Bad Moon Rising

Stardate 46761.08
(Sunday, 12 October 2369, 7:07 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

As October took over from September, the weather in Connecticut began to turn cooler. T-shirts gave way to sweaters and hoodies, and most of us either wore pants or jeans to class or added cotton tights beneath our skirts.

They even sent Maintenance to every residence hall to ensure our heating systems were working.

At the same time, harvest-themed decorations began to appear all over campus, pumpkins, gourds, dried corn, and sheaves of wheat complimenting the oranges and golds and deep reds of the turning leaves.

The change of seasons was something I hadn't really experienced since I first moved to the Enterprise – I'd left Earth before fall had really taken hold the previous year - and as much as I missed home – and Data – I was enjoying little things like the way the fallen leaves crunched satisfyingly underfoot as I walked from my room to the dining hall, to class, or to coffee. As well, as I'd explained to Beverly Crusher during her visit, the seasons in Beach Haven, on Centaurus weren't as dramatically different as those in New England on Earth.

Earlier that afternoon, I'd used the video recorder Data had sent to capture images of the leaves, and explained where I was on campus, for his reference. Later, I would splice my recording into a message to him. But it would have to wait, because I was running late for an important Yale tradition.

During the week, students could take their meals pretty much anywhere on campus. Anjali and I made it a habit to have breakfast together most days, with Margo and Chuni joining us about half the time. (It was normal, I was told, for suitemates to form sub-groups. We all got along, but Anjali and I had been closer ever since I'd held her hair while she puked a few weeks before.) On those days, we ate at the Commons - the main dining hall on the Old Campus. The rest of the time, we grabbed food wherever we were. Durfee's, one of the other dining halls, one of the cafes where you could use your meal card on a credit-equivalency basis – all of these were options.

But Sunday nights were when each college closed their doors to anyone except the members of that college. Sunday nights were Family Dinner, and on those nights, my dinner was in the dining hall at Davenport.

In the waning light, I quickened my pace. I wasn't particularly concerned about being alone, but the shadows could get spooky, and my imagination tended to go into overdrive. Mostly, I thought I glimpsed the hard-edged, black-clad form of my partner's twin, Lore, but it was never him. Just trees or lampposts or other students.

"You're late!" Erika, one of the other FroCos assigned to Welch Hall greeted me as I scurried into the dining hall. "Marco and I saved you a seat, and your roommate is there." She led the way to a table close to the fireplace at the far end of the room. It was premium seating, since that fireplace actually functioned. "It's prime rib tonight for those of us who eat meat," the older woman added. "And roasted root vegetables. High class comfort food."

I laughed with her and was still smiling when I settled into a seat across from my theatre-friend Marco, and next to – not Anjali – but Chuni. "Hey," I said. "Thanks for saving me a spot."

"That was me, actually," Chuni admitted. "Anj said you'd be running late. She and Margo got tapped for Dean's Table." The dark-eyed, punk-haired woman stared at me, appraisingly. "Is it true you're friends with the dean?"

"Um… well, I know her socially, yes, but really my boyfriend and her husband, Professor Wire-Whiskers are friends. I'm just… friend-adjacent."

"Zoe is our best-connected first-year," Erika announced to those sitting nearby – a mix of other first years, and some of her friends.

"I doubt that's true," I countered.

"Don't be so sure," she said, but she was teasing lightly, and I didn't mind.

The servers appeared with soups and salads and we all set to eating as we talked. That was the other special thing about Family Dinner. Most other meals were served cafeteria style, with trays and stations and such.

"So, Erika is the director of the Davenport orchestra," Chuni pointed out. "And I was thinking… I've heard you practicing your cello, and I play violin, and we should join."

Marco, sitting across from me, cut off his chat with two other guys from his year. "Zoe, you dance, you act… you play an instrument. Do you sing, too? Tell me you do, so I can complete my envy cycle."

I rolled my eyes at my dramatic friend. "I do sing, when I have to, but cello was my thing before acting was."

"Zoe's father is Zach Harris," Erika pointed out. "Are any of us surprised?" Like my other suitemate, Margo, Erika was blonde, but while my suitemate was a warm, sunny sort of blonde, the senior was a cooler, paler type.

"Reveal all my secrets, why don't you?" I grumbled. I put an amused lilt into it, but I really wasn't thrilled.

"Are you embarrassed to be related to him?" Erika asked.

"No. No not at all. I just would rather be known for myself than my family." Or my boyfriend, I added silently, and then cringed at the thought.

But Erika merely nodded. "I get it," she said. "I'm sorry. Auditions are next Wednesday. It's the first day of October Break, I know, but that's when we always do them. If you get in, we do an orchestra brunch on Saturday mornings after rehearsal." Again, the older student paused, seeming to consider. "You don't have plans to go home for the break?"

Chuni shook her head and I couldn't help it, I started laughing.

"Zoe, girlfriend, are you okay?" Marco again, his dark eyes widening in alarm.

"I'm fine," I said, reaching for my water glass. "It's just… I couldn't go home, even if I wanted to. Home is on the other side of the galaxy at the moment."

Someone sitting a few people down from Erika joined our conversation asking, "Are you from some colony world?"

Chuni and I shared a look, and then I shrugged. Directing my answer toward the person who had asked I explained. "Nope. Starship." Then I refocused on my dinner and the people sitting closest to me: Marco, a year ahead of me but in my program – outgoing, funny, and inclusive. And Chuni, my suitemate, with her purple hair and a boyfriend at Princeton. Apparently, that tendency was typical for pre-med students. I hadn't known that before meeting her. Two such different people, and both of them were my friends. College wasn't so bad, after all.

(=A=)

Stardate 46786.27
(Tuesday, 14 October 2369, 11:45 PM local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

I finished writing my paper comparing and contrasting Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet with the twentieth-century musical West Side Story for my Theatre Literature class and glanced at the clock. Not quite midnight. Too early to comm Data – he was performing in a play on the Enterprise and had given me the schedule, helpfully providing time conversions.

I proofed my paper one more time, then send it to my professor's account, and pulled out the reading for Whiskers' class. As much as the subject fascinated me, I also felt like I was floundering, getting bogged down in the difference between what I was learning about AI in general, and what questions I should have been asking Data, specifically.

So far, I was carrying a high B average in the course, but even my math class didn't require as much study or attention. Currently we were in the middle of a unit on 'Reason as Evaluation,' which began with Turing's work and went beyond it. I often felt like I was taking a computer programming class, rather than something that was supposed to give me a philosophy credit.

Then, too, there was the fact that discussing these things just made me lonely for my boyfriend. It hadn't even been a full six weeks since I'd seen him, but if the ship had been close enough, I'd have skipped classes to get there during our upcoming break.

I left my bed and moved out to the common room, where I replicated a mug of tea and a fruit and cheese plate. I thought about bringing my padd out to the couch to read in the lofty space near the holographic fire, but decided against it, collecting my mug and plate and heading back to my room.

The door to the suite opened as I was heading down the hall. "Zoe? Is that you?" I turned to face Margo, slipping in after a late night. "I didn't wake you, did I?" My room was the closest to the common room. It was also the biggest of the four.

"No, I was up." I lifted my mug in her direction. "Needed fuel for my Psychology of AI reading." I took a long look at the other woman. I noticed that her usually perfectly-styled blonde hair was messy, as if she'd been rubbing her scalp out of stress. "Are you okay?"

"I'll live," she evaded. "Do you… can you maybe get a coffee with me tomorrow? My last class finishes at three."

"I can talk now, if you want, but otherwise, I'm done at three also."

She shook her head. "No, I know you're probably waiting for a call from Data."

I was, but I would have put it off for a friend in need. "Okay, tomorrow then. The Bistro? Or somewhere else?"

"The Bistro is fine." She yawned. "Sorry, I seriously need to get acquainted with my pillow." She cocked her head toward the hallway and the soft pinging of the subspace signal coming from my room. "And your call is coming in. Tell him I say hi." She grinned and headed to bed.

I gave the voice-instruction to put the call through and used my foot to push my door closed. "Data," I greeted as I settled onto the end of my bed and put my plate down beside me. "Hi."

"Am I calling too late?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Never. But you should know that I came this close to asking the duty officer to set me up with travel details for next week." I used my fingers to demonstrate a miniscule amount of space. Then I sighed. "I miss you."

"I miss you also. But we do not have a scheduled visit until- "

"I know," I said, cutting him off. "It's just, we only have two days of classes next week, and Whiskers' class just makes me miss you more, and… " I sighed again. "I'm sorry. I'm just in a weird mood. How did the play go?"

"I believe I was effective in the role of the psychiatrist," he answered. "I arranged for a recording of the performance if you wish to see it."

"If?" I asked, teasing him. "If? Of course, I want to see you perform. Send the file, and I'll watch it over the weekend."

"I will send it as soon as we have finished our conversation. Are you still struggling with the material in Whiskers' class, or is it something else about it that is causing you distress?"

"A little of both. The material is challenging. I don't have any real programming classes under my belt, and I think a bit more background would be helpful. But mostly it's personal. Every class, I realize I haven't been asking you the right questions. Or enough. Or…" I stopped. This was information Data already had and it was a frequent topic of our calls.

"There is a basic programming book that may be beneficial to you. If you wish, I will have a copy delivered."

"I guess."

"Zoe?"

I shook my head to clear it. "I'm sorry. Like I said, I'm in a weird mood. I miss you. I miss home. I miss sex."

"Ah."

"How does that rate an 'ah'?"

"I believe your mood is related to the absence of sexual intimacy in your life. I have noticed that when our schedules did not allow regular…" But he trailed off, apparently responding to my glare. "Dearest?"

"You just implied that I'm cranky because I'm horny. I'm not going to discuss my… personal relief… habits with you over subspace. It doesn't make me miss you any less. And it makes me feel like you think I think sex is the most important part of our relationship, when it's not."

"I do not believe that you think such a thing," he said. "But if we cannot talk about these things, Zoe, I cannot help you."

"See, when you say 'help,' what you really mean is 'fix,' and you can't, Data. This isn't something you can fix. Not the way you mean, anyway."

"Then what can I do, dearest?" He always used that word when he was trying to soothe me.

"Can you just… can you just talk to me, talk about anything, and let me just listen for a while? If I can't touch you, I'd just like to hear your voice." I managed a soft smile. "I used to dream about curling up inside your voice, before I realized I really wanted to curl up inside your arms."

I saw the widening of his eyes that meant he was touched by what I'd said, that meant he truly got it. "I miss our intimacy as well, Zoe. Physical, sexual and merely the day-to-day intimacy of sharing a home. Please do not doubt that."

"I don't. But… "

"I will talk." He seemed to peer through the screen at me. "You have tea, but you are not drinking it. I will talk, but you must drink your tea while I do so."

I lifted the mug, found that it was still warm, and made a show of taking a sip. "Deal."

"We are currently entering the Tilonus system, en route to the only populated world there, Tilonus Four. The government there has collapsed – "

" – I think I saw that on the news – "

"Very likely. There is a team of Federation researchers assigned there, and they have not checked in since the last report of the planetary government devolving into a state of total anarchy."

"You're sending someone to find them?"

"The captain is, yes."

"Not you, I'm guessing."

"I do not believe so. They are a warp-capable society, but are not yet members of the Federation, and I do not believe my presence there would be beneficial. I have been researching the world and culture, working with Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher to assemble a comprehensive dossier, but it has been… challenging."

"Oh?"

"Their computer networks are not up to date, and the power grids have been going offline as different factions take control, and then reassign personnel. We are scanning their news and entertainment media, of course, but I am not certain it will be enough."

"If I were the one being sent to a planet, I can't think of anyone I'd rather have providing me with information," I said.

"Thank you, Zoe." I let silence fall between us, and Data began to speak again. "Commander Darren has left the Enterprise, and the quartet has begun rehearsing again. Ensign Cheney is… competent… but she does not have the passion for music that you do. I have also observed that her understanding of music theory is weak."

"Maybe don't offer tutorials in our quarters," I half-teased.

"No," he agreed. "I will not. I suggested that she take advantage of the holodeck program that you had initially asked me to unlock for you."

"Do you ever wish you had?"

"Zoe?"

"Do you ever wish you had just unlocked the program for me? It would have made both our lives a lot less complicated."

"I believe the 'complications' are worth it. It is my understanding that you believe this as well." He took a beat, as Spot jumped onto the console. "Apparently, Spot wishes to say hello." He scratched the orange tabby behind her ears and put her back on the floor. "Down is good, Spot," he reminded her, even though we all knew it was useless.

"I'd rather have complications with you than a simple life with anyone else," I said, when my partner was focused on his monitor again. "Even when I'm whining about being lonely." I took a deep breath. "I've finished my tea and the fruit and cheese I had to go with it. I should probably go to bed."

"I will look forward to your thoughts on my performance," Data said. "And we are nearly half-way through your first semester, Zoe. Separation is sub-optimal, but it is also temporary."

"Thanks for the reminder. I love you."

"I love you, also. Goodnight, dearest."

After we ended the call, I realized that I hadn't mentioned my audition.

(=A=)

Stardate 46788.02
(Wednesday, 15 October 2369, 3:08 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

It was chilly, and raining, and I'd worn the wrong shoes, so my feet sloshed as I crossed the pine floor of the Bistro, one of the on-campus cafes where a meal card could be used to buy soups, salads, sandwiches and any number of drinks. Wednesday's special was a vegetarian black bean soup, one of my favorites, so I ordered a bowl of that and a grilled-cheese sandwich, along with a double latte. I had collected my tray and was scanning the area for Margo, who'd asked me to meet her. I found her at table tucked in the corner of two walls of windows. It should have been cold, with the rain pelting down outside, but there was a heat vent along the floor, and I knew she'd chosen the spot for just that reason.

"Hey," I said, sitting down. "Sorry I'm late. I know you said 'coffee,' but my morning class ran long, and I didn't have time for a real lunch. Thank god for double swiping." Yale meal cards could be used twice for lunch, as long as the first time was at an actual dining hall.

"I hear you," she said. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Glad to, but… why me? I thought you were closer to Chuni."

"We were both in the summer program here, so we know each other from that, but we're not any closer than you and Anjali. Really."

"Okay…" I began to eat though I noticed that she was merely toying with her coffee. "Margo, are you okay?"

I saw her take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm afraid," she said. "I'm afraid I might be pregnant."

"Oh… Margo."

"I know, right?" she said. "Here I am, straight-A student, got into Yale, and I can't even master basic biocontrol."

Biocontrol was taught in every public secondary school in the Federation, and most of the private schools as well. Even on the Enterprise, where we had access to injectable long-term birth control those of us who were still in compulsory education were required to take health classes that included biocontrol techniques, and pass exams in it.

My friends and I didn't typically discuss our birth control choices, but I knew Annette was on the same shot I was, and I was pretty sure Dana was not, but was using other options in addition to what we'd all been taught.

"Hey, no birth control is a hundred per cent effective, even if you use it exactly as directed. If you've had an illness or are stressed or just lose out to nature being willful. It doesn't mean you did something wrong. It doesn't even mean your boyfriend did something wrong." I knew that she was likely aware of that, but I also suspected that she needed to hear it.

Margo nodded. "In my head, I know all that. But…"

"Yeah," I said. "I get it. It's not the same or anything, but… not quite two years ago – it'll be two years in February – I was raped. And I knew before it happened that it wasn't my fault, that I hadn't done anything to deserve it, but at the same time I felt so guilty. It took me weeks to get to a place where I felt like myself again, and I still have nightmares and flashbacks sometimes."

Margo reached across the table and touched my hand, and I met hers halfway. "I'm sorry that happened to you," she said. "Thank you for sharing."

"It's okay," I told her. "I mean I'm okay. But… you're not. So… first, are you sure? Have you taken a test?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. But I'm a week late, and I'm never late." Biocontrol didn't stop periods the way the injections did.

"Have you told your boyfriend?"

She snorted. "Which boyfriend? The guy on Mars who broke up with me after he'd been there for two days? The guy on the first floor who convinced me to do belly shots the first week of school? How about the guy I went out with last night, who only bought dinner because he knew I'd put out?" She took a breath. "I called my father."

"Was he supportive?"

"He thinks I'm worrying too soon. He said I should get tested and then we can decide what to do. I think he's disappointed in me. But Zoe, I already know… I don't want a baby. Not now."

"Okay, then, I think the best thing to do is get you tested. The med clinic is open til eight. If you can wait long enough for me to finish, I'll go with you."

"You don't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered it I minded," I pointed out. "Besides, you shouldn't have to be alone."

"See," she said. "This is why I chose you. You're the same age as us, but you handle things differently."

"Do I?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. You do."

"If you say so."

I scarfed down my soup and sandwich and took my coffee with me. The medical clinic wasn't busy, only a fifteen-minute wait, the receptionist said. We found chairs in a quieter part of the room and pretended to watch the news feeds on the bank of monitors.

"Robeson, Margo?" A nurse came out of the examination area.

Margo stood up. "Zoe, you don't – " she began, but I cut her off.

"I'll go with you if you want." I knew she wouldn't ask, that she had been about to tell me I didn't have to wait.

"Thank you," she said. "I'd like that."

Together we followed the nurse through double doors and into an exam room. I took Margo's coat and book bag and piled them on one of the two chairs in the room. The other, I sat in.

The nurse asked her a ton of questions, and my suitemate answered them in a shaky voice. "The doctor will be in shortly," the nurse said. "She'll run a scan and tell you what's what." Then she broke out of her professional demeanor. "Listen, sweetie. These things happen to everyone. Birth control isn't perfect. Don't judge yourself. You'll be fine." She patted Margo's hand, and left the room.

Margo glanced over at me. "You're an actress, yeah? So, you know how you're supposed to use experiences in your art?"

"Well, some people believe that," I hedged.

"Think I can use this to enhance my experience as an Econ major?"

We both burst out laughing at the thought.

The rest of the appointment went quickly. The doctor, an older woman with a New England accent so strong it was almost a caricature, came in and introduced herself. "I'm Jeannie Brown. You can call me Jeannie or Doc Brown, whatever you like. How are you feeling? Nervous?"

Margo nodded.

"Understandable. Smart you came in as soon as you suspected though. Don't worry. Nothing we do today will be invasive." She did a quick scan with a medical tricorder. Then she repeated the scan with a full body diagnostic device a lot like the bio-beds on the Enterprise except that it pulled down from the ceiling. Finally, she asked Margo to lift her shirt and palpated the younger woman's belly, explaining, "Technology is fantastic, but nothing beats warm hands."

She stood back, and let Margo have a moment to adjust herself. The blonde woman sat up on the bed, and asked, "So… am I…?"

"Pregnant?" Doc Jones asked. "Yes. You are."

"I don't want it," Margo said.

"That's a normal reaction," the doctor assured her. She pulled a padd out of the pocket of her lab coat. "I'm sending some information to your school account. It's a list of clinics that can do termination procedures, should you go forward with that plan, and a list of support resources for whatever you decide. Take a few days. Think about what you want. If your partner – " she glanced at me, and Margo interrupted her.

"Zoe's my suitemate, and my friend. I don't… there isn't a partner in the picture."

"I'm sorry. Things like this are easier with support."

"She has support," I said. "Just not a romantic partner."

"Good for you," the doctor commented. To Margo, she added, "Friends are important, too. And family. We don't report to your parents – we're not allowed to, except in life-threatening situations – but if you need help talking to your family, we have counselors."

"Thanks," Margo said. "If I want to… to terminate?"

"Call here, and we'll make a clinic appointment for you, and send an advocate with you."

"Got it."

I wasn't sure if Margo's terse responses were a reaction to her situation, or just her own personality, and it wasn't the time to ask. The doctor had Margo provide a thumbprint, and then said, "No matter what you decide, we're here to help. Go home. Have dinner. Get some rest. If you need an excuse to skip classes for the rest of the week, I'll send that along to your account as well. Be good to yourself."

"I'll do that," Margo said. "Thank you."

The doctor nodded and left the room, heading to her next patient.

"Well," she said, "that was only entirely mortifying."

"At least you didn't have to strip or put your feet in stirrups for a physical exam," I pointed out.

"Okay, that would have increased the mortification factor by a thousand."

I handed the blonde woman her coat and waited while she put it on, then handed over her bookbag and stood to put my own coat back on. "Are you up to dinner? Because if not, I'm happy to curl up on the couch with you and eat a ton of Chinese take-out."

"I'll take a rain-check on the Chinese, but if you could have a to-go tray made up, I'll love you forever," Margo said. "I need some alone time, I think."

"Yeah. I would, too."

We walked back to our dorm in silence, but when we got there, Margo pulled me into a brief hug. "Thank you," she said, "for being there for me."

"We're roommates," I said, abandoning the term 'suitemate.' "We don't have to all be best friends forever, but we absolutely have to support each other when we can."

"Yes," she said. "That exactly."

Margo disappeared into her room and I went to the Commons to grab dinner since I already had my coat on. I ran into Anjali in line, and she commented, "I heard you practicing the other day. I didn't want to interrupt, but… it made me want to sculpt what you were playing."

"Aww, that's sweet. I love the piece you've got in our common room. The abstract?"

"It's supposed to be a representation of the aurora borealis," she said. "From art camp last year. You think it's good?"

"I do. I love the way it seems to shimmer as you view it from different angles."

"Thank you! I was trying so hard for that effect."

We spent the rest of dinner talking about art and music, and the way they informed each other.

(=A=)

Stardate 46807.78
(Wednesday, 22 October 2369, 8:12 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth.

One of the cool things about the residential college system is that almost all the colleges have underground spaces. Davenport shares some of it's Underground with Pierson – specifically music practice rooms and the gym, but each college has its own buttery (ours is The Dive), a late-night snack-bar that is run solely by students, a kitchen, a media entertainment room, the game room, art rooms, and even a book bindery and printing press.

That night after having dinner in Davenport's dining hall, Chuni and I entered the Underground with our instruments and made our way to the auditorium, a 72-seat performance space that the orchestra used for practice.

Rather than the entire orchestra, auditions took place with just each section leader. We watched as the other prospective members played their solo pieces and then joined the existing members in sight-reading a piece arranged for either chamber ensembles or symphonies.

"Lots of good talent here," Chuni observed as the third violinist to audition played the piece she'd been rehearsing. "Crap! We have the same song."

"No two musicians interpret a song the same way, though. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Maybe I should change my piece?"

"Only if you have a solo you're equally comfortable with."

We'd been practicing together since Chuni had convinced me to try out, the week before. Sometimes, we played together, which was difficult for me, because she didn't have Data's super-android sense of pitch – I'd been spoiled by playing with my partner – but helped us both in the end. Sometimes we'd just played our solos for each other. Since Davenport was known for doing classical versions of contemporary songs, I'd decided to play the Debussy Clair De Lune that I loved, while Chuni was doing a Bach minuet that had been mixed and remixed into a pop tune many times over the centuries.

"Chuni Rodriguez, you're up."

Chuni took her spot in the center of the low stage, introduced her choice of music, and began to play. I knew that she'd been thrown by the previous player using the same piece of music, but while he'd played it pretty straight, my friend added attitude to her performance – attacking each section with gusto, and letting a saucy grin spread across her face.

She joined the section leaders for her sight-reading, and then, breathless, came back to sit with me. "Well?"

"You nailed it," I said.

One of the seniors running the auditions – not Erica, an affable man named Drake – stood up and announced, "Violinists, your auditions are complete. Cellists, we'll begin with a group warm up, and then Zoe Harris will be first to play. We'll start in fifteen minutes."

"Good luck," Chuni said.

The warmup was brief, just enough to make sure we were all in tune and had a chance to feel the acoustics of the room. There were dead corners, I noticed, and when the bulk of the group left me on the stage, I made a point of adjusting my seat slightly, so I wouldn't be playing to those sections of the room.

There are musicians who played the same pieces essentially the same way in every performance. Data, of course, did that by default. It was part of who – and what – he was. I, on the other hand, tended to infuse my solo pieces with whatever I was feeling at that moment. That evening I was feeling wistful because I missed sharing music with my boyfriend, and a little bit lonely. The conversation we'd had a week before was still resonating in my head, and also, the fact that we hadn't spoken in real-time since then.

As well, I'd finally had time to watch the recording of his performance as Will Riker's psychiatrist over the weekend, and my reaction to it had not been pleasant.

Oh, he'd done an amazing job, but some of his expressions had strayed too far toward Lore's demeanor for me. Even though the two Soong androids were meant to be identical, I'd always thought Data's face was slightly softer, slightly rounder. In his costume, and with stage makeup accenting his eyes, that softness was missing, and the effect had left me unsettled.

I'd left him a message to that effect, and he'd responded assuring me that it was just a performance (which I knew) and that he had not meant to upset me. We hadn't managed to connect because Will had gone missing on Tilonus Four, and I still didn't know if he'd been found.

I knew the people listening to me play couldn't hear all the thoughts swirling in my head, but I also knew that my performance was a moody, slightly mournful one.

"Wow," Drake observed when I was done. "Wow."

I didn't know the older student well enough to read him. "Is that a good 'wow' or a bad 'wow?'"

"Good, Zoe. Definitely good. We're going to put you in a quartet now, if that's cool?" He gave me the same speech that everyone else had heard. "We have several small ensembles that rehearse alternate music, though those people join the full orchestra for rehearsals and concerts. If you're asked to join an ensemble, are you willing to spend the extra time?"

I thought about the promise I'd made to Data – to ensure that I had creative outlets. "Yes," I confirmed.

"Super. Let's play." He took the viola part and the first and second violin section leaders joined us for the sight-reading test.

I scanned the music for a moment, grinning when I recognized it as a song I'd played two summers before in San Francisco, "I know this one," I said. "It might not be fair."

"You've played it before?"

"As a solo, not in a quartet."

"You'll find the cello part isn't quite as fun in this version, then."

"Hey, as long as it's not Pachelbel, I'm cool."

Drake and the others all laughed. Erica was the second violinist, but I hadn't learned the other player's name. Roger, I thought, or Robin. Something with an R.

"Ready?" Erica asked?

"Let's do it."

As we played the piece, I felt a settling in myself that I hadn't experienced since my arrival at Yale. It was something like the 'meshy-ness' I'd tried to explain to Data during my first theory lesson with him, but not as deep.

At the end of the piece, I was grinning with the sheer pleasure of playing music with other people again.

"Thank you," I said, as our final notes died away. "I've missed this."

"You've played in a quartet before?"

"At Suzuki a couple of summers ago, and on the Ent – um, at home. My boyfriend and I were in a quartet together."

"Good to know. Thanks Zoe." I took my cello up to where Chuni was waiting and smiled at her as I zipped it back into its gig bag. "Well, that was fun."

"You're so in," you said. "I knew you were good from practicing together all week, and from hearing you play in your room, but… seriously Zoe, why are you here and not at Julliard or The Martian?"

Quietly, because other cellists were still playing, I shared, "I auditioned for The Martian. Dad went there; I'm a legacy. And they even offered me a place, but…"

"But what?"

"They cautioned me that I shouldn't take it unless I was certain I wanted to do nothing but music. They could tell I had good technique, but they could also tell I wasn't as invested as a serious music student should be. And more… I want a broader education that a music conservatory can offer. I'm not the type to join Starfleet, but my partner is a line officer, and may command his own ship someday, so being able to mix with his colleagues is important. And yeah, I could do that if I were just an actress or just a musician, but I've always been fascinated by politics. My program gives me both – performance and the politics of social justice. I can't get that at The Martian."

"Wow," Chuni said. "You've got everything planned out."

"Well, maybe not everything. But… you're as good as I am. Why aren't you at a conservatory?"

"I'm pre-med," she said. "My mother's a doctor. My grandmother is a doctor. I think I've wanted to be one since I was in the womb. Besides, I enjoy playing, but I think if it was my job, I'd come to dread it."

"I get that," I said. "I totally get that."

We stayed until the end of the cello auditions, then went down to the Dive to grab nachos and sodas and just hang out for a while. We got back to the dorm around twelve-thirty in the morning, but we were on break, so we didn't have to set alarms or anything.

(=A=)

Stardate 46812.05
(Friday, 24 October 2369, 9:33 AM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

Pounding. Pounding on my door. That's what I woke up to on Friday morning. "Zoe, get up," I heard Chuni calling me. "Breakfast ends in less than half an hour."

This was the problem with not setting alarms just because there were no classes.

"I'm up," I called. "Let me throw clothes on."

I'd gone to bed in one of the Starfleet Academy t-shirts I'd purloined from Data. In the interest of speed, I shrugged my arms out of the shoulders, put on a bra, and put the shirt back on correctly. I added jeans and fleece-lined boots (no socks required) and grabbed a hair band. I'd stick my hair in a bun on the way.

Outside my door, I found all of my roommates. Chuni had a gleam in her eye that told me she was excited about something, while Margo looked pale and exhausted. Anjali… Anjali always looked fresh and well put together. If she hadn't been such a nice person and a good friend, it would have been really annoying.

"Come on," Chuni urged. "I'm hungry."

"You could've just let me sleep til lunch," I pointed out.

"Nope. This is a celebration breakfast."

"It is? Is it your birthday?" I had no clue what we were meant to be celebrating. "I need coffee."

"No, silly. We're celebrating you and me getting into the orchestra."

I stopped walking. "We did?"

"We did! Both of us. The message came this morning."

"That's awesome!" I said. "Stellar, even."

"I had no doubt you'd get in," Chuni said, babbling happily. "But I wasn't sure I would. I've missed playing in a group."

I glanced at Margo, who was walking next to me. "You okay?" I mouthed to her. She shrugged and made a so-so gesture with her hand. I nodded, and then hurried to catch up with Chuni and Anjali. "There was never a chance they wouldn't take you, when you were so unflustered even after someone else played your solo."

We made it into the Commons before the cut-off time and lingered over breakfast until the cleaning staff gave up on subtlety and asked us to vacate, but as happy as I was to get into the orchestra, I was worried about Margo.

(=A=)

The rest of our break was fairly low-key. There was a party in our residence hall on Friday night, hosted by the second-floor women. I went to that, and danced with a couple of my classmates, but just dancing. On Saturday morning, Chuni and I had our first rehearsal and first post-rehearsal brunch with the orchestra. After semester break, they said, they'd be holding challenges for chair placement. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go for first chair or not, but it was something to think about.

Saturday evening, Anjali and Chuni went to a poetry reading that had been strongly recommended by the professor of a class they were both taking. Marco and Fallon had invited me to join them at New Moon for 'drama geek hijinks,' but I felt obligated to check on Margo first.

It was about six at night when I knocked on her door, and at first, I assumed she was going to ignore me, but after long pause, she invited me in.

Her room was dark, with only monitor glow supplying any kind of illumination, but I found my way to the bed where she was curled up on top of the covers. "I'd ask how you're doing," I said, "but I think I can guess the answer. So instead, I'm going to ask if you want to come out to a pub and watch a bunch of theatre majors make asses of themselves. If nothing else, it might make you laugh."

She was quiet for a full minute, but then she sat up. "I guess it's better than lying in the dark feeling sorry for myself."

"Plus, there are cheesy fries," I pointed out.

"Well, who can say no to the healing powers of cheesy fries." She reached over and hit the button to turn on her bedside lamp. "Give me fifteen minutes?"

"I'll let Marco and Fallon know we're coming them." I said, in response.

(=A=)

Stardate 46815.93
(Saturday, 25 October 2369, 7:33 PM, local time)
The New Moon Pub, New Haven, CT, Earth

Fallon and Marco had waited for Margo and me to join them, so we all arrived at The New Moon together, and it was jumping! The crowd I'd met before had commandeered the big round table in the center of the room, and most of them had padds out in front of them.

Jordan was in the center of the group and was reading something aloud. As we got closer, the general din resolved into distinct voices and I realized what he was saying:

"That will ask some tears in the true performing of
it: if I do it, let the audience look to their
eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some
measure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a
tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to
tear a cat in, to make all split.
The raging rocks
And shivering shocks
Shall break the locks
Of prison gates;
And Phibbus' car
Shall shine from far
And make and mar
The foolish Fates.
This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players.
This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is
more condoling."

"He's playing Bottom?" I whispered to Marco.

"Yeah, it's a Saturday night ritual around here. Pick-up Shakespeare."

"What's that?" my roommate, the econ major, demanded.

"Oh, you'll love it. Whoever gets here first picks a play – usually Shakespeare – "

" – hence the name – " I added.

"Right. But not always. And then people play whatever part comes up next, clockwise, in order of seating."

"Oh, cool!"

"Maybe I shouldn't stay," Margo said.

"Why not?" Fallon asked.

"I'm not a drama major."

"Doesn't matter," Marco said. "If you can read, you qualify. Granted, people who aren't used to Shakespeare…." But he interrupted himself as a trio of blond men in black turtlenecks vacated three chairs. "That's Hat Trick," the sophomore explained. "They're an improv group. Probably have a gig tonight. Come on, Zoe, if we get those seats, we can nab Fairy and Puck in Act II."

I let my exuberant friend drag me to sit to the left of Jordan. Fallon took the third chair and Margo settled into a free spot farther away. The woman sitting next to her introduced herself, but I didn't hear the name.

The four of us ordered food while Jordan (as Bottom) and DJ (as Quince) continued their scene.

DJ said, "Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and
then you will play bare-faced. But, masters, here
are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request
you and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night;
and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the
town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse, for if
we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with
company, and our devices known. In the meantime I
will draw a bill of properties, such as our play
wants. I pray you, fail me not."

To which Jordan responded, "We will meet; and there we may rehearse most
obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect: adieu."

DJ's answer came almost immediately: "At the duke's oak we meet."

And Jordan uttered the final line of Act I: "Enough; hold or cut bow-strings."

I hadn't expected anyone to be reading the stage directions, but the woman next to Margo uttered the word, "Exeunt." And then glanced around the table. "New people, fantastic. Margo here is going to take over from me on stage directions…"

It turned out that her name was Cora and she was a dual major in theatre and business, intending to go into theatrical management after graduation. She knew Marco, but Fallon and I didn't know her, so we introduced ourselves and when our meals arrived, Cora bought a round of beer for everyone who was legal (synthehol for those of us who weren't).

We toasted to Act II, and Marco nudged me to start, after Margo gave us the setting.

"But Puck is male," I argued.

"Doesn't matter. It's strictly by order of seating."

"Well, cool.," I said, and then opened Act II with Puck's line: "How now, spirit! whither wander you?"

This, of course, meant that Marco was reading the first Fairy, and to say he was enjoying himself a little would be like describing Lieutenant Worf as 'slightly intimidating.' Translation: if there had been scenery to chew, this guy would never need to eat another meal.

"Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:
Our queen and all our elves come here anon."

As the evening wore on, we took turns buying drinks for each other, we spent a small fortune on snacks – I hadn't been kidding about the awesomeness of the cheesy fries – we laughed at each other's readings and we pretty much butchered Shakespeare's play. But it didn't matter, we were all having fun, and the fact that the group kept shifting only added to it.

Jordan, Margo, Cora, Steve, and I were the last to finally leave, and even then, it was only because the staff was kicking us out. "We love you Elis," the bartender said. "But we love having our own lives even more."

(=A=)

Stardate 46819.05
(Sunday, 26 October 2369, 10:54 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

My hair was still damp from a shower when I sat at my computer console to catch up on a weekend's worth of messages. I had a note from Mom wishing me well on midterms, and another from Counselor Troi just checking in. I sent brief text messages back to both.

A message from Dana, who was at school in Rhode Island, deserved a return call but I wasn't certain of her schedule, so I sent a note asking when would be good. Ditto with the message from Annette who was studying in Scotland. I hadn't been very good about keeping in touch with my former classmates – my friends - from the Enterprise, but then, neither had they.

After reviewing the schedule for mid-terms, I had a better idea of how my own week would look. Each class would only meet once during the week, and exams would be during the scheduled class period. It wasn't the completely separate schedule we'd have for finals, but it was still enough of a change that I made sure to set reminders for myself.

Next came a reminder from Gavin to decorate our doors and have candy ready for local kids to trick-or-treat through the dorms on Friday afternoon – it would be my first Halloween on Earth, and I was excited about getting to celebrate – and an invitation from Jordan to attend the annual Halloween costume party at the New Moon, and then parade to the Grove Street Cemetery at midnight for a flashlight tour. A party that ended in a graveyard sounded too perfect to miss, but I only had five days to figure out a costume.

Just before midnight, I initiated a subspace call to the Enterprise, and was greeted by Laura Gilbert's friendly smile. "Zoe, hi! How's Earth? Are you loving college?"

"Earth is good. College is… good. You're doing a communications rotation?"

"More than," she said. "I'm a communications specialist now. I take my lieutenant's exam after the first of the year."

"That's wonderful!" I said. I meant it. Laura was a lovely person and deserved to succeed.

"I'm nervous," she admitted, "but I have lots of time to study and gain practical experience." She grinned. "But you didn't call to talk to me. I'll put you through to Commander Data, now."

"Thanks, Laura," I said. "And I don't mind chatting with you, ever." In truth, it was typical to exchange pleasantries and sometimes have brief conversations with comm officers when you made calls. Cultivating relationships with them was incredibly helpful, but it was also an unofficial channel for news and gossip.

It was another few minutes before Data's face replaced the ensign's on my screen, but soon enough I was looking into his warm yellow eyes. "Hi," I said.

"Zoe, I was not certain you would call."

"I'd never miss finishing the week by talking to you," I said. "I'm sorry I've been so terse lately. It's been a weird week. Roommate stuff. Creative stuff. I auditioned for the Davenport College orchestra, by the way."

"I am glad you are pursuing your creative interests. Did you get accepted?"

"I did. So did Chuni. It was actually her idea to try out."

"Ah."

"Ah? Why does that rate an 'ah?'"

"Do you wish me to be frank with you?"

"Always," I said."

"It is unlike you to be a 'follower.' Typically, you are leading your friends in their entertainment."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"I guess being here has thrown me more than I thought. I feel… I feel like I still don't fit. Not really. Like I'm a thousand years older than everyone here. I think… I wonder if I've made a mistake?"

"In continuing your education? I do not believe so. You enjoy learning, and a degree will only add to your opportunities."

"No, I know that. I just meant… I could have accepted one of the gigs Bernie offered and chosen an educational plan that didn't require residency."

"You are correct that you could have chosen that path, but in our many discussions, you never gave it serious consideration. I believe your 'homesickness' is coloring your perceptions."

"Wouldn't you prefer it if I were home?"

"But you would not be; you would be working at an unknown location, and when that 'gig' ended you would be relocating again. I miss you Zoe, as I have told you, but knowing that you are 'safe and sound' on campus helps reduce the distraction of your absence."

"That's possibly very sweet."

"Possibly?" He seemed skeptical.

I laughed and amended, "Definitely. And I miss you horribly, too, but you know that."

"Yes, I am aware." He paused, and I waited for him to change directions. "How was the rest of your break?"

"Interesting," I said. "I went to a party, danced a little – mostly in a group – not a raucous party. And last night Margo and I joined the drama gang at The New Moon for pickup Shakespeare. I ended up reading Puck."

"Then, it was genderblind casting?"

"It was read-the-part-that-comes-when-it-gets-to-your-chair casting. And then you keep that part until you get bored and leave. We arrived just before the beginning of Act Two. Did I tell you about the pub? I'd love for you to see it. It's a proper pub – old brick, roaring fire – the walls are covered with photos of former Yale students on stage and screen. And the cheese fries are positively divine!"

"I look forward to experiencing it with you next month," Data said.

"You'll appreciate it," I said. He asked for more details about the Shakespeare and I provided them, and then I realized that when he'd said 'next month' his visit was almost exactly a month away. "Only four more weeks of class before I see you. We get the entire week of Thanksgiving off. Do you know how much of my vacation you'll be here for?"

"I cannot be certain, but I believe I will be able to spend most of the week with you. We will be able to plan more specifically in a week or two."

"Alright, I'll try to hold out. Just knowing when you're coming will help. So, Halloween is coming. Have you ever been part of a costume party?"

"I have not. Will you be participating in any festivities?"

"Yeah, actually. The residence halls host trick-or-treating for local kids – we decorate our doors, and they get escorted through for a few hours in the afternoon. And then that night there's a costume party at the pub and a tour of the local cemetery. I got the invitation tonight… but it hadn't occurred to me to create a costume, so now I have to do that while juggling mid-terms." It was my turn to pause and change tacks. "I'm a little nervous about Whiskers' class. I'm doing okay grade-wise, but my last paper only got a C. He said I was diverging from the scope of the questions."

"Are you still finding that the material discussed in class is at odds with what you know of me?"

I nodded. But then I clarified: "Not so much 'at odds' as… it doesn't go far enough. I'm back to that intelligence versus sentience confusion. Well, not 'back to.' That's never really been resolved."

"If you wish to send me a copy of your text, I may be able to assist in your studies."

"If only I'd asked you sooner. But that exam is tomorrow. Let me see how I do, and I might take you up on your offer between now and finals. If you don't mind, I'll send you that last paper, though?"

"I believe we have a deal," he said, a faint smile curving his lips upward. "Zoe, I am hesitant to usher you away, because I enjoy our real-time conversations, but it is late, and you do have an examination tomorrow. You will do better if you're well-rested."

"True," I agreed. "But I needed the face-time with you, even more than I need sleep. If you have any brilliant costume ideas – brilliant and warm, it gets down to zero degrees at night this time of year – let me know?"

"Certainly, though you may wish to send a message to Dr. Crusher."

"Ask her for me, if you have a moment?"

"Gladly."

"Thank you. You're awesome. I love you."

"And I am devoted to you. Good night, dearest."

I grinned at him as we matched hands on the screen. "One more month." I said. "G'night, Data." After the connection closed, I actually bounced back to my bed singing "Four more weeks, four more weeks," under my breath.

(=A=)

Stardate 46832.00
(Friday, 31 October 2369, 4:23 PM, local time)
Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth

"Chuni, do you swear this will wash out in the morning?"

"Cross my heart," my roommate said, wielding a hair coloring wand. "And if it doesn't, I'll pay for color correction, okay?" She was teasing me, I knew.

"Do it," I said. The four of us had decorated our door to look like a crypt and had spent the time after our last mid-terms carving pumpkins to set up on our mantle. Neither Chuni nor I had never done the jack-o-lantern thing, but we'd enjoyed the process immensely, and if my pumpkin looked a bit like Lt. Worf, who could blame me?

Chuni activated the wand and I watched in the bathroom mirror as my hair turned from chestnut brown to hot pink. "Wow," I said.

"'Wow' is right" my friend responded. She'd recently re-purpled her own hair. "Zoe, I know you're only doing this for Halloween, but you look seriously hot."

"Do I?" I wrinkled my nose. "It's… different," I said. "And I like it, but…"

"But you're dating an officer and pink hair and Starfleet are unmixy things?"

"Pretty much," I said. "Pretty much exactly."

The other woman stepped back and surveyed her work. "Make-up next?"

I looked down at the outfit my roommates had helped me assemble, a reproduction of the costume of one of the background dancers in my Uncle Zane's latest music video: a black tank top and ripped jeans over purple tights, a black and plaid purple flannel shirt, and of course, my trusty purple combat boots. We'd gone with pink for my hair because the other women thought it suited my coloring better. The final piece of the puzzle was glittery neo-goth rock-star make-up. "Yep."

Chuni's costume was a furry cat. Like me, she'd never really experienced the change of seasons as they were on Earth. Also like me, she'd gone for warm rather than sexy. Anjali had turned herself into a winter fairy, which basically involved a lot of gauze and tulle layered over a silver jumpsuit, with foil wings attached. We'd added silver to some of her hair, and done her make-up as well, and Margo had gone sexy, wearing her old school uniform with the skirt taped up shorter and the blouse tied below her breasts. We made her bring a coat, but she was refusing to concede that the weather might be cold later.

I heard the main door open and the giggling voices of little kids, then it closed again. Putting the final touch on my make-up – metallic hot-pink lipstick – I asked, "Well, can I be in a Zeta-Bytes vid?"

"You look stellar," she replied. Let's go join the others." And she hoisted her fake tail over her shoulder and left the bathroom.

We took turns answering the door for the next hour or so. Trick-or-treating was supposed to be over by six, and the dining halls were staying open til eight to accommodate anyone who had participated.

At seven-fifteen, long after even the last stragglers had left the dorms, there was a knock at the door. "Happy Halloween," I greeted as I opened it, expecting that it was either one of our friends come to join us for dinner, or a stray kid out past the end of the event.

Instead I was greeted with an empty hallway, and a box. I picked it up, noticed that it had been addressed to me, and brought in inside.

"Zoe, did you get a Halloween package from Data?" Anjali asked. "That's so sweet."

"He is sweet, but I don't think this is from…" I trailed off, because I knew – I knew – where the box had come from. I knew because it had been too long since the last gift from this person. "Oh, god…"

"Zoe, what's wrong?" It was Margo who came to wrap her arms around my shoulders and guide me to our couch. "Girl, you're paler than I am."

"I think it's from…" …from the man who raped me, I didn't say. "I mean, it's hard to explain."

"Let's open it before we freak out," Chuni said.

"Yeah." I reached for the box, and the mag strips responded to my thumbprint and sprang open. Inside was another box wrapped in pale silver paper and tied with the black ribbons I'd become accustomed to seeing. I pulled that out. "Chuni, you're pre-med. Have they handed out tricorders yet?" I asked, only partly to lighten the mood.

"Oh, if only…"

I slid the ribbon off and peeled open the paper. A real present, I'd have ripped, but Data had taught me to be more cautious with Lore's deliveries. Inside was a box of the type that typically held clothing, except it was deeper. But not quite as deep as a hat.

I lifted the lid and pulled away more silver paper. Nestled inside was a mask. Impeccably made, with purple, black, and gray feathers, and a glossy beak, it would have been beautiful if it had come from any other source.

"Zoe, that's amazing! If it's not from Data, who's it from?" Margo reached around me and grabbed the card then read it aloud. "'Ill met by moonlight, but this bird is meeting you on a night with no moon. Wear it in good health, Pigeon."

"Pigeon?" The cool blonde gave me an appraising look. "Dressed like that, you're more of a peacock, but even on your sloppiest day, you're no pigeon."

"Pigeon is what he calls me," I said. "Can one of you call campus security and one of the FroCos – Gavin, preferably, I know him best – I have to call Data."

"About a mask?" Chuni was confused. "I mean, okay, I get that you didn't really ask for it, but…"

But Margo understood. "It's from him, isn't it? The man who raped you?"

I nodded. "His name is Lore. He's Data's… well, they call each other brothers, but really, they were created by the same cyberneticist. Lore came first, and had… issues… so he was deactivated, but when the Enterprise visited their home planet several years ago, they found him and… brought him back. A few years after that, we were on a starbase, and Data and I had had a fight, and I followed someone I thought was Data, but it turned out to be Lore. He sort of… latched onto me because I was important to Data, but things escalated the Valentine's Day before last." I kept talking, explaining about Lore and Melona and all that had happened, "… and since then he's called me 'Pigeon' and he's been sending me pigeon-themed gifts. Always handmade. Always amazingly crafted and equally creepy because they're from him."

By the time I got to end of my story, Anjali and Margo were flanking me on the couch and Chuni was on the comm system with Gavin, requesting that he come with campus security and Bright-Star. "Zoe, how do I contact your boyfriend?"

"You can't from the common system." One of the concessions I had asked Yale for, and that SOAR had assisted with, was a comm-system that would handle Starfleet channels. "I'll call him after Bright-Star is here."

"But you'll show us how, in case we ever have to?" she demanded.

"I should have done that weeks ago," I admitted.

Ten minutes later, our common room was crowded with people – Gavin, Bright-Star, Whiskers, and two campus security officers all listened as I explained why I was raising an alarm, and who the package had come from.

"And now I know why Commander Data asked me to watch out for you," Whiskers said when I'd finished the tale for the second time that evening. He'd come because Gavin had interrupted Whiskers and Bright-Star at dinner.

Yale security officers didn't carry weapons, but they did have tricorders. "We mostly use these for blood alcohol checks on underage students," the taller of the two – who said her name was Becca – explained as she recalibrated it to collect all sorts of data about the pigeon mask. "As stalkers go, at least yours isn't violent."

"Not now," I said.

"I'm sorry, I spoke without thinking," she said. "Bert, what do you think about this?"

"It's Roberto," he corrected for what was obviously not the first time. "And I think we need to scan the shipping and tracking info and see if we can find where it was originated." He turned to me, "You should call your friend in Starfleet now."

"Boyfriend," Margo, Anjali, Chuni and I all said at the same time.

"Boyfriend," he amended. "Call him."

I went into my room with Becca and Bright-Star and placed the call.

"Zoe," Data said, after the link was made, "that is an interesting look. I believe I am meant to wish you, 'Happy Halloween.'"

In all the commotion, I'd forgotten I was wearing a costume. "Thank you," I said, "but this isn't a social call."

If he had hackles, they'd have risen. Instead, he was instantly in officer mode, though he did ask, "Dearest?"

"I received a gift from Lore today. A mask. A pigeon mask. It's gorgeous. And horrible." I'd been calm until I'd seen his face. Now I was fighting tears. "I was supposed to be safe here. But I'm not. I'm not safe anywhere, am I?"

"Zoe, please calm down."

I felt Bright-Star's tail wrap around my waist as she bent to put her head in frame. "Data, there doesn't seem to be any physical danger. Zoe is understandably… jarred. Whiskers is here, too, if you'd prefer to speak with him?"

"Thank you, Bright-Star, that will not be necessary. Does anyone have access to a scientific tricorder?"

"Sir?" Becca stepped forward. "Becca Semrau, campus security. We've scanned the box, the mask, and the tracking info… we can transmit to you if you'd like?"

"Please do," Data said. "Though I suspect you will find a chain of mailstops that lead nowhere."

Becca connected the tricorder to my comm system and sent the information to Data, who acknowledged it. She also provided her contact information so that he could speak with security directly, instead of going through me.

"What should we do with the mask?" she asked.

"If you have determined that it is not a threat, and your data implies that it is not, and Zoe has a place to store it, she should. If not, perhaps security can store it. Unfortunately, I cannot be there sooner than the last week of November, but I am alerting the local Starfleet security station."

I saw his fingers flying as he spoke, and I knew he could multitask, but I waited for him to pause, anyway. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe."

"His gifts are escalating in scale. A toy, a brooch, taxidermy, now this. I feel like he's leading up to something… something big."

"I concur, but the tracking information I see does not indicate an origin point on Earth. I will follow up here."

"And in the meantime? Am I confined to my dorm?"

"I would suggest that if you go out tonight, you do not go alone, but I do not believe you are in danger."

"Data… his note… it included a line from A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"And you are concerned that because that is the play from last weekend's 'pick-up Shakespeare' he has been watching you? It is conceivable. You are a public figure, despite keeping a low profile this semester. However, Lore has demonstrated his familiarity with Shakespeare before, with a gift showing up on the Ides of March. In this case, I believe it is merely coincidence, or an homage to the Terran holiday."

"I hope you're right," I said." And then I forced a smile. "Thank you. I'm going to let you go now."

"Actually, Zoe, may I speak with Data a moment? Alone?" Bright-Star was my dean, as well as the partner of one of his friends. I knew if she was asking to speak with him privately, it was well meant.

"Sure," I said. "Just close the channel when you're done?" I vacated my chair, so she could have it. "Love you," I said to Data.

"I love you, also," he replied. Then he focused on the felinoid sitting in my chair.

Returning to the common room with Becca, I found everyone waiting for me, though Anjali had repacked the mask.

"Sorry about all this," I said. "The last time he sent something I was doing a play on Winter, and we took it to the police. Data says that has to be the protocol, even though the gifts have all been benign, so far."

"He's right," my friends chorused.

"Zoe, Roberto and I are going to leave now, but you call us if you need an escort anywhere, okay?" Becca changed her stance and included all of my roommates. "That goes for all of you."

She and the other agent left, and Whiskers prowled (literally) around our common room looking at the art and knickknacks we'd arranged. Pausing in front of the fireplace, and the Mondrian print that hung above it, he called me to his side. "If I were to hazard a guess," he said keeping his voice to a low purr, "I'd say this was a gift from Data."

"Because it looks like the inside of his head?" I asked, also quietly.

"Does it?" he asked, surprised.

"Not precisely, but if you were going to draw a subway-style map of his head, it would be pretty close," I said softly. "I mean… that's what it looks like to me."

"You've seen inside?"

I hesitated. "The second time I met Lore, he pierced my tongue with a data-solid," I told my professor. "We had to kiss in order to release it – Data tried just using saliva on a swab, but it didn't work, and I kind of got impatient."

"And you wanted to know if there was a difference?"

"Yeah. That too."

"So, part of the reason you're struggling in my class is that you're having still difficulty separating theory from acquired knowledge gained through personal experience?"

"I thought you knew that already?"

"I did, and I didn't. Zoe… you should know that your mid-term score was an eight-six. That's a solid B. But your class work isn't supporting your test scores. I'd ask you to see me during office hours next week, but I'm going to remind you that we've invited you to dinner before. If you're feeling up to it after tonight, join us tomorrow? Bright-Star will give you some much-needed coddling, and I think you and I can figure out a way to apply what you've learned from Data to what I'm trying to teach."

"You'd do that?"

"I'd do it for any student who is bright and intellectually curious, Zoe. But you're also a friend, and that means I'm a little more invested in helping you succeed."

"If you weren't my professor, I'd hug you!" It came out louder than expected, and everyone turned to look at us.

"Everything okay over there?" Chuni asked

"Sorry guys," I said. "We're being rude."

"And we have held you up too long," Bright-Star emerged from my room. "I've told Data we'd be watching over you," she shared. "And coddling you a bit. We'd do the same for any student in distress. He asked me to suggest that you wear your comm-badge from now on."

I nodded. If I wore it and something happened to me, it would be a way to track me. "I'll grab it before we head to the pub," I promised.

"Speaking of," Gavin said. "I wasn't going to go but I think you should have an escort who isn't in costume tonight. Do you mind?"

He'd been so quiet, that I'd forgotten he was there. "I think it'd make my partner very happy, thank you," I said. "Halloween not your thing?"

"No, I…" he shrugged. "I've heard all your drama tonight. Mine's way simpler. Hannah dumped me."

The light dawned. "And she's working the party tonight."

"I can help with that," Margo said. "Tonight, I'm your date. We'll watch over our Zoe together."

I was grateful to all of them, but especially to Margo, who, I knew, was still processing her own 'drama.'

"Deal," Gavin said.

"Bonus," Margo added, "you might make her realize what she's missing."

That brought chuckles from all of us students, but Bright-Star cleared her throat, which sounded disturbingly like Spot when she was about to cough up a hairball. "Professor Wire-Whiskers and I will be leaving now."

"See you for dinner tomorrow, Zoe."

"Oh, you invited her?" Bright-Star purred into her husband's ear. "Sneaky." To me she added, "Shoot me a message if there's anything you don't eat, Zoe."

"Will do," I promised.

They left, and I went into my room to retrieve my comm-badge. I fastened it inside the strap of my tank-top, and the five of us headed to the pub.

(=A=)

Stardate 46833.15
(Saturday, 1 November 2369, 2:24 AM, local time)
Grove St. Cemetery, New Haven, CT, Earth

My roommates and I, and Gavin, ate and laughed at the pub until midnight, and they even managed to get me to sing – actually everybody had to sing if they wanted a free dessert – and what college student would say no to karaoke in exchange for a chocolatey confection. Not this one, and not any of her friends.

We were the last group allowed into the cemetery at the end of the parade, and the night air had dropped far enough that even in layers we were chilly, and our breath hung in front of us whenever we opened our mouths.

The tours, hosted by the grad school students in Forestry and Environmental Sciences, began a brief history of the graveyard and its ghosts. We were then led on a twisting, turning tour of the site, pausing at the crypts and markers of famous Yale students and faculty who had come – and gone – long before any of us had been born.

It was part spooky and part somber, and I think we felt the weight of history as much as we wanted to feel the presence of the supernatural. At the end of the tour, we were greeted with mugs of hot chocolate (students who were legal to drink could have it spiked if they wished), and t-shirts that said, "I entered Grove Street Cemetery and came back alive," followed by the date.

At that point, freezing and tired, and just a bit edgy, we were ready to call the night over.

Gavin escorted us all the way back to our door. I had a feeling that there was real chemistry building between him and Margo, and I hoped my friend would give it a chance when she was feeling more herself.

I let the other women have first turns at the bathroom while I stowed the box holding the pigeon mask in the bottom of my tiny closet and then put my laundry bin on top of it. I wondered if there would ever be a time when these gifts would cease to be ominous, and just be beautiful things offered by a cruel and broken man.

A knock on my door startled me from my contemplation. "Zoe, it's your turn." Anjali's voice was pitched low because of the hour. "And don't worry about waking me if you get jumpy in the night. I know I would be."

I opened the door. "Thanks, Anj, really. You've all been amazing tonight."

"As you have been to us," she said. "Holding hair and holding hands." She paused. "Margo told Chuni and me about her… issue."

"Ah. Well, we share a home, we sort of have to be there for each other."

"Ideally, yes. But Zoe… you're our glue."

I laughed and enfolded my friend in a quick embrace. "I can live with that. Get some rest. You don't have my vampire tendencies and you don't want to sleep through breakfast tomorrow."

"Alright. G'night, Zoe."

I paused before going to the bathroom to take off my extreme make-up and wash my hair. Quickly, I sent a note to Data. "Home. Safe. Love you." He hadn't asked me to, but I knew he'd be assured by the message.

Notes: Double swipes at lunch are a contemporary Yale meal card feature that I liked, so kept. Biocontrol is mentioned in the novelization of either Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan or Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, in a conversation between David Marcus and Saavik. My assumption is that it's something a lot more reliable than the Rhythm Method. October Break is the last half of the week before midterms. Students are encouraged to relax and chill, not cram. Zoe and the rest of the group at New Moon were reading A Midsummer Night's Dream, by William Shakespeare. Grove Street Cemetery is one of (if not the) oldest cemetery in New Haven and is surrounded by the Yale campus. There's an annual family-friendly tour of it on the weekend preceding Halloween, with related events (face painting, costume contests) nearby. Having local kids trick-or-treat at the dorms is something I stole from my own university experience, though I went to school in San Francisco, so we ended up joining the party in the Castro, afterwards. For those keeping track of continuity, this chapter spans "Frame of Mind," and "Suspicions" and the time between, though the latter episode does not affect this story. (Revised 29 September 2019)