Author's Note: Thank you for reading and for your kudos, reviews, likes, and support! This is such an absolute pleasure to write. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed weaving it together.
My sincerest apologies that I promised a Monday drop and here it is Thursday – football has consumed my life the last few days (Yes, I'm still bit weepy).
Thank you for your patience.
This is intended to be fun, light-hearted story full of mystery and fluff.
Jean-Luc sat up abruptly as the sound of a bugle jolted him awake.
For a moment, he was started by the unfamiliar surroundings.
He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dark as the events that had transpired a few hours earlier came back to him.
He was on the holodeck.
This was Data's murder mystery party.
He fell back to onto his pillow and closed his eyes.
Jean-Luc wanted to sleep.
It was far too early.
"Good morning, Lord Moran," Quincy said brightly as he burst into the room.
Jean-Luc groaned.
"It's nearly quarter past four," Quincy said as he pulled back the curtains on the window. "The sun will be up before you know it."
Reluctantly, Jean-Luc rolled out of bed.
Quincy reached for the buttons on Jean-Luc's pyjama shirt when the captain stopped him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he said as he took a step back.
"Do you not wish for assistance in dressing, sir?" Quincy inquired innocently.
"I believe I can manage," Jean-Luc replied.
"As you wish," Quincy said with a low bow. "I've laid out your breeks and braces. I also took the liberty of selecting your cream and mustard tattersall shirt. I thought it would look best with the crimson waistcoat."
"Thank you," Picard said as he cleared his throat.
Quincy nodded but did not leave.
"That will be all," Picard added, hoping to convey his meaning.
"Oh, of course, sir," Quincy said as he exited.
Jean-Luc eyed the costume that was laid on for him. He had been eager for the opportunity to experience living in the historical attire of the era and thus far the holodeck did not disappoint.
As he buttoned his waistcoat, he admired his appearance in an ornate, floor-length mirror.
He picked up a tweed ivy cap and slipped into a pair of wellies.
"Astounding," he said aloud with a smile.
Reg Barclay was asleep on his stomach, snoring loudly and dreaming he was a swashbuckling vigilante locked in hand-to-hand combat with and evil Don to win the hand of his daughter.
The sound of the bugle woke him with a start.
He fell out of bed in a bundle of blankets, hitting the floor hard.
Reg got up slowly and looked around, worried that his fall had woken the others.
He breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared no one was the wiser.
Reg stepped over to the window and looked outside. It was still dark.
"Good morning, my lord," Quincy said as he burst into the room.
"G-g-good morning," Reg said, surprised by the sudden intrusion.
Quincy opened the wardrobe in the corner and quickly began to pull pieces out for the day.
"We've got to get you dressed and ready, Lord Finley," Quincy said as he threw a tie and jacket over his arm.
Reg scratched his head.
"The stalking party, sir," Quincy explained.
Quincy stepped over to the bed and laid out the clothing for Reg.
"When you say stalking-" Reg started to ask.
"Deer," Quincy explained. "I daresay Colonel Roderick is quite a keen shot."
"Sh-shot?" Reg asked nervously.
He had enough trouble holding a sonic driver steady. Reg was not comfortable with the idea of handling a firearm – even one that was holographic.
"Oh, not to worry, sir," Quincy assured him. "Your intended is a more than experience game stalker. You'll be in good hands."
Quincy slapped him on the back and swept out of the room.
Will Riker ran his hands along his jacket as he eyed himself in the mirror. While it wasn't the sort of thing he would have chosen for himself, he had to admit that he looked good.
The jacket was warm, and the shirt offered a surprisingly large range of motion compared to the dress shirt he'd worn to dinner the night before.
He stepped out into the corridor. He knocked lightly on Worf's door.
When there was no response, he assumed that Worf must already be downstairs.
When he reached the staircase, he paused.
Deciding to take a chance, Riker veered to the right instead of heading down to the entrance hall.
When he reached his destination, he knocked lightly before entering the dark room.
He grinned to himself. He'd had a feeling she wouldn't be up yet.
Riker padded lightly across the carpet and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Deanna stirred as he traced his fingers down her bicep.
"I knew you would still be asleep," he said as he quietly.
She groaned and rolled over, opening her eyes just enough to see him.
"Imzadi," she said sleepily.
"I'm guessing you went back to bed as soon as the butler left?" Riker asked.
"Left? He was never here," Deanna said, confused.
"Huh," Riker said aloud. "He woke me up about fifteen minutes ago. Said I needed to get downstairs to join the shooting party."
"Well, it looks like I wasn't invited," Deanna replied. "Fine by me. It's too early."
She closed her eyes and tried to hold onto that feeling of sleep.
Riker pulled himself onto the bed properly and reclined back.
"Maybe I can skip it," he said as he snuggled back into the pillow below his head. "I could do with a few more hours."
"You never were much of a morning person," Deanna commented.
"Look who's talking," he retorted.
A comfortable silence fell between the pair as Riker started to drift.
"You were so excited last night, I thought you wouldn't be able to sleep," Deanna said after a moment.
"I was," Riker replied idly. "But then I had a few drinks and then a nightcap. And then another nightcap."
He rolled to the side and pulled her close.
"And as thrilling as this mystery is, I'd rather spend my time here taking a nap with you," Riker stated.
Deanna looped her arm around his and they laid there comfortably in silence.
They were just about asleep when the door burst open.
Riker sat up and watched as Quincy swept into the room.
"Tsk tsk, Colonel," he said as he shook his head.
Riker wasn't sure how to respond. He was exhausted from lack of sleep and had been looking forward to enjoying a pleasant lie-in with his Imzadi.
"You're going to be late," Quincy insisted.
"What if I don't want to go?" Deanna asked as she sat up.
"Not to worry, Contessa," Quincy said. "You're free to sleep in. I'll call when it's time for breakfast."
"And what if I don't want to go?" Riker inquired.
"But you have to," Quincy shrugged. "Rules are rules."
Riker was about to protest but recalled the warning from a few hours earlier.
"You heard the man," Deanna said as she gave him a playful shove. "Get out of my bed."
"Don't worry, you aren't the only one," Quincy said.
Riker smiled and gave a chuckle.
"Hmmm, good thing the birthday boy doesn't need sleep, eh?" he said as he nudged Deanna.
"Not exactly," Quincy replied with a devious grin.
Riker's brow furrowed as he considered the butler's statement.
Was it a clue?
It was certainly and odd remark. And it seemed strange that he would give him that information if it wasn't related to the mystery.
"The time, sir," Quincy said as he tapped his right.
With a sigh, Riker gave Deanna quick peck on the cheek and rolled out of bed for a second time that morning.
Over in the east wing of the house, Tasha was just starting to stir.
Everything hurt.
It was the kind of feeling she was used to after a particularly intense workout.
Only, this felt different.
There was pressure behind her eyes. Her whole head felt swollen. When she tried to take a deep breath, she realised she had to breathe through her mouth.
Although she was typically an early riser, she wanted nothing more than to stay snug under the blankets because it was disturbingly chilly.
She snuggled back against Data.
Tasha suddenly stiffened. Her eyes snapped open.
As her view came into focus, she could see she was in Data's room, but with no recollection of how she had gotten there.
The last thing she remembered was being in her room- his jacket was on the bed, and then nothing.
Data's behaviour had been odd.
Unless it wasn't Data. A little voice in Tasha's head warned.
"Good morning," Data said in her ear.
Tasha didn't know what to say.
"Tasha?" he prompted, concerned.
"Erm," Tasha replied. "Morning."
She realised if this wasn't Data, it would be best not to let on that she knew.
Tasha rolled over and smiled at him.
"Are you alright?" he asked, noting the change in her vital signs.
"Just sleepy," she replied with a lazy grin.
She studied him carefully as she tried to theorise who or what he could be.
A malfunction?
A hologram?
Both were possibilities.
"Your body temperature is elevated," he said as he felt her forehead. "Are you feeling ill?"
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.
Data gripped her hand.
"What happened to your hand?" he inquired as he inspected the bruise that ran along the outside edge.
Tasha pulled her hand back and eyed him carefully.
"Tasha, have I done something wrong?" Data questioned.
He could see the change in her face, as if she were uncomfortable in his presence.
"Data, you're not going to do anything like that again are you?" she asked apprehensively.
Data cocked his head to the side.
"Do what?" he asked.
Before she could respond she sneezed violently spraying the front of her shirt and Data with thick mucus.
"Oh, gods," she said, clutching her hand over nose and looking around for a handkerchief.
In a flash, Data grabbed the red handkerchief from the jacket he'd worn the night before.
He handed it to her, and Tasha cleaned herself off.
"I'm so sorry," she said, utterly embarrassed.
"It is quite alright," he assured her. "I find sneezing a fascinating aspect of humanity that I have, as of yet, been unable to master."
He went to look for another handkerchief for himself and found the one in his pocket.
Data pulled it out carefully and examined it.
"Tasha, what do you remember about last night?" he inquired.
She sniffled and sat back against the headboard.
"You tell me," she shrugged, attempting to get more information.
He tipped his head to the side, taken aback by her statement.
"I am uncertain what you are asking," he said. "Do you wish for me to recount the details of my evening or are you inquiring as to when I found you?"
"Am I speaking to Inspector Fury or Professor Mith?" she asked.
Data was about to respond when the door to his quarters suddenly burst open and he lost the opportunity.
"Good morning," Quincy said as he swept into the room.
He gave the pair a knowing grin.
"I won't tell if you won't," he said with a wink.
Tasha opened her mouth to speak but Quincy went on.
"I've already taken the liberty of collecting your things," he said as he indicated to the various articles of clothing draped over his arm. "So, if you hurry and get dressed the rest of the party will be none the wiser."
If she was being honest with herself, she wasn't really well.
Although none of her colleagues had ever experienced a cold, Tasha knew exactly what was going on with her body.
Growing up on Turkana, she recognised the symptoms. It was likely some kind of virus. All that time spent in the cold, damp cellar and then out in the rain had likely exposed her to something.
It's a holodeck. Tasha reminded herself.
She didn't get the opportunity to ponder it further.
Quincy threw a bundle of clothing at her.
"Miss Moran, you are due downstairs," he said urgently. "Step to it!"
"Am I also due downstairs?" Data asked the butler.
"You won't want to miss it," Quincy said with a mischievous grin.
He bowed low and then quickly exited, leaving them alone once again.
"If you are ill, perhaps it would be best if you were to stay here," Data suggested.
"I think I can manage," Tasha said.
She wanted to be around other people. She didn't feel right alone with him.
He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her.
"You are running a fever," he said.
"How do you know that?" she asked.
Data was surprised by her question. She knew his specifications head to toe.
"Tasha, you are aware that my system is capable of identifying temperature in both organic and inorganic materials," he said.
His words from the night before echoed in her head.
I forgot that you require a sufficient temperature for safety.
"I hope last night wasn't too upsetting for you," he said in earnest.
He had no idea what had occurred between the lockout and finding her in her quarters – only that it was evident she had been outdoors. He was growing increasingly worried that whatever had transpired was something sinister.
For her part, his comment solidified this was, in fact, not Data.
Data would understand exactly how upsetting last night was for her.
Tasha decided that she would have to get more information. She needed answers.
More than that, she knew that she needed to neutralise him until she could eliminate if he was a threat or not.
If they were facing a hologram with Data's capabilities or if he were experiencing some kind of malfunction that could be incredibly dangerous.
She did the only thing she could think of.
"C'mere," she said sweetly as she gripped the back of his neck and pulled him close.
"Tasha-" he tried to say.
She silenced his protest with a kiss.
"We are-" he protested.
She kissed him again.
"Supposed to be-" Data insisted.
Tasha planted a line of kisses along his jawline.
"Getting dressed-" Data said.
She stopped and blinked at him.
"And the first step to getting dressed is getting undressed," she said innocently.
Data's eyes lit up and she pulled him in for another kiss.
As he climbed on top of her, Tasha's hands worked their way along his back until they found their target.
"I believe the phrase 'we are working against the clock' would be apropos," Data said.
"I'm sorry," she replied as she pressed the notch along his spine.
Data slumped down- deactivated and motionless.
She held him there for a moment, placing a chaste kiss at his temple.
"I mean it," she said softly. "If it is you, sweetheart. I'm sorry I have to do this."
She slid out from underneath him, shifting all sixteen stone of him enough that she could wiggle out.
Tasha grabbed the clothes Quincy had provided. She was grateful that they included trousers.
As she unbuttoned the shirt she was now wearing, Tasha was struck by a sudden wave of nausea.
Tasha wasn't sure if it was the bug she'd contracted or the idea that she had been redressed at some point by an imposter.
Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, she slipped into her wellies and set off downstairs to find the others.
She would speak with Captain Picard. He'd know what to do.
The entrance hall was dark and deserted. As Tasha came down the staircase, she didn't spot anyone.
"Outside," Quincy said, emerging from the shadows beside a statue.
Tasha nodded and made her way out the large door where she found Captain Picard and Reg Barclay engaged in uncomfortable small talk.
Poor Reg. She thought as she watched him fidget.
She waved to the two men as she approached. Captain Picard gave her a look that indicated he was relieved at her presence and Tasha had to bite back a grin.
She could see they were dressed in a similar fashion – boots, breeks, and standard country attire.
It was still mostly dark out, but the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon.
"Where is everyone?" Tasha asked as she looked around. "I need to speak with Geordi about Data."
"Professor La Roux has yet to join us," Jean-Luc smiled.
Tasha shook her head.
"No, sir," Tasha explained. "Something's wrong."
"Tasha?" he asked.
"I think something is wrong with the holodeck, sir," she said. "And there's something... off. With Data, I mean. He's not himself."
He could see was deeply bothered. He knew it had been a late night for all of them but she looked exhausted.
"What do you mean?" he asked seriously.
"At first, I thought he was caught up in the programme. You know? Excited. But it went too far. Data would never-"
Tasha trailed off.
"I tried to stop the programme, sir. I tried to stop it twice. The computer isn't responding."
"Mister Barclay, would you go fetch Mister La Forge?" Picard ordered.
He turned back to her.
"Tasha, what happened?" he asked softly as he put his hand on her shoulder.
Jean-Luc Picard did not like children. The idea of fatherhood was an alarming notion. The exception to that rule had been Tasha whom he considered an upstanding officer, a friend, a protégé, and – in a way - a surrogate daughter.
"The butler warned us last night that you broke the rules of the game but claimed you were somewhere safe," Picard told her.
"After we were locked in, Data took me through this secret passageway to the cellar," she supressed as a shudder as she recalled the experience. "He locked me in down there."
Jean-Luc could sympathise, he knew that Tasha had an aversion to be locked in anywhere.
"Perhaps it was part of the mystery?" he suggested.
"I thought it was at first, but he wouldn't do that. The room had an opening overhead that led to the grounds, but it was barred off. It was dark and freezing," she closed her eyes and took a breath before continuing. "He didn't come back."
Jean-Luc considered the weight of her words.
"I have no idea how long I was there," Tasha said bluntly. "I managed to escape, and I ran back through those woods this morning."
She pointed to the woods in the distance.
"Barefooted," she added. "He met me just over there. Brought me to my quarters. And before I could find out any information I blacked out. I think it was a drug. Some kind of inhalant."
Jean-Luc was speechless.
"I woke up in his rooms and I don't know how I got there," she said.
She held her hands up and showed him the bruises.
"That's from trying to get out," she explained.
Picard eyed the bruises along her hands with alarm.
"Data would never have done this," she said firmly. "Excited or not. He would never have let it go that far."
"Where is he now?" Picard inquired.
Tasha looked down at the ground. She felt horrible for what she'd done. She knew Data guarded his activation switch carefully. Deactivating him without consent was both violation of his body and a devaluation of his personhood.
"I deactivated him, sir," she said, ashamed with herself.
"Computer, end programme," Picard said.
This had gone too far. It was obvious there was something wrong.
Nothing happened.
"Computer, end programme," Picard repeatedly heatedly.
"It didn't work last night either," Tasha said before she sneezed.
Picard looked at her confused.
"I think I caught something from being out in the storm," she explained as she pulled the handkerchief from her breast pocket and blew her nose.
"We're going to see Doctor Crusher," Picard said as he took her arm and guided her inside.
They were almost to the door when they ran into Quincy escorting Reg Barclay out of the house.
"B-b-but I have orders," Reg insisted meekly.
"I believe you find your orders mean nothing here," Quincy said.
Picard moved to push past the holographic butler, but Quincy extended his hand to the doorframe, blocking his path.
"Excuse us," Picard said.
"No, no, no, you can't go back inside," Quincy insisted. "Not when the thrill of the hunt awaits you."
"Step aside," Picard ordered.
"I'm afraid I cannot permit that, sir," Quincy said.
He gave Reg a shove and as he stretched his body to block the door.
"Then please fetch Lieutenant La Forge and Doctor Crusher and bring them down here at once," Picard said.
"But there's no one here by those names," Quincy replied teasingly.
Picard put his hands on his hips and sighed.
"Alright then Professor La Roux and Miss Mansfield!" he snapped.
"They're indisposed," Quincy said with a smile.
"Is there a problem here?" Riker said as he came up behind Quincy.
"Number One," Picard said, relieved Riker was alright. "We've got a problem with the holodeck."
"A problem, sir?" Riker asked as Quincy permitted him to step outside.
They didn't have a chance to stop him until Riker was stuck on the other side of the door with the rest of them.
Picard cleared his throat.
"Yes. Several. The primary issue at the moment being that we aren't permitted inside," Picard said with a hint of impatience.
"As I warned you people last night, it is imperative that you play by the rules," Quincy explained. "And right now, you lot are supposed to be out stalking game."
Picard could see the conversation was going nowhere, so he decided to employ a new line of questioning.
"Where is Madame Rosenbaum? She was looking forward to this excursion," Picard inquired.
It was a fact. He knew Guinan had been excited for this morning.
"Sleeping off a late night," Quincy said with a frown.
"What about the rest of the guests?" Riker asked.
"We all have our parts to play," Quincy winked.
Without another word he closed the door and they heard it lock behind him.
"I'm sorry, sir," Barclay said apologetically. "I-I tried to-"
"It's quite alright, Mister Barclay," Picard assured him. "Something is wrong with this holodeck programme."
"Sir, what's going on?" Riker asked.
"I'm not exactly sure, Number One," Picard replied.
Behind them, a car horn sounded.
The four turned to see an ancient vehicle on the grass.
"That wasn't there a moment ago," Tasha commented.
A tall man stepped out of the vehicle and waved the group. He was dressed similarly to the rest of them – complete with an ivy cap.
"Good morning, my lord," he said with a large smile as he approached them. "The Land Rover is loaded and ready to go."
"Who are you?" Riker asked.
"Dafydd. Dafydd Jones," the man said introducing himself.
"You're the gamekeeper," Picard said as he pieced together what was happening.
"Aye, sir," the man replied. "Gamekeeper and professional stalker."
"Maybe we have to finish the storyline for the programme to end?" Reg suggested.
They knew Reg's theory was solid. They'd encountered it before.
But they hadn't even been inside the holodeck twelve hours. They still had over two and half days to go.
"We don't have time for that," Picard said.
He marched back to the door and tried to open it. When it wouldn't budge, he began to bang on the door.
Suddenly, he recoiled- hissing and shaking his hand in pain.
"Sir?" Tasha asked.
"It shocked me," Picard explained as he backed away from the door.
"I spotted quite a stag up on the north end, sir," Jones said in an effort to tempt the party. "Biggest one we've had on the grounds in years."
Seeing no alternative, they agreed to climb into the land rover and proceed with the storyline.
They road along the grounds, passing through a forested area and emerging on the other side of the river.
It was a bumpy ride, but Tasha decided to use the time to get information from Reg.
"Reg, did you help Geordi set up this holodeck programme?" she inquired.
"Not really," he responded honestly.
"You're not in any trouble," Tasha assured him. "I just want to try and figure out what's gone wrong."
"Honest, Lieutenant," he insisted. "I-I-I made the reservation with the Starbase, but I didn't design any of the storyline. I wasn't part of that development."
"Ok. Thanks, Reg," Tasha said with a reassuring smile.
"Lieutenant La Forge must have designed this then," Riker assumed. "That could explain why the butler was so hesitant to let us speak with him."
"Or it could have been a programme already in place," Reg suggested. "Starbase 515 may have this programme on file."
"There's something strangely intuitive about that butler," Picard said. "I can't place it, but he's so lifelike. Unlike any other hologram I've ever seen."
"Maybe it's an upgrade?" Riker suggested.
"This is a new holodeck," Tasha added.
"And we have seen what this technology can do," Riker went on. "Intuition, personality."
"Minuet," Picard said, finishing his thought.
He considered Riker's words. It was true that they had encountered astounding holographic programmes in the past with realistic worlds and characters with the kind of range and depth that far surpassed the imagination – Dixon Hill, Minuet, their Heist experience.
But all of those situations had involved problems – holodeck malfunctions and the Bynars overtaking the ship to save their planet.
A dark thought settled at the forefront of Picard's mind as he considered the possibility that maybe the problem wasn't with the holodeck.
What if the problem was with Starbase 515?
The vehicle ground to a stop.
"We'll travel the rest of the way on foot," Jones informed them.
They scrambled out of the vehicle. Jones unloaded the back and handed them each an antique rifle.
"Here. Before you do yourself a mischief," Tasha said sweetly as she took the rifle from Reg.
He handed it over willingly, having no desire to carry the device himself.
They set off along rocky terrain, making their way up a hill. The ground was still wet from the night before and Tasha was grateful that she had shoes on this time.
Every so often, Jones would look through his binoculars and scan the area.
They had gone another thirty metres when Jones ducked low and motioned for them all to get down and be quiet. He passed his binoculars back to Picard.
"My, my," he said breathlessly as he took in the sight of a large stag in the distance.
He passed the binoculars to Commander Riker who audibly gasped.
"That's some stag," he said as he handed them to Reg. "Right over there, eleven o'clock."
"Whoa," Reg said.
He'd never seen anything like it. He passed the binoculars down the line to Tasha who was eager for a better glimpse of the creature.
She gazed in wonder at the creature. She estimated it had to be somewhere between 100 – 120 centimetres from shoulder to hoof and that didn't account for its impressive antlers.
Tasha felt a tingling sensation just below her eyes.
She lowered the binoculars and closed her eyes.
But it was no use, she sneezed loudly, and it echoed – sending the stag running.
"Sorry," she said clumsily as she opened her eyes to find four sets of eyes staring back at her.
Captain Picard made an unlikely choking nose.
Followed by another.
He turned away.
"Sir?" Riker asked.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Picard said as he turned back to them laughing.
Back at the house, Beverly had woken up.
Despite their assurances last night that Wesley was fine, she couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alright.
She slipped on her dressing gown and into a pair of slippers and set off in the direction of his room.
The Doctor knocked twice and there was no response. Typically, Wes was a fairly light sleeper.
Beverly opened the door and stepped inside.
She pulled the cord on the lamp and observed that his bed was empty.
Not only was it empty, but it also looked like it hadn't been slept in.
She walked over to the fireplace and found it was completely cold.
"I knew it!" Beverly said aloud.
She sat down in the chair by the fire as she thought about what to do next.
He had been hesitant to share information from his character card when they'd received their invitations.
It was possible he was the victim.
Or the perpetrator. Beverly thought darkly.
Still, her intuition was screaming that something was wrong.
It was a big house and Wes was a curious teen.
Unable to shake the feeling that he may be in trouble, Beverly set off to search the house.
"I don't want to do this," Geordi said loudly against Data's door. "C'mon you two."
He'd knocked on Data's door for the last few minutes with no response.
Geordi had checked Tasha's room first. There had been no answer and when he checked the room, he discovered it was unlikely she'd spent the night there.
Reluctantly, he'd headed up to Data's quarters.
He didn't want to disturb his friends, but he was worried about them.
Data had been acting odd and Tasha's absence for 'breaking the rules' didn't seem to sit right.
Geordi knocked again on the door.
"Alright," Geordi said loudly. "I'm coming in."
The first thing he noticed was that Data was face down on the bed.
Alone.
Data wasn't moving.
"Data?" Geordi called out.
There was no response.
Geordi stepped over to the bed and touched Data's arm.
There was no response.
Geordi located Data's activation switch and discovered it had been shut off. He flipped the mechanism and Data's eyes shot open.
"Data?" Geordi asked.
Data blinked several times.
"Geordi, what are you doing here?" Data inquired.
"I went to check on Tasha this morning and she wasn't in her room. I thought maybe she spent the night here," Geordi explained. "When no one answered the door, I came in and found you like this."
According to his internal chronometer it was nearly 07:00. He had been unconscious for nearly two hours without explanation.
"What happened, Data?" Geordi asked.
Data sat up and looked around the room.
Tasha was gone.
"I am uncertain," he confessed.
"Well, what's the last thing you remember?" Geordi asked.
Data accessed his memory engrams.
The butler had come in and encouraged them to get dressed.
And the first step to getting dressed is getting undressed.
An unsettling feeling crept into Data's mind.
The last thing he remembered was Tasha encouraging him to climb into bed.
"Data?" Geordi prompted.
"I am sorry, Geordi," Data apologised. "The last memory I can recall is not logical."
"What are you saying, Data?" Geordi asked.
"I believe Tasha initiated," he paused, uncomfortable. "coupling for the purpose of deception."
Geordi sat down on the edge of the bed as he considered the weight of Data's statement.
He knew just how serious an accusation it was. Deactivating Data without his consent was a violation of his autonomy.
"Data, Tasha wouldn't have done that without a good reason," Geordi said.
"As I said," Data replied. "Illogical."
Geordi started to pace back and forth.
"Did she explain where she was last night?" Geordi asked. "Or what Quincy meant when he said she had broken the rules?"
Data's brow furrowed.
"Broke the rules?" Data asked.
"Yes, Data," Geordi stated. "Last night in the library. Quincy said he had seen to alternative arrangements for her. When we saw you later you said she was sleeping."
"Geordi, you and I did not speak last night after I saw Tasha," Data said.
Geordi stopped and put his hands on his hips.
"Data you were in the library. I saw you. I spoke to you!" Geordi insisted.
Data stepped over to the note he had found earlier.
Happy birthday dear brother.
"Come Geordi," Data said urgently as he ran out the door. "I believe we are all in danger."
"Data? Data!" Geordi shouted as he rushed after him.
Across the holodeck, the stalking party was trudging through the woods on foot.
All too familiar. Tasha thought to herself as they trekked through the mud.
"Watch your step," Jones advised.
Reg lost his footing and very nearly slipped, but a swift catch from Commander Riker kept him on his feet.
"Where exactly are we headed Mister Jones?" Captain Picard inquired.
"Not much further," Jones said.
"I wonder if we have to nab that stag before the story progresses?" Riker asked the captain quietly.
"Mister Jones, must we kill something before we can return to the house?" Picard asked. "While this has been fun, I think we're all thoroughly fed up with the mud at this point."
Jones stopped and turned back to the party smiling.
"It is the game, sir," Jones said.
Picard and Riker exchanged a glance.
"Why don't we split up?" Jones suggested. "Cover twice as much ground?"
Riker shrugged. If it got them back to the house faster, it had to be a good idea.
"Sir, why don't you show the Colonel the trail along the river? I'll stay the course on this route, and we can give Miss Moran some time with the Duke?" Jones suggested.
Captain Picard rolled his eyes.
He was about to protest but a quick glance from Tasha told him to let it go.
"Come along, Duke Finley," Tasha teased as she pulled Reg down the path that broke west.
Meanwhile, Captain Picard and Commander Riker made their way down a steep path toward the river below.
"I j-just want you to know this wasn't my idea," Reg said. "I-I mean I n-n-never would have…we'll I d-didn't mean to ruin Mr Data's birthday."
"It's fine Reg," Tasha assured him. "You haven't ruined anything."
"He's not mad?" Reg asked.
Tasha shook her head.
"Of course not," Tasha said with a smile.
Her face fell.
"What is it?" Reg asked.
"It just worries me that he was acting so strangely this morning," Tasha confessed. "Something is very wrong. And I hate that we're stuck out here instead of finding a way to fix it."
"I am sure Data will be fine," Reg said meekly.
Tasha was worried. And every moment spent away from the house was only adding to that feeling.
"Lieutenant La Forge will be able-" Reg's foot hit something and he tripped.
"You alright?" Tasha called back to him.
Reg had tripped on something.
Or rather, someone.
He was staring eye to eye with one of the valets from the night before – only the valet was cold.
He was lifeless.
Reg opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. He wanted to move, but he was afraid to touch the body to roll off of it.
Tasha gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him up.
Reg was a mess, pointing and stuttering but incapable of formulating a sentence.
"Reg," Tasha said softly as she tried to calm him down. "It's just a hologram."
He was breathing too quickly. He was going to hyperventilate if he didn't slow down.
Tasha fell back on her security training and pulled him in for a hug.
"Alright," she said in a soothing voice. "I know, I know, that was scary."
Reg started to calm down.
He'd never seen a dead body and hologram or not, he knew it would haunt him for the rest of his days.
"That was whu-whu-one of the valets," Reg squeaked as he took a step back and wiped his brow with his handkerchief.
Tasha knelt down next to the body and studied it.
The body was lying face-up on the ground wearing the same suit he had worn the night before. There was no apparent injury or visible trauma.
Tasha gripped the wrist of the corpse and tried to move the arm without result.
"Rigor mortis has set in," she said.
Reg looked pale as he tried not to vomit.
"C'mon, let's find the others," Tasha suggested.
They raced back down the trail as quickly as their feet could carry them.
When they reached the spot where the path had diverged Tasha stopped and Reg bumped into her a second later.
The gamekeeper, Jones was on the ground.
Dead.
"Don't look Reg," she cautioned.
Reg turned around and covered his eyes. He had no wish to see a second dead body.
Realising she needed to get the attention of Command Riker and Captain Picard as quickly as possible, Tasha grabbed her rifle. She took aim and fired into the distance, hoping the sound would serve as signal for them.
Behind her, Reg fell against a tree in a slump.
"I've been shot," he said, clutching his side.
Back at the house, Miles and Keiko had just reached the entrance hall.
"Good morning, Miss Collins," Miles said as he offered her his arm.
"Good morning, Blackjack," Keiko replied with a grin.
She had her notebook in hand and was ready to discuss the findings of their initial investigation over breakfast.
"Shall we?" Miles suggested as opened the door to the dining room for her.
Suddenly, his expression changed.
"Miles?" Keiko asked.
"Sir?" Miles called out.
Keiko turned to follow his line of sight.
Data, clad only in a pair of pyjama trousers, was marching across the entrance hall with determination.
"Data! Data slow down!" Geordi called as he raced after him.
When they reached the statue at the end of the corridor, Data opened the passageway.
"Whoa," Geordi said as they stepped inside.
"This leads to the cellar," Data said as he opened the wall to reveal the staircase that led down into darkness.
He explained to Geordi that on their way downstairs, he had seen Tasha in the distance, and it was evident she was in the company of someone. Since he could hear no footfalls, he deduced they had travelled on the staircase that led down.
"Then where does this lead to?" Geordi asked as he pointed to the spiral staircase that led up.
"I am unsure," Data confessed.
Geordi cocked his head to the stairs that led upward the pair followed the staircase as wound up through the house.
After what felt like two flights, they reached a stone wall. There was a small keystone in the wall.
Data pressed it and the wall moved.
They stepped out and found themselves in Data's room.
"Well, how do you like that?" Geordi remarked with a whistle.
"I do not," Data replied darkly.
"Lieutenant?" Captain Picard called out as he and Commander Riker emerged from the woods.
Barclay was resting against a tree. Tasha had discarded her waistcoat and was using it try and stop the bleeding.
"What happened here?" Riker asked he took the body on the ground and the injured Barclay.
"Well, we know now the holodeck safety protocols aren't functioning," Tasha said bitterly.
Reg winced as Tasha tipped him forward and felt under his coat.
"Clean in and out," she advised.
Reg fainted.
"I think that's more surprise than wound, sir," Tasha said as she tipped him back against the tree.
"What happened?" Captain Picard demanded.
"I don't know, sir," Tasha explained as she shook her head. "We found a body."
Tasha filled Picard and Riker in on their discovery of the valet's body. She explained that on their way to find the others, they found the gamekeeper dead on the ground.
"Who fired the gun?" Picard questioned.
"I fired to get your attention," Tasha said before quickly adding, "in that direction."
Tasha said as she pointed off to the north.
"I didn't shoot Reg," she insisted. "But it happened at the same time."
"Mister Barclay?" Riker said as he picked up Barclay, gently tapping his face. "Barclay? Barclay?"
"Let's get back to the house," Picard advised.
They carried Barclay to the end of the trail and loaded him into the back of the land rover.
Captain Picard got behind the wheel and looked down at the apparatus.
"Now, I'm sure one of these must activate the propulsion," Picard said as he turned on the headlamps.
"Oh, scoot over," Tasha said.
He moved aside and she stepped up into the driver's seat.
She'd watched the gamekeeper start the vehicle earlier and noted it to memory. After all, it didn't appear to be too terribly different than the land vehicles she'd driven on Turkana.
She turned the key, put it in gear, and they were off.
"Barclay, do you know who shot you?" Riker asked.
"You told me to turn around," Reg said, dazed.
Riker looked to Tasha.
"You asked him to turn around?" he clarified.
"So, he wouldn't see the body," Tasha replied. "He'd been disturbed enough by the first one."
"Tasha, if you didn't shoot Reg how could someone else possibly have known to fire at the exact same moment?" Riker questioned.
"You must admit, that's quite a coincidence," Picard added.
"I didn't shoot him!" Tasha snapped defensively.
"You're certain?" Riker asked.
Tasha turned around and shot him a look.
"Right," Riker said apologetically.
Tasha's marksmanship with a phaser rifle was unrivalled. In fact, she was the best on the ship. It wasn't possible for her to have accidently shot Reg.
"Let's get him to Doctor Crusher first and worry about the mystery later," Picard ordered.
"What do you think they were doing?" Keiko asked as she sat down at the dining room table.
Approximately a half hour earlier, Quincy had woken the other guests and summoned them for breakfast in the dining room.
"Dunno," Miles shrugged as he reached for a plate of sausage rolls.
"I don't think I've ever seen this much food," Sonya said wide-eyed as she took in the spread before them.
The table was laid out with everything from fruit and croissants to sausage rolls and kippers. There were plates piled high with mountains of toast and drop scones. Piles of bacon were stacked high next to a platter of tatties. The feast included beans, tomatoes, mushroom, and laverbread.
"Oooo! Oatmeal," Miles said with a grin.
"Does anyone know where the rest of guests are?" Lwaxana asked as she settled into a seat next to Sonya.
"I'm not sure, Mr Data and Geordi were off somewhere in a hurry," O'Brien said through a mouthful of oats.
Worf wasn't happy with their absence. The butler had provided him with few answers when he'd inquired about the hunting party.
"We'll I'd like to know where my son is," Beverly said angrily as she stepped into the room.
"Ah, Miss Mansfield," Quincy said as he pulled out a chair for her. "I trust you slept well."
"Where is my son?" she demanded.
Quincy looked at her as if he needed an explanation.
Beverly rolled her eyes and sighed, exasperated, and tired of the game.
"Young Mister Wyatt," she asked sternly.
"He's sleeping," Quincy said. "Have a lie-in."
"You're lying," Beverly smiled. "I checked his room. He's not there."
Everyone looked at one another.
"When was the last time any of us saw him?" Keiko asked.
"Coffee or tea, madame?" Quincy asked.
"Neither," Beverly hissed. "I want my son."
Quincy stepped over to the cabinets that lined the wall.
"I've already told you," Quincy said, irritated. "He is asleep."
"No, he isn't," Beverly replied angrily as she stood up.
Quincy opened the door to the cabinet and Wesley fell out.
"Told you," Quincy said smugly.
They all rushed over to him.
Beverly checked his pulse and breathing. It was limited what she could do without her medical kit, but she could make a rudimentary read of his vital signs.
"He does appear to be asleep," Beverly said as she cradled his head.
"Here," Miles said as helped her carry him into the lounge next door.
They laid him onto the chaise lounge, but he didn't appear to wake up.
"Why won't he wake up?" Beverly asked.
"He will. Once he is fully rested of course," Quincy advised. "He was quite a naughty boy last night."
Beverly brushed her hands back through his hair, relieved he was safe.
"He must have been very tired," she said.
"I wonder what he got up to," Deanna asked as she watched him sleep.
She couldn't be certain, but she felt like Wesley was bothered by something.
"I'll be in as soon as he wakes," Beverly assured them. "Go ahead."
"No," Lwaxana said as she stood up. "I won't have it!"
Everyone looked confused as she grabbed Sonya and Miles and marched them out of the room.
She returned a moment later carrying a tray of croissants in one hand a plate of fruit in the other. Miles and Sonya were behind, both bringing in plates from the feast next door.
"That's better," Lwaxana said as she arranged them on the table in lounge.
Deanna bit back a smile as she watched her mother.
A moment later the door to the dining room burst open.
"Doctor Crusher!" Captain Picard shouted.
"If they haven't figured it out already, they will soon," Guinan said as she moved her knight.
"Should I read into the fact Jean-Luc didn't recognise me?" he sulked.
Guinan sat back and swirled her drink as she observed him.
In all their time together, she had never been able to figure him out.
"They're incapable of following direction," Q said. "But I've got them right where I want them."
He chuckled as moved his rook capture her knight.
"Don't undersestimate them," Guinan warned as her queen swept in to capture his rook.
Q grumbled at the loss of his piece.
"How long do you really think you can keep this up?" Guinan asked.
Suddenly, Q sat up and looked as if he were distracted by something.
He looked worried and his eyes grew wide.
"Unfortunately, not much longer," he said strangely as he looked back to her.
Everyone ran into the dining room where Tasha and Commander Riker laid Reg out on the table.
"Oh, my boy!" Lwaxana shrieked as she pushed past the crowd to grip Reg's hand.
"What happened?" Beverly asked as she noted the blood on Reg's coat and Tasha's hands.
She rolled up her sleeves and stepped up to the table.
"He's been shot," Picard explained.
"It was clean in and out the other side," Tasha added.
"How?" Beverly asked as she assessed the wound.
No one said anything but Deanna watched as Riker looked to Tasha briefly before turning his gaze to the floor.
"Are you alright?" Lwaxana asked Reg.
Deanna shook her head. She couldn't get over her mother doting on Lieutenant Barclay. Lwaxana had always wanted a son, but it couldn't be stranger that she'd found that in Reg in such a short time.
"What do you remember about it?" Keiko asked as she stepped forward.
"Professor, I don't believe this is part of the mystery," Captain Picard said seriously.
He shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his waistcoat.
"Something has gone wrong with the holodeck," Picard advised. "Watch."
He ordered the holodeck to stop the programme.
When nothing happened, everyone started to whisper.
"And now we know the safety protocols are off as well," Riker said as he pointed to Barclay.
"Also, there's also something wrong with Data," Tasha added.
"I can assure that there is nothing wrong me," Data stated as he and Geordi stepped into the dining room.
An unmistakable look of fear crossed Tasha's face.
It unsettled Data. He'd never seen her look at him in that way.
"I have run several self-diagnostics and have found no irregularities," Data explained.
Captain Picard eyed his android second officer sceptically.
"You'll forgive me, Mister Data, if I find myself inclined to agree with Lieutenant Yar," Picard said as he looked Data up and down.
"Captain, please forgive my current state of undress," Data asked. "But in my haste, I did not take time to dress."
"Haste?" Picard asked.
"I believe we are all in great danger, sir," Data said. "I think it would be best if everyone took a seat."
In the other room, Wesley woke with a start.
He sat up and took in his surroundings. Light was streaming in through the window, and he could hear voices in the other room.
He had to warn Captain Picard.
"I believe that there is someone else present in the holodeck with us," Data explained. "Someone who's presence would explain some of the strange occurrences of this morning."
"The point, Data," Picard pressed.
"Lore!" Wesley said dramatically as he stepped into the dining room. "That's not, Data. That's Lore!"
"I am not Lore," Data said simply.
Everyone instinctively took a step back.
"I heard him talking with the butler," Wesley said. "They were talking about Lieutenant Yar being in the wrong place."
"I am not Lore," Data repeated.
"You're practically identical," Riker shrugged. "We can't be certain if all we have is your word."
Everyone's eyes fell to Tasha.
"I am not Lore," Data repeated for a third time.
Only this time it came out less as a statement and more as plea for help.
Tasha stepped forward.
"What book are we reading right now?" Tasha asked.
Tasha liked to read, and they had discovered Data enjoyed listening to her narrate stories. It wasn't an answer Lore would know.
He was about to respond that she was not currently reading a book. She was standing in the dining room of the fictional house on the holodeck.
However, he considered this was perhaps another instance in which human phrasing did not mean a literal interpretation.
Data cocked his head to the side as it took him a moment to catch her meaning.
"We are reading Night Watch at Starbase 12," Data answered.
Tasha released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.
"Data," she smiled.
He nodded.
"I believe Lore is acting as my fictional nemesis, Professor Mith," Data explained to the group.
"To what end?" Geordi asked.
"I am uncertain," Data admitted.
Captain Picard sat on the edge of the table as he considered their circumstances.
"Are you saying Lore planned this event somehow?" Picard asked. "How could he have even known?"
The all looked at one another.
Captain Picard had a good point.
Geordi shook his head.
"After Tasha asked me for help, I recruited Reg," Geordi explained.
"Then you didn't coordinate this?" Riker asked.
"No," Geordi replied. "All I got was a request for a guest list from Starbase 515. Subspace communication. No name."
A dark look fell between the Captain and Riker.
"Well, neither did Lieutenant Barclay," Riker said. "All he did was make the reservation."
"What is he up to then?" Beverly asked as she pulled Wesley close.
"Last night I heard him talking with the butler. The butler said Lore was supposed to bring a little drama to the party."
Wesley squared his shoulders.
"And I don't think the butler is a hologram," Wesley said firmly.
A slow clap from the corner brought their attention to Quincy who was leaning against the wall.
"Oh, very good young Wesley," Quincy said as he began to circle the table. "I knew you lot wouldn't be able to resist breaking the rules. And I just adore watching you do it."
He grinned manically.
"I had wondered which of you would be the first to figure it out," he went on.
Quincy came to a stop in front of the captain.
"I had so hoped it would be you Jean-Luc," he said.
"Q," Jean-Luc said through gritted teeth.
With a snap of his fingers, his appearance changed.
It was, indeed, Q.
He hopped onto the table next to the captain and rested his head on his shoulder.
"Did you miss me Jean-Luc?" he pouted.