

"What's wrong?" Tasha asked as she knelt down next to Geordi.

"We need to get Data off of this chair," Geordi explained.

"I am stuck," Data added.

Everyone in Ten Forward was starting to realise something was happening. The commotion at Riker's table had caught their attention.

Unfortunately, it was exactly the wrong kind of attention that he had been hoping to attract.

"Data, what can I do to help?" Riker asked.

"I think you've done enough," Tasha snapped.

Data made a face as he felt the adhesive begin to penetrate through the fabric of his uniform jumpsuit and shorts.

"Please hurry, I can feel it on my bioplast," Data shared.

Tasha knew it wasn't the best solution, but she needed to get Data free.

Reaching into her jumpsuit, she grabbed her switchblade and flipped it open. She immediately set to work cutting away his trousers.

Miles grabbed a knife off the table and set to work on the other side.

"It's going to be alright Data," Geordi said.

He gave Data a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and then stepped away to the bar to grab a towel from Guinan.

"Bet you've never had someone so eager to cut away your trousers," Riker said playfully.

He was hoping to lighten the mood.

Deanna gave him a light smack on the back of the head.

"Not the time," she said in a stern voice.

"Mind where you cut," Miles warned as Tasha cut away the fabric between Data's legs.

Geordi was back a moment later with a bar towel.

"On three?" Geordi suggested.

He counted and Data stood up pushing the chair back, now free of his uniform.

Geordi was right on time with the towel.

It was a good thing Data was on the gangly side as the bar towel barely fit around his bony hips.

Data was feeling more than a little embarrassed. All of this was contrary to his modesty programme.

To Data's surprise, everyone in Ten Forward broke out into a round of applause.

"Hey! Good for you Data!" Ensign Jae called out.

"Way to be a sport, Commander!" Lieutenant Hawk hollered.

They weren't mocking him. Rather, they were offering support.

Commander Riker caught Guinan's eye. She shook her head.

She had warned him.

"Alright, alright," Tasha said, encouraging them back to their tables.

She could tell Data was humiliated.

"We've got your back, Data!" Ensign Jeffords added.

"'I'd get that backside any day," Lieutenant Parker growled.

"It's a pity Geordi was so fast, I'd love to know what's under that towel," her friend responded in a low voice.

Tasha gave Ensign Parker and her table a pleading look.

"They love ya, Data," Riker said as he flashed him a broad smile.

"Come on," Tasha said as she guided Data toward the door.

Data was clutching his towel tight as they headed for the door.

Just before they reached the door, Worf stepped inside with the solvent necessary to remove the adhesive.

Data whispered something to Tasha.

Without a word, she snagged it from Worf, and he watched them head for the nearest turbolift.

Worf marched back over to the original table.

"That was not funny," Worf barked.

"Come on," Deanna said.

"Guys, I didn't do this! Tell them, Geordi!" Riker insisted.

Geordi folded his arms across his chest.

"I wish I could. I really wanted to trust you, sir," Geordi said, his voice full of betrayal.

The rest of the senior officers took off to go somewhere else – somewhere without Commander Riker.

He got the message loud and clear.

Riker sank back down into his chair. He couldn't believe his bum luck.

He knew it was selfish to think about himself at a time like this, but Riker couldn't help it. He'd coordinated the whole plan in order to get himself back on good terms with his friends.

Yet here he was sitting alone again.

No one wanted to sit with him.

Hell, no one even wanted to give him a friendly wave.

Determined to make things right, Commander Riker got up and headed for the bar.

"Hey, Guinan?" Riker asked.

Guinan stopped dusting her bottles and walked over to where Riker was waiting.

"Whatever it is you're planning, I don't want any part of it," Guinan said. "Your last comeback attempt was a bit of a belly flop."

"I don't want to plan anything," Riker confessed.

He felt terrible for what had happened to Data. It was never his intention to hurt or humiliate anyone.

"Data and Tasha like whisky right? You still got that good stuff you picked up on your last trip to Earth?" Riker inquired.

"It'll cost you," Guinan warned.

"I don't care what it costs," Riker assured her. "I just want to get my friends back."

Guinan stepped in her private storeroom to grab a bottle of the amber liquid for Commander Riker. It was a great bottle and would make a fine gift.

As he waited for her to return, Lieutenant Underwood approached the bar.

"Evening," Riker nodded with a small smile.

"Get lost," Underwood replied before turning on his heel and leaving.

He wasn't going to be anywhere near Riker.

Guinan returned a moment later with the bottle in hand.

"Thanks," Riker said as she handed it over.

On his way out, some of the crew started booing.

"Please! You're too kind," Riker said with a bow, trying to take in stride.

---

"I really think I ought to have a talk with him," Tasha said.

Data didn't respond.

For the last twenty minutes he had been unusually quiet as Tasha cleaned away the remnants of the adhesive that was latched onto his bioplast.

The solvent had a horrid, acrid scent. But it was necessary to remove the little dried bits of glue stuck to his bum.

He wasn't in any pain – and it hadn't yet caused any damage.

Data had wanted to be alone, but Tasha had insisted on helping. She felt bad enough that he had to endure the humiliation of being nearly naked in Ten Forward. The least she could do was help with the clean-up.

Tasha put a flannel at the end of the solvent bottle and tipped it upside down to let it seep into the fabric.

"This went too far," Tasha went on.

Data was silent.

"Data?" Tasha prompted as she stopped.

"I find myself struggling to understand why everyone reacted in the manner that they did. I thought most of the crew found these practical jokes abhorrent," Data said, confused.

He had been trying to process it ever since they had left the crowded Ten Forward.

"They do," Tasha assured him as she resumed cleaning his bioplast.

"But they all applauded," Data commented.

And that bothered Data.

"They weren't applauding the prank. It wasn't direct at you, Data. It was for you," Tasha clarified.

"For me?" Data inquired.

He didn't understand. Just when he thought he had a grasp on human behaviour, something like this would happen to remind him how little he knew.

"Yeah, they were trying to show their support for you," Tasha assured him.

Data cocked his head to the side as his brow wrinkled. Tasha could practically hear the wheels in his mind spinning as he tried to figure it out.

"And believe me, you've got nothing to be shy about," Tasha said with a grin.

Data was even more confused now.

"You should have heard what Parker and her roommate said about you," Tasha shared.

"About me?" Data asked.

"She was lamenting that she didn't get to see the rest of you," Tasha explained.

Tasha glanced up to get a peek at Data's reaction in the mirror. She smirked as it clicked.

Data's eyes widened as he realised what Tasha meant. Data had to admit it was a confusing mix of emotions. On the one hand, he was still ashamed about having to literally lose his clothes in the middle of the ship's hotspot.

On the other hand, it was a bit of a confidence boost to know there were other people that found him desirable. While it wasn't any secret to Tasha, Data was still learning to come to terms with the notion that he could be seen as handsome and sensual.

"You mean they considered me a desirable partner?" Data asked in astonishment.

"I hate to break it to you," Tasha said in a mock whisper.

Data braced himself to be told he didn't quite comprehend.

"You do have a rather cute bum," Tasha said as she gave him a playful pinch.

---

The next morning on their way out the door, Data and Tasha found a bottle of whisky sitting next to the door.

It wasn't just a bottle of whisky.

It was a nice bottle of whisky.

A nice, very expensive, single malt bottle of whisky.

There was a small card attached that simply read ' Apologies – Riker.'

"An act of making amends?" Data pondered aloud.

"Or it's full of Targ urine," Tasha grumbled.

She wasn't quite ready to trust anything from Riker.

"I could take it to the lab and run a chemical analysis," Data suggested.

"You're so clever," Tasha grinned.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then headed off for work.

---

Across the ship, Will Riker was just getting ready for the day.

He was standing in front of his mirror taking in his appearance. He turned his head side to side as he eyed his jawline and contemplated – once again – if he should grow a beard.

Deciding against it, Riker resumed shaving.

The communication system chimed.

"Good morning, Commander," Captain Picard's voice rang out. "As soon as you're on duty, I'd like to see you in my Ready Room."

"Acknowledged, sir," Riker responded.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

He had a feeling he knew what the Captain wanted to discuss.

And it wasn't the monthly ship evaluation.

---

"You see, sir, it's a bit of a sticky situation," Riker began.

His eyes widened as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I didn't mean, that is to say," Riker swallowed hard. "No pun intended."

Captain Picard's lips were the thinnest Riker had ever seen them.

"I am not amused," Picard responded.

He took a sip of his tea to compose himself. After a long drink, he returned the saucer to its plate.

"I know that you take the matter of crew morale seriously and the tediousness of the last few weeks is getting to everyone," Picard began.

"Sir-" Riker tried to interject.

"I don't blame you, Number One," Picard went on.

"But, sir," Riker protested. "I'm not the one responsible!"

Captain Picard sat back in his chair.

"Then how do you explain this?" Picard inquired with a casual shrug. "You've admitted you were responsible for the pastry incident at the morning briefing and your role in the sticky chair in Ten Forward."

Commander Riker froze.

"I'm genuinely interested in how you can explain this," Picard pressed.

"Sir, as I've tried to explain, I was trying to play a practical joke on myself," Riker said, insisting upon his innocence. "Geordi got pulled away. The real joker must have switched the chairs."

Riker sat back and gasped.

"Number One?" Picard prompted.

"I've got it, sir. I know who's responsible," Riker said triumphantly as he clapped his hands together. "It had to have been someone in that room!"

It was too brilliant. Someone inside must have gotten wise to Riker's plan and switched the chairs.

"Sir, I can figure out who did this," Riker promised.

"See that you do," Picard ordered. "I want this joker dealt with."

Riker nodded and jumped up from his seat to head off for duty.

"One more thing, Number One," Picard said, catching Riker on his way out the door.

---

"Say, why don't we go to the concert together, huh?" Riker suggested.

When Deanna didn't respond, Will Riker flashed her a winning smile.

"Imzadi-" he began.

"You're here to talk about recent events," Deanna reminded him.

They were seated in her office across the coffee table from one another. Captain Picard had ordered Commander Riker to see Deanna for an evaluation. He was concerned that Commander Riker had been under an undue amount of stress.

"What do you want me to say, Deanna?" Riker asked.

"Why don't you walk me through an average day?" Deanna suggested.

Riker let his head fall back against the sofa.

"I know that you and Captain Picard and everyone on this ship think I'm some kind of nut that's finally cracked but it wasn't me!" Riker contended.

Wordlessly he pleaded with her.

"I want to believe you, Will. But I'm sensing a mix of emotions from you – including guilt," Deanna shared.

"Deanna, I know who did it!" Riker claimed. "It had to be somebody in that room last night."

Deanna looked at him sceptically.

"There were fifty people in that room," Deanna said as she held out her hands in disbelief.

"And I'm going to prove which of them did this," Riker vowed.

He looked down at his lap and then raised his face, giving Deanna the best sympathetic look he could manage.

"Go to the concert with me?" Riker pleaded.

"Fine," Deanna responded with a small smile.

---

After his shift, Data was in his lab working, running a few tests on some of the samples the exobiology lab had sent over.

The last few weeks aboard the ship had been pretty mundane. While most of the officers missed the excitement, Data was grateful for the chance to chip away at his ever-growing list of projects. For Data, there was never a monotonous moment when so many scientific discoveries were just waiting to happen.

While he waited for one of his cooling stasis fields to chill a sample, Data turned his attention to the bottle of whisky.

After completing a chemical analysis, he was surprised to see the contents of the bottle.

Data leaned in closer as his eyes scanned across the computer screen.

TRANS-3-METHYL-4-OCTANOLIDE.

HEXANAL.

o-CRESOL.

It was all of the standard whisky lactones and aldehydes that he would have expected to find as part of the aging process. There were the phenolic compounds that were common in whisky produced through the use of peat fires that dry the malted barley.

By all accounts, it was nothing more than whisky.

Data scrunched up his face as he tried to come to a decision on what Commander Riker's motivations truly were.

Before he could decide, Data was paged to Commander Riker's quarters.

---

Data wasn't the only individual that had been paged. Miles, Geordi, and Worf had been summoned. Riker had made clear that his hail was not a request – it was an order.

When they arrived, Commander Riker had tea, a pitcher of beer, and a tray of snacks waiting around the table.

"Take a seat, gentlemen," Riker said as he motioned to his table.

Everyone was careful to check their chairs before sitting down.

The food and beverages remained untouched.

After explaining that Data's mishap in Ten Forward had been Commander Riker's attempt to play a practical joke on himself, Riker went on to maintain his innocence in the string of pranks that had plagued the rest of the senior officers.

"I'm asking as your commanding officer, that whoever is responsible – stop," Riker ordered. "This person needs to be dealt with. That's straight from the Captain."

Everyone around the table exchanged a glance.

There had been so many practical jokes lately that they weren't sure if this was just some ruse or a genuine command.

"And I'm tired of being a pariah," Riker shared as he pointed at himself. "I can't take this anymore!"

Feeling compelled to speak up, Data chimed in with the information he had.

"I wanted to thank you for your apology," Data said. "As you would say, no hard feelings."

"Thanks, Data," Riker replied.

"So if someone switched the chairs, what makes you think it was any of us?" Miles asked. "We weren't even in the room."

"But Lieutenant La Forge was," Worf said as all eyes turned to Geordi.

Geordi's face registered shock at being accused.

"Guys? Guys you know I didn't do it!" Geordi exclaimed, professing his innocence. "I mean, I would never!"

"I do think our culprit was in that room last night," Riker informed them.

"Then the question is, who would want to prank you?" Data inquired.

"And would be unassuming enough not to attract attention?" Miles added.

"Do you remember anything, Geordi?" Riker pressed.

Geordi sighed and sat back in his chair.

He shook his head solemnly.

"Look, I didn't want to say anything," Geordi began.

Everyone leaned forward with eager anticipation as Geordi chewed on the inside of his lip, debating whether or not to say it.

After a few seconds of internal deliberation, Geordi leaned forward and rested his arms on the table.

"Last night before you came in I saw our Counsellor, Chief Medical Officer, and Chief of Security chatting around that table before you lot came in," Geordi said.

He dropped his head.

"But that's not proof!" Geordi said quickly. "Look, I was in the middle of talking with Lieutenant Dhar, I can't be sure if they did it."

Worf crossed his arms.

Miles's eyes narrowed and shifted from Geordi to Riker.

Commander Riker sat back and scratched his chin.

Data was sitting upright and carefully observing everyone.

"The girls?" Miles pondered aloud.

"Deanna does like a good joke," Riker offered. "And she'd get more than a grand laugh at my expense."

"And Beverly's got a wicked sense of humour," Geordi chimed in. "She's so creative."

"Lieutenant Yar can be quite stealthy," Data threw out.

"So what are we gonna do about it?" Miles asked.

With a renewed sense of trust, he leaned forward and poured out glasses of ale for everyone.

"I don't think we should escalate this," Geordi said. "What if they find out and come back at all of us?"

Data had to admit that Geordi had a point.

He wasn't sure that another prank was the right answer.

"Maybe you're right. I'm just so tired of everyone hating me," Riker lamented.

"And I'm sick of oatmeal!" Miles huffed.

He was so tired of it jumping out at him or stepping in it that Miles swore it would years before he was ready to face another bowl of his once-favourite breakfast food.

"Then it needs to be something that sends a clear message," Worf suggested. "A warning shot."

"Something to out-prank our resident trickster trio," Riker said.

"But harmless," Geordi insisted.

He felt it was important to stress that.

"I thought the Captain wanted the practical jokes to stop?" Data asked, voicing concern with the direction of the conversation.

"Actually, he said he wanted the culprit taken care of," Riker responded.

"I believe that is a rather broad interpretation of the Captain's order," Data stated before quickly adding, "but I was not present and therefore could be misreading the situation."

Everyone in the room, including Data, knew he had not misunderstood.

Nonetheless, all of the guys agreed. They didn't want anyone getting hurt.

All of a sudden Geordi chuckled.

"No," he said aloud, shaking his head.

"Geordi?" Data inquired.

Geordi was grinning.

"I just had a brilliant idea," Geordi said, beaming.

Then he quickly shook his head again.

"Naw, I couldn't do it," Geordi said as he put his hands up.

But they guys weren't about to take no for an answer.

"Geordi, you can't drop that and then keep us in the dark," Miles said.

Geordi chuckled.

"Alright then," Geordi agreed. "Seeing as how our three favourite ladies were so keen to switch the chairs. Maybe we play a little switcheroo of our own?

Everyone inched forward in their chairs.

"What exactly are you proposing?" Worf demanded.

Geordi shrugged nonchalantly.

"I think we can all agree there's something sophisticated about a brunette," Geordi said.

Miles scrunched up his face and scratched the back of his head in confusion.

Worf shifted his eyes. He didn't quite understand Geordi's statement.

Geordi glanced at Commander Riker.

"And wouldn't you agree, Commander, that blondes have more fun?" Geordi teased.

A grin broke out on Riker's face. He threw his head back in laughter as he realised what Geordi was proposing.

Geordi turned to Data, who was still perplexed.

"How do you feel about redheads, Data?" Geordi asked.

---

The next morning, Deanna sat up in bed as her alarm went off. She stretched and grabbed a cup of hot cocoa – her favourite way to start the day.

After picking out a burgundy jumpsuit for the day, Deanna sat down at her vanity and set about brushing her hair.

She put her hot chocolate down on the surface and picked up her hairbrush – a lovely hand-carved piece that her mother had gifted her years earlier.

Deanna reached up to begin and stopped.

She dropped her brush to the ground and stared at the mirror in shock.

Deanna reached up and grabbed a tendril of her curly hair, pulling it in front of her eyes to study it up close and personal – not trusting the image of a platinum blonde that she saw in the mirror.

"Holy Rings of Betazed," she breathed.

---

Over in the Crusher family quarters, Beverly was up early. She was humming to herself as she stepped out of the shower. After slipping into her uniform, Beverly wrapped her wet hair in a towel and then set to work on her morning routine.

She watered her plants, made her bed, and then applied her makeup.

Beverly tossed her towel aside and then stepped out into the main room of her quarters.

She smiled to herself as she saw Wesley sitting at the table, his nose in his tablet.

"Up early or haven't you been to bed yet?" Beverly inquired.

"I couldn't sleep and figured I'd get an early start on my calculus," Wesley replied.

"Oh, well be sure you get a good night's sleep tonight, alright?" Beverly requested.

He was a smart kid – but he wasn't always great about taking care of himself.

"Sure thing, mom," Wesley replied. "Are you having breakfast with Captain Picard this morning, or do you want to get breakfast together?"

Beverly had been planning to share breakfast with the Captain in his quarters.

But before she could answer, Wesley looked up from his tablet for the first time.

His face registered a shock at her appearance.

"Wes?" Beverly asked, confused by his reaction.

"Um, it looks nice," Wes said.

In fifteen years he had never once seen his mother alter her signature red locks. While the style had changed numerous times, the red had always been a constant.

Wesley didn't care – it was just a surprise.

He recalled her once sharing that she had coloured her hair as a teen and couldn't change it back fast enough.

"What looks nice?" Beverly inquired.

"Your hair, it looks nice," Wesley clarified.

Beverly laughed.

"Okay," she replied sarcastically.

She waved off the comment, assuming Wesley was making a crack about her wet, un-styled hair.

"I'm taking breakfast with the Captain. I need to go through some reports with him on the inventory situation," Beverly explained. "But I'll catch you for dinner? We can do that Vulcan cabbage dish you've wanted to try."

"Sounds great!" Wes replied.

Beverly returned to her bedroom to finish getting ready.

She grabbed her styling tool from the drawer and powered it up.

As she turned to grab her hairbrush, Beverly stopped.

She stood back up and leaned in close to the mirror.

"What in the world?" Beverly asked aloud as she caught sight of her appearance.

She rapped her fingers on the counter as she ran through a mental checklist of any known substance, chemical, or injection that could cause such a reaction that she had come into contact with in the last twelve hours.

Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Beverly was determined to figure out who was responsible for this.

And most importantly - how long it would last.

Beverly grabbed her combadge and paged the Captain.

"Sir, I'm sorry I need to cancel our breakfast," Beverly informed him. "Something has come up."

"Is everything alright, Doctor?" Picard inquired.

"Nothing serious, sir," Beverly assured him as she ran her hand back through her dark brown hair.

---

Across the ship, Tasha and Data had spent the night in her quarters.

Tasha was already in the shower when Data slipped in with her.

"Wow," he said, his eyes wide with wonder as he watched Tasha rinse her hair.

"Wow what?" Tasha asked.

"You," Data replied simply.

Tasha laughed and then bit her lip. She still felt bashful whenever Data said things like that.

Not realising she was on the receiving end of the latest prank, she assumed Data was merely being complimentary.

"You're sweet," Tasha replied.

They were in the shower a little longer than anticipated. By the time they got out, Tasha only had a few minutes to get ready before she was due to meet Worf in the backup torpedo bay for a Security drill.

Downtime was a training opportunity, and Tasha was keen to make good use of their time.

She threw on her uniform, socks, and boots. There was no time to primp and preen this morning.

The cost of sharing a shower with Data. Tasha mused as she blushed.

It saved water. It certainly didn't save time.

Tasha knew they were either going to have set a timer or start bathing separately. It was getting dangerous. This was the third time in the last month she'd nearly been late after her new favourite early-morning cardio.

Without looking in the mirror, Tasha combed her hair.

She unscrewed her lip balm and applied a little with her finger – her lips were chapped.

"See you on the Bridge," she called on her way out.

In a flash, she was out the door and rushing for the nearest turbolift.

---

Tasha managed to slip onto the lift just before it closed.

As she caught her breath, Tasha realised Leiutenant Murphy was staring at her.

"Good morning," Tasha said.

"Morning, sir," Murphy responded before redirecting her gaze forward.

"I got a late start," Tasha said as she straightened the sleeve on her uniform.

She assumed Murphy's reaction was due to her somewhat unkempt appearance.

"Right," Murphy said awkwardly.

With a small nod, she stepped off the lift at her stop.

When Tasha reached the appropriate floor, she disembarked the lift.

On the way to the torpedo bay, Tasha passed Miles and Geordi who were working on a maintenance cleaning of the coolant storage.

Geordi choked back a laugh and turned away to hide his reaction.

"Morning," Miles said, barely able to keep a straight face.

"Morning," Tasha replied slowly.

Once again she assumed their laughter was in response to seeing the ever-prepared and always-early Tasha Yar looking red-faced and fresh from the shower.

"I got a late start," Tasha said.

"And I can bet why," Geordi said, breaking down in laughter.

Tasha shook her head and moved along. She figured they were making a crack about her and Data spending the night together. It was hardly a secret anymore that they spent most of their nights in one or the other's quarters.

However, that assumption was called into question the moment she stepped into the torpedo bay.

Worf was already there along with six of her security teams.

"Sorry I'm late," Tasha said as she rushed over to their position.

Her pace slowed to a stop when she was greeted with friendly catcalls and whistles.

Tasha realised something was up.

She glanced down to take stock of her own appearance.

Was there a stain on her uniform? A hole somewhere?

Tasha instinctively turned in place, trying to look at her own backside.

At this point she wouldn't put it past Will Riker to cut away the rear of her uniform.

"Do I have something on my face?" Tasha asked.

"No," Worf responded.

"It looks great!" Ensign Jeffords said.

"Yeah, it's really you," Ensign Olivet commented.

Tasha held out her hands, gesturing for an explanation.

"You have altered your appearance," Worf said without breaking.

Tasha laughed softly and shook her head.

"Really? I put on a little lippy because they're chapped and you lot act like I strolled in here dressed to the nines," Tasha said.

"We are not referring to the red hue of your lips," Worf said.

Tasha glanced down at her hands, fearfully that Riker had turned her into some kind of tomato.

When she didn't see anything wrong with her hands, Tasha glanced up at Worf to elaborate.

Worf turned her attention to reflective panelling along the wall.

Tasha gasped slowly as she tousled her vibrant red hair.

"QI'yah," Tasha breathed as she slowly brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

Tasha took a step back and looked at Worf.

"Sorry," she said softly as Worf raised an eyebrow.

It was one of the strongest Klingon curses.

Tasha shook her head, redirecting her attention to the training she was about to lead.

She could get even with Commander Riker later.

And maybe she wouldn't throw him out an airlock.

After all, Data had certainly enjoyed it. Tasha mused, recalling his reaction to her new look.

---

"Good morning, Counsellor," Captain Picard said as Deanna assumed her seat next to him.

Jean-Luc did a double take, before quickly turning his attention back to the viewscreen.

He wasn't sure if it was his place to make a comment.

After all, whatever his crew did in their free time was their business. And Jean-Luc could care less about someone altering their personal appearance as long as it followed uniform code.

However, it was such a significant and sudden change that Captain Picard was taken aback.

"It, uh, it looks nice," Captain Picard said.

He had never been good at that kind of thing.

"Very, uh, nice," Picard said with a tight smile.

"Well, I'm glad one of us is enjoying it," Deanna responded.

From his position across the way, Will Riker coughed to cover his laugh.

But one fake cough quickly turned into a fit.

"Are you alright, Number One?" Picard asked, sensing the First Officer had a hand in Deanna's overnight blonde switch.

"Fine, sir," Riker managed to choke out.

Deanna shot a disapproving look in his direction.

"It's very becoming," Riker said in response.

Deanna flashed him a large, sarcastic smile.

"Ooo! I like it," Riker responded.

He fanned himself, overselling it as if he were melting in her presence.

Deanna rolled her eyes.

---

As things were going slow on the Bridge, Captain Picard decided to drop into Sickbay to check in with Doctor Crusher. They had been due to go over an inventory report over breakfast. However, Beverly had cancelled.

Jean-Luc figured since his own workload was light, he could go to her and save Beverly the time.

When he stepped into Sickbay, Beverly was hunched over one of the lab stations examining a chemical compound under a microscope.

There were a series of bottles and containers lined up along the counter – everything from shampoo and soap to lotion and wine, all neatly arranged and labelled for testing.

Beverly was determined to discover what was responsible for her sudden brunette makeover.

"Sorry, I was looking for Doctor Crusher," Captain Picard said.

"You've got her," Beverly responded without looking up.

Captain Picard scanned the room, looking for Beverly.

"Doctor?" Captain Picard asked.

He startled as the brunette at the science station stood up and turned around.

"Doctor," Jean-Luc remarked in disbelief.

"Looks like the jokes on me," Beverly responded in agitation.

Captain Picard did not respond.

He just stood there staring at her.

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly prompted as she snapped her fingers.

"S-sorry," he replied, mentally shaking himself back to reality.

He didn't mean to ignore her. Her appearance had just thrown him for a loop.

Second time today. Picard thought.

He mused there must have been an epidemic of sorts. Or perhaps the Counsellor and Doctor had gotten together to switch things up?

Or not. Picard pondered.

Like Deanna, Beverly looked none too pleased with her new hair colour.

"This was not intentional?" Picard asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Beverly exclaimed.

"Excuse me," Picard said quickly. "I have to see to something."

---

Captain Picard set off out of Sickbay on a mission.

He stepped onto the nearest lift. Putting his hands on his hips, he sighed in frustration.

He had asked Riker to put an end to this.

It seemed their elusive prankster remained at large.

Jean-Luc decided it was time to take more drastic action in finding their prank perpetrator and he knew just the person to conduct the investigation.

Geordi and Miles were still working on the coolant maintenance when they saw Captain Picard march past them in the corridor.

"He looks steamed," Miles remarked.

"C'mon," Geordi whispered.

Keeping a safe distance, they crept along the corridor following the Captain.

They knew that Tasha was still down in the torpedo bay. Most of her crew had left to return to their duties upon conclusion of the training.

But Tasha had remained behind, making an excuse about taking inventory.

On his way out, Worf had informed Miles and Geordi that Tasha had taken inventory only three days earlier. There was no need to do it again for another month, but Tasha wanted an excuse to make herself scarce.

She loathed being the centre of attention.

And with her bright red hair she had gotten more than enough attention to last a lifetime.

Geordi and Miles snuck into the torpedo bay and ducked behind one of the consoles to watch.

Captain Picard glanced around the room and frowned.

Tasha was standing next to one of the storage units with her tablet, marking off the lines as she went.

"What are we doing?" Data asked, suddenly coming up behind Miles and Geordi.

They pulled him down behind the console just before Picard turned around at the sound of the door.

"Shhh," Geordi said, shushing him.

"What are we doing?" Data repeated in a whisper.

"You're just in time," Miles said as he pointed to the Captain.

The three poked their heads around the corner to watch the show unfold.

To the amusement of their unknown audience, Captain Picard walked by Tasha before stopping and doubling back.

Geordi bit back a smirk as Captain Picard looked her up and down.

"My man," Geordi said as he gave him a silent high five.

Captain Picard tugged on the collar of his uniform and cleared his throat.

"Can I help you?" Tasha asked tersely.

She had heard someone stop behind her and could only guess at the reason why.

"Excuse me, I was looking for our Security Chief, Lieutenant Yar," Picard said. "I don't believe we've been introduced. Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

Jean-Luc blanched as Tasha turned around.

"Sir?" she asked.

It was evident from his body language that Captain Picard was flustered.

"Eh, Lieutenant. I, I, um-" he stammered, fumbling in his attempt to formulate a sentence.

"Sir?" Tasha prompted.

Jean-Luc held his hands out and gestured with a shrug.

"You, um, you've, oh my," Picard spluttered.

Tasha frowned. His face – which had been white as sheet a moment earlier – was now flushed and perspiring.

It was completely out of character for the always-composed Captain to seem so agitated.

"Are you feeling alright, sir?" Tasha asked as she reached out to feel his forehead with the back of her hand.

Captain Picard inhaled sharply.

"Don't tell me Riker got you with something too?" Tasha sighed.

"Told you he had a thing for redheads," Miles commented.

"Told you he had a thing for Tasha," Geordi replied.

"Who doesn't?" Miles asked in response.

All of a sudden, Miles and Geordi exchanged a glance.

They slowly turned back to Data and plastered on two smiles.

"Just a wee joke, Commander," Miles said clumsily.

"I am not bothered," Data said coolly. "I am comfortable enough in my own skin, as it were, not to feel jealous when someone else notices Lieutenant Yar."

"Well you'd best get used to it," Miles said.

---

"So you know Humphries?" Geordi asked.

"The Ophthalmologist?" Data asked in clarification.

Geordi nodded.

"He's been testing these new ocular scanners and he stopped into Sickbay earlier wearing them," Geordi recounted. "And he-"

Geordi doubled over in laughter.

"And he, he walked straight into the glass in Doctor Crusher's office when he caught sight of her," Geordi choked out through a fit of giggles.

Commander Riker, Data, Geordi, Miles, and Worf were sitting together at Ten Forward around a table, toasting their success.

"Cheers lads," Miles said as he raised his glass.

"To payback," Geordi added.

"To vindication," Worf said, joining the toast.

"To blondes," Riker chortled as he lifted his own pint.

The door to Ten Forward slid open and Beverly, Deanna, and Tasha stepped in.

The five guys at the table burst out in a fresh fit of giggles at their appearance in the doorway. Even Data was smiling.

Geordi was laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

Worf threw his head back and let out a deep, Klingon belly laugh.

Commander Riker fell out of his chair.

Without a word, the three friends got their own table.

---

"They all think this is a riot!" Beverly exclaimed in disbelief.

"I don't want to look," Tasha confessed. "I didn't even know until I was at my first training this morning."

No wonder Geordi and Miles had given her a strange look on her way to the torpedo bay.

"Will was unbearable on the Bridge," Deanna shared. "He finally stopped when I told him that one more crack about blondes and I would mark a clinical diagnosis of fetishist disorder in his personnel file."

"You know I coloured my hair brown once when I was a kid," Beverly told them.

"It does look nice," Tasha said honestly.

Beverly shrugged.

"It's just not me," Beverly replied as she swirled the wine in her glass. "Never felt right."

"I know exactly what you mean," Deanna chimed in.

"Any information on what caused it yet, Doc?" Tasha inquired.

"None," Beverly replied.

She tipped her head back and took a long drink.

Beverly had very few patients. Her workload was pretty light. So, she spent most of the day trying to determine just what Riker had used to change their hair colour.

"I've tested everything I came into contact with over the last twenty-four hours," Beverly said. "I don't know how they did it – or how long it's going to last."

Tasha was staring down at the whisky she was nursing with both hands.

"Captain Picard has asked me to open a formal investigation," Tasha said.

Beverly perked up.

"Well, I'll be happy to help in any way I can," Beverly said.

"Me too," Deanna offered.

Between Tasha's investigative skills, Beverly's medical know-how, and Deanna's ability to study behaviour, the three of them were certain they could catch the culprit.

"Just look at them," Beverly grumbled.

"Do you think they were all in on it? Or just rallying around Riker?" Tasha inquired.

Deanna leaned forward and took a sip from her Samarian Sunset as she observed Riker's table. They certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves – albeit she wasn't sure if she could make up her mind yet. Deanna didn't want to prematurely conclude they were all guilty.

"I can't see Data, Geordi, Worf, and the Chief going in on something like this," Deanna said. "I think they're just circling around Riker because they found this latest prank highly amusing."

"You can say that again," Tasha muttered.

Deanna raised an eyebrow, silently asking Tasha for more of an explanation.

"Tasha?" Deanna prompted.

"I shouldn't tell you this. I just wanted to die with embarrassment," Tasha began.

She smiled and shook her head – she was still trying to wrap her brain around it.

"Data likes it," Tasha confessed. "He really likes it."

"I'm sure it's just the thought of something new," Deanna assured her.

She could sense Tasha was feeling a little uneasy about Data's enthusiasm.

"Once the newness wears off, I'm sure he'll realise that it was nothing more than a passing-" Deanna said, making an excuse.

"Oh, I don't mind," Tasha responded, cutting her off.

It wasn't entirely true.

Tasha had a relatively healthy opinion of her own self-image. But it had taken years for her to get comfortable in her own skin.

And with Data she had felt a sense of being truly content for the first time.

While she had initially been thrilled with his reaction earlier that morning, after learning about the colour swap – Tasha felt like she then understood his extra enthusiasm.

While she had certainly appreciated the attention, a part of her felt a bit disheartened knowing that the change in her appearance had been the cause.

It also disturbed her that Data hadn't mentioned it. She considered he may not have said anything specific for fear of saying the wrong thing.

Or he likes it more than my natural blonde colour. Tasha thought with a twinge of apprehension.

Tasha felt conflicted.

She couldn't get the thought of how excited Data had been out of her mind. And as embarrassed as she had been at the reception she got from the rest of the crew, it did make her feel beautiful.

At the same time, she just didn't quite feel like herself.

"It's not vain," Deanna said as she reached out to give Tasha's hand a squeeze.

Deanna could sense her uncertainty.

"Don't look now," Beverly said under her breath.

The guys were approaching the table.

"Evening," Geordi smiled. "May I just say how lovely you all look tonight."

None of them responded.

"Seventy-two hours," Riker announced.

He was only hoping to offer some reassurance that it wasn't permanent.

To the ladies, this was confirmation Riker was the one behind it all.

"Truce then?" Miles inquired with a smile.

Beverly made a show of looking at her fingernails.

Tasha leaned over her drink to avoid making eye contact.

Deanna crossed her arms and turned toward the window.

"Come on, Imzadi. We're still on for the concert, right?" Riker asked as he put his hand on Deanna's shoulder.

Deanna shifted in her seat, pulling her shoulder away from Riker.

"Say, why don't we all head back to my place for a few hands of poker?" Geordi suggested.

He was trying to lighten the mood.

Ever the dramatist, Beverly responded by raising her hand to her mouth and giving them a fake yawn.

"There is no honour in sulking," Worf remarked.

"I believe this is what is commonly referred to as the 'cold shoulder'," Data said.

"Figure that one out on your own, Sherlock?" Beverly quipped.

"I think they would like to be left alone," Data suggested.

---

A few hours later, Commander Riker stopped by Deanna's quarters. He wanted to apologise and make things right with her.

He never imagined that she would be so upset by a little practical joke.

In Riker's mind, it was just payback for what they had put him through.

Regardless, he could tell Deanna was taking it hard and wanted to make amends.

Unfortunately, Deanna was not ready to forgive and forget.

"Imzadi," Riker said, offering a warm greeting.

He held out a package.

"There's some Risian brandy cremes and chocolate-covered uttaberries. I threw in maple fudge and some of those hazelnut chocolates you like," Riker informed her.

"You've come to apologise," Deanna said.

"Look, I hate to see you miserable," Riker confessed.

"So you brought chocolate?" Deanna inquired.

Riker shrugged with a coy grin.

"May I come in?" Riker asked.

"No, but you can take your chocolates and shove them up your Jefferies tube," Deanna replied with polite sarcasm."

She handed the box back to him, gave him a pat on the chest, and then sealed the door.

Riker turned around and fell back against the wall. He slid down to the floor and sighed.

You really blew it this time. He thought.

---

Across the ship, Data had just wrapped up his evening with Geordi and Miles. He had stopped off at the lab to grab the bottle of whisky and was just about to Tasha's door.

They were well past the point of chiming – both of their quarters were programmed to allow one another entrance.

So Data was initially confused when Tasha's door didn't open at his approach.

Data typed in his keycode and there was a short buzzer noise signifying it hadn't been accepted.

Data made a second attempt only to receive the same results.

"Computer, please identify the error to door C-712 in subsection 19," Data requested.

"No error detected," the computer responded.

Before Data could chime, Tasha opened the door.

She did not move from the doorway.

"Hi," Data said.

He glanced down at the bottle of whisky.

"My analysis has confirmed this is, in fact, just whisky," Data informed her.

"Oh, that's good," Tasha replied.

Data nodded eagerly.

"You like it, don't you?" Tasha asked as she looked up at him.

"It is aesthetically pleasing," Data admitted.

Tasha bit her lip and Data's face lit up.

"And you really liked this morning?" Tasha continued.

"Yes," Data said breathlessly.

"That's nice," Tasha smiled. "Enjoy your engram."

To Data's shock, she sealed the door.

He stood there stuck in front of the door, blinking in bewilderment.

Data cocked his head to the left. His eyes shifted back and forth as he tried to deduce how he could have missed the obvious signs that Tasha's frustration was much more than a temporary position.

The door suddenly slid open.

"Tasha-" Data started to say.

"Night!" she said brightly as she snagged the bottle of whisky right out of his hands.

Before Data could react, she had sealed the door again.

---

The next morning, Commander Riker ran into Data and Miles in the canteen.

"You don't usually get breakfast here," Riker commented as he slid up to their table.

"It's the only place I can trust that I won't get a face full of oatmeal," Miles grumbled.

He angrily stabbed a sausage and brought it halfway to his mouth before dropping it back on the plate.

"This was a rotten idea," Miles huffed. "Keiko found out about our little revenge scheme. Says I never should have been involved."

"Deanna's not very pleased either," Riker said, hoping to make him feel better.

Miles shook his head.

"You don't understand, she said she won't see me. And she's demanding I apologise to them," Miles fumed. "Of all the stubborn, pig-headed notions."

He threw his hands up.

"She didn't get bombarded with oatmeal," Miles snapped.

For the last week he'd had nightmares about drowning in oatmeal.

The Chief paused and his shoulders slumped.

"And she won't even have breakfast with me anymore," Miles lamented.

They were already having enough trouble settling on wedding plans – the very last thing they needed was this kind of delay.

"Tasha didn't want to do breakfast with you either, eh?" Riker asked, turning to Data.

"I am, as you would say, in the doghouse," Data responded.

After Tasha had shut him out, Data had returned to his quarters and spent all night studying up lovers' quarrels and the cultural expectations for making restitution.

"So I contacted the Chief in hopes that he could give me some advice," Data explained.

"When I have some, I'll share it," Miles muttered.

He turned his attention back to his plate and resumed eating in frustration.

"This is a right mess," Riker admitted.

---

Keiko was replanting a bed of Alstroemerias when she sensed someone was behind her.

"Unless you've just come from apologising to Beverly, Deanna, and Tasha then the answer is no, Miles," Keiko said without turning around. "Those are my terms and I'm not compromising."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Geordi said.

Keiko dug into the dirt with her spade.

"Miles was too afraid to come himself?" Keiko asked in irritation.

"Miles didn't send me," Geordi shared.

Keiko stopped and turned around.

She wiped the sweat from her brow and removed her work gloves.

"Please hear me out, it wasn't Miles's idea. It was mine," Geordi confessed. "We just wanted to get back at them for pulling the other pranks."

Geordi told Keiko that Miles never wanted to see anyone get hurt – even hurt feelings.

"He's just really been on edge with these oatmeal attacks," Geordi explained.

"That's no excuse for what you did," Keiko said, chastising him.

Geordi's face fell.

"You're right," Geordi said in earnest. "I think we all just got caught up in the moment and the excitement. We've all been on edge with these tricks and Commander Riker thought it would get them to stop pulling these practical jokes."

Keiko put her hands on her hips.

"You can't ask me to believe Beverly, Deanna, and Tasha would waste time on frivolous pranks," Keiko said as she rolled her eyes. "Do you believe that?"

Geordi shrugged.

"I don't know," Geordi replied. "But I know that we feel bad, and Miles is miserable without you."

Keiko pulled herself up to her feet.

"Maybe I have been a little harsh on him," Keiko pondered aloud.

She chewed on the inside of her lip as she considered his words.

"You're a good apple, Geordi," Keiko said warmly.

---

Over in the Security Office, Tasha was typing away at her computer as she input the report details from their latest training logs.

Worf was at his own station reviewing their requisition requests.

For the last hour, neither of them had spoken.

While it wasn't unusual for the two to work quietly, their usual comfortable silence wasn't typically filled with this much tension.

"You know it wasn't his idea," Worf said suddenly.

Tasha didn't respond.

"He voiced concern for the plan," Worf added.

"Well good for him," Tasha said without tearing her eyes away from her report.

Tasha resumed tapping at the touchscreen as she input the completion times. She could care less if Data expressed concern for the plan. In Tasha's eyes, voicing trepidation was a far cry from refusing to participate.

In the end, Data had made the choice to join in.

"He did not want to hurt anyone," Worf went on.

Tasha glanced around the side of her computer.

"So you want me to give him a gold star?" Tasha asked sarcastically.

Worf made a face.

"He loves you," Worf said.

"I know that!" Tasha insisted.

That certainly wasn't in question.

"One bloody night!" Tasha exclaimed as she held her hand up. "One night alone does not constitute throwing our relationship out."

She knew that – and Tasha had made sure Data knew that as well. After locking him out, Tasha had paged him to ensure he understood that she just wanted some space.

She gave Worf a pleading look. Tasha really didn't want to talk about her feelings with anyone. But Worf was her closest friend.

And he had a way of understanding things better than most people.

"Worf, if you tell anyone what I'm about to share with you, I will murder you in your sleep and no one will find your body," Tasha warned.

Worf held up his hands, signalling that he was willing to accept those terms.

Tasha spilled her feelings to Worf, explaining that she was feeling a bit self-conscious and struggling to come to terms with it. Sleeping alone, she had plenty of time to sit in front of the mirror and think about her self-image.

She had never much cared all that much for makeup or fashion trends. Tasha enjoyed being comfortable. She liked practical clothing.

In her mind, being healthy was beautiful.

While it was fun to doll up at times, she really didn't feel compelled to do it every day. It just wasn't who Tasha was.

"And I can't help but feel a bit confused that I even care what Data thinks," Tasha confessed. "It's just, well, it was kind of surprising. I can tell he likes it."

Tasha slumped back against her chair and let her arms hang loose on the side.

"He did say that it reminds him of a young Jeanne Crain," Worf remarked.

Tasha scrunched up her face in confusion.

"An old Earth actress from Hollywood's Golden Era," Worf explained.

The irony of a Klingon explaining Terran cultural matters to a human was not lost on either of them.

But when it came to such things, Worf knew a great deal more than Tasha.

"But Commander Data also said that one of things admires about you is how beautiful you are, just as you are," Worf added.

Tasha scoffed.

"Nice try," Tasha said as she resumed typing.

"Would I lie to you?" Worf retorted.

Tasha stopped typing.

"He really said that?" Tasha asked, her voice softening.

---

The next morning, Tasha was up early. She was feeling bad for giving Data the cold shoulder and decided it was time to make the first move toward reconciliation.

Data had been on Night Watch overnight, so Tasha had decided to bring him breakfast. She figured he was probably up overnight fixated on one thing or another at his workstation.

Tasha pressed the chime but there was no answer.

She surmised she probably deserved it for locking him out of her rooms the night before.

Tasha bit her thumb as she weighed her options.

Deciding it was worth the risk, she let herself in.

She was surprised to see he wasn't at his workstation.

Tasha set the canister of tea and basket of fruit she had brought along down on the table.

She stopped in the doorway and smiled as she saw his outline lying down in bed. The room was dark, and it was evident he had activated his rest programme.

She was pleased to see he was sleeping.

Before they had begun their relationship, Data had only utilised the programme when absolutely necessary – typically once a week for an hour or so.

With her encouragement, Data had started resting nightly. It gave him the opportunity to explore his dream programme and he found he operated more efficiently following a good night's sleep.

It was only 04:30 so Tasha silently slipped out of her boots. She pulled the covers back and slid into bed behind him.

"I'm sorry," Tasha said as she snuggled up against him.

Data didn't respond.

"I missed you," Tasha confessed.

She gave him a squeeze, but Data remained motionless.

"Data?" Tasha asked, concerned.

She sat up and pulled the covers back.

Tasha startled. Scrambling backwards, she fell off the bed.

Clutching her chest to catch her breath, Tasha tried to focus.

Before she could formulate a hypothesis, a loud march began blared from the ships' communication system.

---

Geordi La Forge jumped as soon as he heard the music.

Stars and Stripes Forever.

He hissed and covered his ears.

Geordi stumbled out of his quarters and into the corridor.

As soon as he stepped out of his quarters, the sound stopped.

Geordi walked back inside where the music was deafeningly loud.

He turned around and walked right back out into the corridor where it was as quiet as it normally was at that hour.

---

A consummate night owl, Guinan was still up.

When the music started she shook her head and resumed her tarot reading.

"When will these kids learn?" she said aloud.

She flipped over the next card and saw it was The Chariot card.

"Not today," Guinan surmised as she placed it in her spread.

---

Miles sat bolt upright as the music went off and bumped his head on the coffee table.

He'd been so paranoid about waking up in a bed of oatmeal that he had taken to sleeping on the floor.

Geordi thought he was nuts.

But Miles had insisted that there was no anybody was going to get him again.

After all, they couldn't very well turn the floor into oatmeal.

"I hate Sousa," Miles muttered.

---

Commander Riker stomach jumped to his throat as the music blasted out from the communication system. He rolled out of bed and straight into a pool of water.

Riker fumbled for a moment, panicking as he felt something rubbery swim breeze past him in the water.

Riker panicked. Kicking his legs and paddling, he moved to get his head above water.

Before he could, some whizzed past against him in the water.

Holodeck? Riker wondered.

Surely, the ladies wouldn't dump him in some holographic ocean to wake up next to a shark.

Would they? Riker considered with alarm.

After a few seconds he broke free of the water, sputtering and gasping for air.

Before he could open his eyes, Riker heard a series of familiar clicking noises.

As he treaded water, he glanced around to see several of the cetacean crew members using their flippers to swim backwards and clicking as they greeted him.

"Echo, Tuna, Frank," Riker said, nodding to them.

---

Captain Picard sat up in bed with a look of pure fury.

"Computer, cease music!" Picard barked.

Jean-Luc threw his feet over the edge of the bed and straight into his slippers.

He tossed on his dressing gown and cinched the waist a bit too tight in anger.

Jean-Luc had made clear that there were to be no additional pranks.

Waking up the ship at 04:30 in the morning with John Phillip Sousa was a direct – and rather gauche – violation of that order.

He marched out into his Ready Room and hailed Commander Riker.

There was no answer.

"Computer, get me Commander Riker," Picard demanded.

Once again, the hail went unanswered.

"Computer, what is the current location of Commander Riker?" Picard asked.

"Commander Riker is in the Cetacean Operations Division," the computer responded.

No doubt planning his next joke. Picard theorised.

Captain Picard threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Computer, notify Commander Riker that I want to see him in my Ready Room immediately," Picard shouted.

He didn't like to raise his voice, but Jean-Luc was at his wit's end.

He turned back toward his personal quarters.

Captain Picard was a foot shy of the door when he stopped and backed up.

"Sir," Data, or rather Data's cranial unit, said from its resting place on the bottom of Livingston's fish tank.

---

All across the ship, each of the senior officers had been rudely awoken by the early-morning music.

All that is, except for one.

Worf was usually an early riser.

He'd had a relatively mundane, but pleasant dream – nothing out of the ordinary.

He had dreamed he was back in Minsk at his babushka's home in the Trajekaje pradmiescie historic neighbourhood that sat along the bank of Svislach river.

Worf sat up and stretched, trying to hold onto the warm, fuzzy feeling from his dream.

He yawned, arching his back as he extended his arms.

Worf glanced around and let his eyes adjust to the dark.

All of sudden, he realised he was not in his own quarters.

In fact, Worf became keenly aware that he was not aboard the Enterprise.

Scrambling out of bed, he tripped in a bundle of blankets.

He pulled himself up, cursing in Klingon, and stepped out into the front of the shuttle.

Worf let out a powerful, resounding roar of anger as he saw the viewscreen.

---

Twenty minutes later, the entire senior staff was assembled in the Observation Lounge. Captain Picard had ordered them there on the double – no excuses.

For a moment, no one said anything as they all looked around the room.

Miles was sporting a big red spot on his forehead where he had banged his head.

Commander Riker was sopping wet and dripping all over the carpet.

Geordi was resting his head on the surface of the table.

Deanna was fighting to stay awake in her chair – she was usually up late and rarely rose before 07:00.

Beverly looked an absolute mess – she had been up late working in the lab. While normally the picture of pristine and perky in the morning, Beverly's dressing gown was dishevelled, and she hadn't had time to brush her hair.

Tasha was glancing around, growing more worried by the second.

"Data's not here," she said. "Or Worf."

"Then they're lucky," Geordi said without lifting his head.

"Or responsible," Riker pondered aloud.

Deanna sat up and shot him a glare.

"What?" Riker asked.

"I woke up with a giant hot fudge sundae in my bathtub!" Deanna seethed. "Another chocolate apology, Imzadi?"

Her voice was dripping with disdain.

"Please. It's too early to argue," Beverly groaned.

---

Captain Picard straightened his uniform and stepped out onto the Bridge.

Lieutenant Hawk cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised to see the Captain carrying Commander Data's head.

"They're all waiting for you in the Observation Lounge as requested, sir," Hawk reported. "Except, Lieutenant Worf."

"Then find him," Picard demanded.

"We're having trouble locating his signature," Hawk explained.

The Helm beeped.

"Sir, we're getting a request for landing permission for a shuttle," Ensign Farahmand announced.

She turned around in her seat to look back at the Captain.

"It's Lieutenant Worf," she advised.

---

When the door to the Observation Lounge slid open, Captain Picard was greeted with a loud argument.

His senior officers were bickering with one another.

Everyone was talking at once.

And tensions were running high as accusations flew back and forth across the table.

As Captain Picard swept into the room, everyone fell silent.