UPDATE! :D Things have been crazy busy going to New York and back and anyway after several weeks of rain and chaos I vowed that I was going to write something out today no matter what. Of course, I made the same vow yesterday and the day before, and the day before... But tonight I actually managed it and it was so wonderful to FINALLY get to write out something new! I just hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please let me know what you think! :)

Chapter Thirteen

"Your mom's a real nut, you know that?" Ishta said, crouched in her usual way against the wall facing the sliding doors. "Where does she come off locking you in your room like this? And, why the hell are you just sitting there letting her do it?"

"She is not, she didn't 'lock' me in my room, and I'm not 'letting' her do anything," Kahlestra grunted, shooting a glare over the stack of work padds cluttering her small, metallic desk. "I need to fix this essay. And you can sit on a chair, you know."

"She is, you are, and I like it where I am," Ishta retorted. "Besides, I thought you said you were done with this school work crap."

"Mother said my last essay was rushed and sloppy, and she's right," Kahlestra said irritably. "I can't risk letting my grades slip. So, shut up for a minute and let me finish this. I want to be done before dinner so we can go help Data after!"

Ishta snorted, propping her chin on her knees and squinting her eyes.

"And if you're not?" she said. "What's mommy-dearest gonna do? Yell at you? Slap you around? Jab you with some Klingon pain stick?"

"This isn't about her, OK," Kahlestra snapped. "So, drop it!"

"What's the big deal?" Ishta pressed. "School's out, isn't it? Isn't that why you're here, on this dustball planet? 'Cause your big-shot scientist mommy didn't have anywhere else to stick you for the summer?" She smirked. "What's a matter: Daddy too busy with his new family to find time for you?"

"It's not like that!"

Kahlestra fiercely whacked a stack of padds, sending them flying toward the young Orion so hard and so fast, Ishta had to cover her head with her arms.

"What the hell?" she shrieked.

"You don't know anything about my mother or my Family," Kahlestra snarled. "So why don't you just shut up!"

Ishta stood, her blue eyes burning behind her long bangs.

"I know a lot," she retorted. "Way more than you and your sheltered little school-box brain will ever know. In fact, I'm still alive because I learn fast, and I listen."

Kahlestra grunted.

"Whatever."

"I know your mom was supposed to be best friends with that Dr. Baker lady who got killed," Ishta said, advancing slowly until she was leaning over the small desk. "I know Dr. Baker was the one who got her a job here after government funding for her solar-shields project dried up. And, I know that this afternoon when those other scientists told your mom how Dr. Baker got killed protecting you, she just stood there and nodded like they just gave her some dumb data analysis report. She didn't so much as shed one tear!"

"Duh," Kahlestra snarked, grimly fisting her scarred hand. "Of course she didn't. She's a Klingon."

"What, are you saying Klingons are too tough to cry?" Ishta taunted.

"Pahtak!" Kahlestra pushed back the table, forcing the Orion to step away. "I'm staying we can't. Klingons don't have tear ducts, Miss 'I Know A Lot'!"

"Then, how do your eyes stay wet?" Ishta snapped back.

"Read for yourself," Kahlestra said, ramming a data chip into one of her school padds and tossing it at her. "There, everything you never wanted to know about Klingon anatomy. Have fun!"

Ishta caught the padd, but didn't look at the screen. Just holding it seemed to make her uncomfortable.

"You can't expect me to read a Klingon book."

Kahlestra rolled her eyes.

"It's in Standard. Just look at the title."

"I don't care," Ishta said, holding the padd out to her like a dead mouse. "I'm not reading this."

"Come on, it's basic fifth-grade biology. We went through the whole thing last year, and it's really—"

"Hey!" Ishta snapped, her sudden flare of outrage genuinely startling the young Klingon. "Just because I never went to some fancy school doesn't mean I haven't learned things. Real things about real life. So, maybe mother-dearest can force you to sit here all day filling your head with this bookworm shit, but I don't need it, OK! I don't need any of you!"

She slammed the padd against the edge of the desk so hard the protective plastic cover splintered, then tossed it to the floor and stormed out of Kahlestra's family dome.

"Fine!" Kahlestra shouted after her, angrily picking up and re-stacking her scattered padds. "I never asked you to come in here anyway!"

The desert sun was beginning to sink below the hills, but the wind and sand still burned as Ishta ran across the compound, stopping near the mid-point to scream at the top of her lungs.

She stood there and screamed again and again, until she sank to her knees and sobbed – harsh, broken, angry gasps that only deepened her despair.

"…stupid…" she sobbed against the sand. "What the hell is the point of getting out when you're too dumb for any other life…"

"But, why would she wish to isolate her daughter to such an extent?" Data inquired, snapping the access panel back into place on Mikey's biobed and moving to the wall terminal to test his new link-ups. "Would it not be more beneficial to her education to gain hands-on experience?"

"I don't know, Data," Dr. Crusher said as she ran similar function tests on the incubation tray across the room. The tray housed an array of clear canisters Nurse Ogawa had filled with a softly glowing pink growth solution. The cloned organs they had started in the lab would be ready for transfer into those canisters within the next four to six hours, and Crusher wanted to see for herself that the runabout's equipment was working as it should, rather than rely on a single, remote diagnostic cycle. "But, from what I've learned dealing with Worf and Alexander, Klingons can be pretty intense when it comes to education. To them, education isn't about allowing children to explore their own interests as they learn. It's about passing down traditions. Codes of conduct, philosophies, ways of doing and thinking and telling stories that go back centuries. Many Klingons view their traditions as a long, unbroken branch connecting past and future, and some more conservative groups worry that exposure to foreign ideas and outside influences breeds doubt and questions that can too easily snap that branch, shattering their cultural continuity and, by extension, their children's link with their past, forever."

"Hm," Data grunted musingly. "But, Doctor, if that is the case, why would Kurak allow her daughter to travel to a Federation world in the first place?"

"Maybe she didn't have a choice, Data," Crusher said. "It can be very difficult being a single parent, especially when your work requires you to travel. I remember how hard it was when I left Wesley to take that position at Starfleet Medical, and that was only for a year. Of course, he was older, and he had Jean-Luc and all of you as his mentors… But, in that year, he changed so much, and I knew I could never get back that time with him. Working here, so far from the Klingon Empire… I can barely imagine how hard it must be for a Klingon struggling to raise a young daughter from such a distance."

Data furrowed his brow.

"Perhaps…" he said. "But, I am still of the opinion that Kahlestra's interests would be better served if—"

"Data," Crusher said, walking to his side and placing a hand on his arm. "Let me give you some advice. No matter how good your intentions may be, getting between a parent and her child is never wise."

"But, Doctor, you didn't see—"

"Listen," she said. "Kurak may be high-strung, but she's really not as close-minded as she seems. Give her a few days to relax, to get used to us being here. If you respect her decisions now, I think she'll come to acknowledge that your friendship with Kay isn't a threat to her authority. In fact, she might just realize it's been beneficial to both of you."

Data sighed through his nose, but nodded.

"I understand," he said. "If our roles were reversed, I would likely hesitate to trust a stranger with my daughter."

Crusher smiled, just slightly, and gave the android's arm an affectionate pat.

"So," she said, "how's the stasis field coming?"

"The computer simulations I ran through with Geordi were quite promising," he reported, his expression brightening as he spoke. "And my initial tests of these new link-ups indicate the redundancies I have built into the runabout's power system to supply the field will hold as planned. Once I have finished constructing and programming this new control pad, I will be ready to test the field's performance."

"I'd like a chance to practice manipulating the field as well," Crusher said, watching his pale hands precisely arrange minute data chips and circuit boards at a speed that would seem surreal if she wasn't so used seeing him deal cards at the weekly poker games the senior staff still held aboard the Enterprise. "I need to know how it feels using my instruments while the stasis field is in operation. If there's any interference or refraction when I activate the laser scalpel—"

"I assure you, I am taking all such matters into consideration," Data said. "If the field works as planned, the operation itself should take place in real time. Only the effects on Mikey's body will be slowed, allowing his systems more time to adapt to and recover from the trauma, and more time for you to identify and remove any cancerous cells that may recur following the transplants."

"Well, I'll believe it when I see it," she said, casting a long glance at Mikey's peacefully sleeping face. "But, I'll warn you again, Data, not to get your hopes too high. When a cancer is this advanced, the chances of survival—"

"I am quite aware of the statistics, Doctor," Data interrupted her. "Just as I am aware that an adjustable stasis field like the one I have designed has never yet been employed to aid such an operation. If this field performs as anticipated, the likelihood of Mikey's survival jumps from practically nil to nearly forty percent. Factor in your skill and experience, as well as that of Lt. Ogawa and myself, and the likelihood jumps still higher. Beyond that…"

His busy hands stilled, and he turned to face her.

"Mikey wants to live, Doctor," he said, the passion in his voice mirrored in his amber eyes. "Surely, that must count for something."

Crusher pursed her lips, and covered his warm hand with hers.

"It does, Data," she said, still marveling at the way he could look and act so different, yet seem so much the same. "It counts for a great deal. But, let me tell you something most doctors have to learn the hard way."

She led him to a folding metal chair and pulled over a wheeled stool so she could sit beside him.

"You can't hinge your hopes, or your self-confidence, on the outcome of an operation. The cold facts are, you can plan for every contingency, you can do everything exactly right, yet still lose the patient in the end."

Data sighed through his nose and shook his head, his expression wry.

"Doctor, I realize you are attempting to prepare me, emotionally, for a potentially negative outcome and I appreciate the effort, but there really is no need," he said. "Mikey and I have already spoken extensively on this very topic. In addition…" He averted his eyes, just slightly. "I have been through a similar situation before."

Crusher winced as a tangible sadness washed over the android's expression, making his fresh, youthful skin seem washed out and careworn.

"I'm sorry, Data," she said, memories of Lal's loss causing her own heart to ache. "I should have realized—"

"No, Doctor, you have no reason to apologize," he said. "I too am a scientist. I understand that even the most painstakingly conducted experiments can fail."

"But, as scientists," Crusher said, "we mustn't forget that such experiments still have value. Even if the outcome doesn't go as planned, the results can lead to other breakthroughs. That's why it's important for us to think globally in a situation like this, and consider the broader potential of your innovations. Data, I'd like to ask you something."

"Please do," he said, and she smiled.

"With your permission, I'd like to write an article about this invention of yours. Perhaps we could collaborate – I'll outline the medical procedure, you fill in the technical side. What do you say? Are you interested?"

Data blinked, his eyebrows raised halfway to his hairline.

"Is this proposal not a bit premature?" he said.

"I don't think so," she told him. "This adjustable stasis field you've cooked up could have a considerable number of applications, and not just in the medical field. I'd say an article is warranted, no matter the outcome."

Data seemed rather overwhelmed.

"I must admit, while I have been a subject of numerous scientific and medical texts, I have never yet submitted my own work to a medical journal. I suppose I feared such a submission by an android might seem…presumptuous…"

He blinked a few more times, then raised his head, a broad smile stretched across his face.

"Yes, Doctor," he said. "I would be honored and delighted to co-author a paper with you."

"Excellent," she said, and gave his shoulder a friendly clasp. "I'd like to get Alyssa in on this as well. This operation will be something entirely new. I want to be sure to record every aspect."

"As you wish, Doctor," Data said. "I believe Mikey will be quite pleased to learn our efforts to save his life may well have a positive impact on the lives of others."

"I think you're right. And you should be the one to tell him, as soon as he wakes up," Crusher said, and she and Data rose to their feet, ready to head back to their work.

"Beverly," Data said, and she turned in surprise.

"Yes, Data?"

"I… I am not quite certain if I am phrasing this correctly," he said. "But, I believe I have a 'good feeling' about this upcoming operation. The sensation is not logical or rational yet, somehow, I know this procedure will work. Do…do you have a similar…feeling?"

Crusher considered his question seriously before answering, "Actually, Data, I think I do."

The android beamed, a new sort of confidence adding speed and surety to his inhumanly nimble fingers as, over the next few minutes, he finished constructing the control pad and hooked it into place.

"Doctor," he announced, "we can begin testing the field's functionality as soon as you are ready to—"

A harsh, windy sound crackled over the runabout's comm system, followed closely by Freja's voice.

"Attention all personnel: a group meeting will be held in the main cafeteria in fifteen minutes. Dinner will be directly after the meeting, followed by a special memorial service for our dear friend, Dr. Melinda Baker. Once again, that's the main cafeteria in fifteen minutes. Don't be late!"

"It's fourteen and a half minutes now," Data couldn't keep himself from commenting as he strode toward the adjoining lab where Howard had been dutifully assisting Nurse Ogawa.

"Excuse me," he said politely, waiting for the silvery-green robot to face him before he went on. "Howard, I need you to watch over things here for a couple of hours. Please contact me at once if Mikey wakes up, or if his status should change in any way. Do you understand, Howard?"

"I understand," Howard acknowledged cheerily, and Ogawa smiled behind her hand. "I am here to serve."

"Thank you, Howard," Data said. "Lieutenant, are there any orders you would wish to add?"

"Actually, if it's all right, sir, I'd like to stay here with Howard and continue what I'm doing. That meeting isn't for me. My time would be better spent monitoring these samples."

"Doctor?" Data inquired.

"It's all right with me, Alyssa," Crusher said from the other room.

"Then, I agree as well," Data said, offering her a smile which she gratefully returned.

Data turned to leave, only to find Howard shadowing his footsteps.

"Howard?" he inquired. "Is there a reason you are following me?"

"I am Howard," Howard said. "I am here to serve. If Lt. Ogawa is to remain, are my services here no longer required?"

Data quirked an eyebrow, regarding the robot curiously.

"How intriguing," he said. "You've never questioned an order before."

"I am here to serve," Howard announced. "My purpose is to best serve you."

"Indeed?" Data kindly clasped the robot's arm. "Then listen closely. Mikey's status is extremely important to me. Therefore, you can best serve me by staying here and following my orders. Understood?"

"Understood," Howard said, and moved obligingly toward Mikey's biobed. "I am here to serve. I will monitor the boy's condition and contact you at once if there is any change."

"That's right..." Data said, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"Anything wrong, Data?" Crusher asked, returning from the sickbay's small washroom to hang up her long, blue lab coat on her way toward the door.

"I do not believe so, Doctor," Data told her, though his sharp eyes were still fixed on the robot. "But, as soon as Mikey's operation is over, I intend to conduct a comprehensive pathway analysis of Howard's duotronic brain."

He blinked away his intense expression, then offered her a friendly smile as he gestured politely toward the sliding doors.

"After you, Doctor."

To Be Continued…

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