ROLLERCOASTER

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Something Changed

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Two

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The shifts back into his life as an old man were always the hardest… or, at least, he believed that they were shifts from one stage of his life to another. There was still the possibility to face that the glimpses of the past he was experiencing were all just in his mind. He found himself being nudged gently out of foggy sleep once again by Geordi LaForge. Urgencies he had been aware of in the past still clung to him now, however. While the memory was still relatively fresh, he told Geordi about the anomaly that he had witnessed in the Devron system in the past he had just visited, and the pressing need to get out into the Neutral Zone. It was only as he was saying this that he recalled there had not been a Neutral Zone for some time, ever since the Klingon Empire's considerable expansion.

Still… he had to try, at least. And while he still had friends in high places…

'Mr Data! Get me Admiral Riker.'

The android looked blankly up at Picard from a pile of notes. Picard should have noted the way that Nikolai shrank behind his book, or Geordi's warning cough, but the past was still urging him on to get to the Neutral Zone by whatever means were possible. The personal feelings of others didn't even register for him at that point.

'I believe he's at Starbase 247,' Picard added.

Data gazed emptily at him for a moment longer, before replying; 'No.'

It took a moment for Picard to remember that the android was no longer his subordinate, and not obliged to acquiesce to any command of his.

'Data,' he replied 'this is important.'

'So were my daughters,' answered Data. 'So was my marriage. But Starfleet took those from me.'

'No one "took" Mum,' Nikolai muttered from behind his book. 'Mum left.'

'She went missing while under their command,' Data added. 'Lal and Abigail were pushed into cascade failure by Starfleet's unnecessary meddling, whereas its failure to intervene on time when it was required, resulted in Nadia and Nik's illnesses. I turned my back on Starfleet a long time ago, and I shall have no contact with them…'

Geordi folded his arms. 'Uh-huh. When, exactly, was the last time you did communicate with Admiral Riker?'

Data didn't reply, but stared at his friend, stonily.

'Just because,' Geordi added, 'I can see the recent call list on your vidiscreen,' he nodded at a barely visible list of tiny numbers, hidden under an almost entirely opaque hologram on the far wall, 'and it looks like you were in touch with Starbase 247 only last Friday.'

'Forgive me, Geordi, for doing all that is within my capabilities to attempt to locate my wife, even if that does include contradicting myself.' Data sighed. 'Contact the Admiral if you wish, but if you are expecting him to be helpful, perhaps you should prepare yourselves for disappointment.'

'Let me guess,' Geordi retorted. 'You're having arguments with Will Riker too these days.'

'Not "arguments" as such…' Data attempted.

'Come off it, Dad.' Nikolai shut his book. 'Half the college could hear that row. You're going to run out of friends by the end of the year at the rate you're alienating them.'

'Young man…' warned Data.

'In defence of your father, Nikolai,' Picard interjected, 'the good Admiral has been notably more argumentative over the last few years, ever since he lost Deanna…' he trailed off and corrected himself. 'Since we all lost Deanna.'

After all, he reminded himself, Will wasn't the only one who felt that loss keenly. It wasn't only Worf who the Admiral had grown frosty towards of late – he had pushed away practically everyone who had served on the Enterprise with Deanna and him. Perhaps he saw everybody as a rival for the fondness he had felt for the Betazoid, and not just those who had had romantic intentions towards her. Perhaps Will didn't want to share his loss with anybody who had loved her in any way. Perhaps he didn't want anybody else to miss her every day.

But everybody did miss her. Everybody had loved her, and continued to love her after she was gone. That was just Deanna's way – her charm – and there was nothing that Will could do to monopolise that love, or that loss. Indeed, often Picard wondered whether it had been the loss of Deanna that had caused the friendship group – once practically family – to fall apart so. He likened it to a load-bearing beam being removed from on old building – take away just one support, and the whole structure begins to collapse in on itself. He found himself imagining – as he often did these days – Deanna's response to their behaviour. He could almost hear her voice telling them all that the anger they felt was a normal part of the grieving process, and that perhaps they should find healthier outlets for their rage than turning it in on themselves and each other. In fact, Picard often imagined that the only person who would have been able to guide them all through the pain of losing Deanna Troi was, ironically, Deanna Troi herself. Deanna could have helped Data come to terms with Tasha's disappearance – she might even have been able to help steer himself and Beverly away from their divorce… but, that was not to be. She was gone now, and all that they could do… all that there was to do…

There was something that he had to do.

He shook himself out of his spiralling, distracting thoughts and concentrated back on the task in hand. He had to get to the Devron System, somehow, and fast.

'May I contact the Admiral from your Vidiscreen?' he asked.

'Be my guest,' Data replied. 'But expect no favours from him.'

Picard gave the Professor a grateful nod, and summoned Starbase 247 from the office's Comms system. After a moment, the screen filled with the image of William Riker, rubbing his face in exasperation.

'For the last time, Data,' growled Riker, still not looking up, 'the instant we hear any news about Tasha, believe me, you'll be the first to know. We're doing everything that we can to trace her, and… oh…' Will finally looked properly at the screen and blinked in surprise. 'Ambassador!'

'When are you going to start calling me Jean-Luc, Will?'

Riker actually managed a faint smile at that. 'What brings you to Cambridge, Ambassador? And to what do I owe this honour?'

Picard told him about the shifts in time, and his pressing need to get passage to the Devron system, and as he talked, watched Will Riker's expression drain of all its earlier friendliness and enthusiasm, until all that was left was the same grim mask that he remembered from the day of Deanna's funeral. Before his old friend so much as opened his mouth to reply, Picard knew what the answer was going to be – that Starfleet could not - would not – take any risks as far as potentially angering the Klingon Empire was concerned, and since the Devron System was now in Klingon space, it was out of bounds to them.

Picard sighed as Riker ended the transmission.

'Bang goes that idea,' muttered Geordi in disappointment. 'Guess you were right, Data.'

'With all due respect, though, nobody wants war with the Klingons,' Nikolai interjected. 'The Admiral's just going by the rules.'

'You're right, of course, Nikolai,' Picard agreed. 'It's just that the idea of Will Riker doing everything by the book is a rather depressing one.'

'Not to mention,' Geordi added, 'one which doesn't exactly help us out.'

Nikolai resignedly got to his feet to clear up the teacups, then froze, hit by an idea. 'Hang on, aren't you all friends with a Klingon governor?'

'"Friend" may be stretching the closeness of our relationship with Worf these days,' Geordi replied with a suck of the teeth.

'But he's an old crewmate, right?' Nikolai added, with increasing excitement. 'I mean, he served with you all for years…'

'So did Will,' Picard replied, 'but that didn't necessarily make him amenable to helping us.'

Well, Picard reasoned to himself, he couldn't really blame Will, or Worf, or any of his old colleagues now in high ranking positions – positions that they'd striven all their lives to obtain – positions that would be at potential risk were they to adhere to the request of their retired, senile former Captain.

'It's worth a try with Worf, though,' Nikolai persisted. 'I mean - he owes you enough to hear you out, at least, right?'

Picard nodded, thoughtfully. 'I imagine, however, that the very most Mr Worf would be able to do for this hypothetical mission would be to offer us special dispensation to the Devron System. We'd still face the problem of having to find a vessel able and willing to take us there.'

'Well,' replied Nikolai, perching on an armrest excitedly, 'what other old friends do you have that you could call a favour on?'

Picard fell quiet and frowned. There was only one person he could think of who commanded a starship that he could even remotely contemplate asking such a grand favour of, and he couldn't exactly say that he was keen to do so, considering the circumstances. There had to be somebody else. Had to be.

Unfortunately for him, the obvious solution was so glaring that it only took a split second for Data to realise it as well.

'A Medical ship would be allowed passage across the Klingon border.'

Picard nodded again, resignedly. 'Beverly.'

'How long has it been since you last spoke with your former wife?' Data asked with a touch of sympathy.

'Longer than it's been since you last spoke with yours.'

Data managed a small smile at his comment. 'But Tasha and I are not divorced. I believe that to divorce one's wife one must first have to locate her.'

'Dad,' Nikolai tutted. 'That's not funny.'

'Well,' interrupted Picard, 'at least we know the whereabouts of one of our wives. Let's see if we can get in touch with the USS Pasteur.'

-x-

'How are you doing?'

The patient looked up, in a haze. 'Oh, it's the Captain. Captain on the Bridge!'

'We're not on the Bridge.'

'Captain in the… um… hospitally thing, then.'

'It's called a Sick Bay.'

The patient started giggling. 'A Sick Bay on a Medical Ship. I always thought Medical Ships were just one big Sick Bay.'

The Captain tilted her head a little at her patient. 'I think I'm gonna ask them to change your pain meds.'

'Oh, no…' the patient sighed.

'You're as high as a kite!'

'But it's nice!'

The Captain exhaled deeply. 'Maybe, under the circumstances of today, we can let you finish off this course of meds before finding something a little less intoxicating…'

'What's special about today? Is it my birthday? Did I ever tell you about the nicest Birthday present I ever got…?'

'Yes,' interrupted the Captain, 'several times.' She paused. 'I'm afraid I have something to tell you…'

'Serious Face,' the patient noted. 'Your Serious Face is never good. What's happened?'

'I've just got off the Vidiscreen,' the Captain explained, 'with Cambridge.'

'What?' The patient tried to prop herself up on her shoulders, but pain combined with her strong medication forced her onto her back once more. 'I asked you not contact them until I was ready, Beverly. You promised! I know you think it's wrong, but you gave your word…'

'My word's my bond,' Beverly replied. 'You know that. It was an incoming message. From Jean-Luc.'

The patient blinked. 'What?' she repeated. 'What's he doing in Cambridge? Visiting?'

'After a fashion,' Beverly replied. 'And the visits look as though they're going to continue. See…'

'Did you tell him?' the patient interrupted. 'About me? I don't want it to get out that way. Please don't tell him…'

'I didn't tell anybody about you,' Beverly replied. 'But I'm afraid that it seems you won't be able to hide away from your life for much longer.'

'I'm not hiding,' the patient muttered. 'I just need more time…'

'Well, your time's about to run out.' Beverly paused. 'He's already on his way. He's coming aboard.'

'Your husband?'

'Your husband, Tasha. With Geordi and Jean-Luc. They needed a ship, and Jean-Luc persuaded me to let them use mine.' Beverly smiled a little. 'Even after everything, there's still not much I wouldn't do for that man.'

'Except stick around,' Tasha slurred, 'right?'

Beverly raised her eyebrows. 'A fine one to talk.'

Tasha snorted a self-deprecating laugh. 'How long do I have?'

'We'll be rendezvousing with their shuttle in 26 hours.'

Tasha bit her lips together in resignation. 'I'm in big trouble, aren't I, Mrs Picard?'

'Yes you are, Mrs Data Yar. Yes you are.'