The Complication

by CharlieFenwick

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

91. As Luck Would Have It

Author's Note: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

You lot are simply the best!

A couple notes on this Chapter:

Schizoid Man is one of my all-time favourite episodes of TNG. William Morgan Shepard is brilliant – creating such a rich, unforgettable character in his limited time onscreen. Brent Spiner got another chance to flex his acting skills. And there's that adorable flash of Tasha in Data's memory sequence.

For me, this was always confirmation there was always canonically more between them than we were initially led to believe.

Timing

Schizoid Man was originally an S2 episode with Doctor Pulaski.

But we're taking this one out of order to better accommodate it to my canon divergent timeline. I needed it to occur after the nanocyte incident but before we hit our S2 sequel The Crucible.

And let's just say this story also works better without our favourite couple worrying about feeding schedules and bedtime routines.

This is a multi-part instalment. It is such a pivotal moment for Data, I couldn't bear to do anything less than three chapters.

So you'll notice that in addition to being out of sequence, this storyline is also stretched out to cover a longer period of time. The bulk of the original script revolves around transporting Kareen Brianon from Graves's World to Starbase 6. So we're going to spend some more time exploring that.

Graves/Data

This is a difficult story to write. For much of the tale, you've got two distinct people existing within one body.

To complicate matters, our other characters are unaware of this duality. There's no easy 'switch' between them.

Therefore, when Graves is speaking or moving he is referred to as such. When others are observing this behaviour or talking about him, he is referred to as 'Data' because they believe this is Data.

In the original script, Darnay's disease is said to attack the mind. Therefore, I've chosen to elaborate on that. Ira's behaviour is erratic because he's truly struggling. He's trying to hold onto his mind in spite of the fact this disease has impacted his decision-making ability and overall cognitive health.

As always, thank you for your ongoing support in this series!

---

Tasha Yar sat down at the table in Data's quarters. She clicked to boot up her tablet and then turned to the replicator.

"Raktajino, oversized. Flavour of the day," Tasha ordered. "Hazelnut sprinkles."

Tasha stopped.

"Belay that order. Computer, what is the flavour of the day?" Tasha asked.

"The flavour of the day is Blueberry Muffin," the computers.

"Cancel the hazelnut sprinkles. Let's do banana instead," Tasha requested.

A familiar shimmering sound filled Data's quarters as the drink materialised.

Tasha closed her eyes and relished in that first blissful sip of the rich liquid.

Her moment of peace was cut short by a loud burst of music from her tablet.

"Good morning, Enterprise! This is your Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge reminding you that these routine mapping missions are a great time to get caught up on all your maintenance requests."

Tasha groaned as Geordi's voice rang out from her tablet at full volume.

"So whether you're settling in for that first morning Raktajino or just coming off the overnight shift – we've got the perfect way to start or end your day," Geordi said. "The more you can help our team stay on top of maintenance, the better the ship runs for all of us."

His tone was egregiously chipper at that hour.

"But you don't have to take my word for it," Geordi said brightly. "My guest this morning is none other than our favourite Transporter Chief, Miles O'Brien. He's here to talk about signs you should be aware of in a malfunctioning replicator."

"I already told you I'm not doing your ruddy show!" Miles snapped, off camera.

Geordi was broadcasting live over the ship's video communications system. It was all part of Commander Riker's plan to get caught up (and stay ahead) on the maintenance schedule.

The work was never truly done on a ship the size of the Enterprise.

Using the excitement surrounding the All-Around Challenge broadcasts, Commander Riker was banking on carrying that enthusiasm forward with a morning update.

It had not been entirely successful.

His attempts to combine this advice with entertainment had resulted in a haphazard melange of trombone solos, a mess of scientists fighting for their fifteen minutes of fame to argue for more lab time, and a special Fitness Tips with Worf segment.

The school's sporting activities had proven a surprising hit.

But Captain Picard Presents Literary Classics was exactly as banal as it sounded.

Tasha had taken to muting her tablet. She'd made an exception the night before in order to catch the highlights from the shinty league.

She had forgotten to mute it again after.

"I said no! I've got a full workload and then some. You think I want to waste my time teaching everyone and their gran how to change an intake filter?" Miles fumed.

Oh this should be good. She thought, reaching for her tablet.

"Chief!" Geordi pleaded.

"I said no!" Miles responded in a heated voice.

Tasha had to set down her Raktajino and buried her head against the table, giggling. She wasn't laughing at Geordi and Miles – rather the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

"We'll be right back," Geordi assured his audience.

The transmission cut to a presentation of slides on basic safety tips. Tasha hit the mute button and tossed her PADD back down on the table.

Just when it was starting to get good! She mused.

Devoid of her entertainment, Tasha turned her attention to setting up breakfast. She replicated a container of hot water and poured it into the teapot Data had obtained during their last trip to Earth.

Next she added real breakfast tea from the stash she kept in Data's quarters.

Replicated tea was adequate – but it didn't quite have the same satisfaction as the real thing.

Tasha then set the table for two. Lastly, she produced two plates loaded with tofu scramble, peanut butter toast, and sliced fruit.

She glanced over at the timepiece on the wall.

Tasha bit her lip and rocked her head side to side. If she strained her ears, she could hear Data humming in the lavvy. He was emptying his waste port – an activity Data preferred to handle in private.

Data's body was capable of breaking down the food and drink he consumed into all sorts of useful fuel for his body. It was a miraculous feature of his construction and helped to lubricate his biofunctions, fuel his power cell, and even contributed to the keratin necessary for follicle growth.

Normally his system only required limited intake of water and nutrients. Data could get all he needed without actually consuming meals.

A simple nutrient supplement and eight ounces of water was more than enough.

But Data enjoyed eating. He liked to experience new flavours and fusions, to grab a pint with friends, and to share meals with Tasha.

All that increased consumption meant additional time cleaning out his waste port. Whatever his body couldn't break down had to be discarded.

It was shortly after 06:00. It would take at least ten minutes for Data to ready himself.

Tasha decided it would be best to move the food back to the replicator tray. She activated the temperature-controlled stasis feature and settled in to sip her Raktajino while she waited.

Since she had few minutes to herself, Tasha decided it would be the perfect opportunity to check her progress on one rather important personal goal.

First Tasha checked to make sure Data was still occupied.

Then she tiptoed over to the computer terminal and conducted a quick body scan.

103.5 kg.

Tasha frowned. She was still more than twenty pounds underweight for her size. And she had more than forty pounds to go before she'd be back up to peak fighting condition.

Tasha sat back down at the table and pulled her necklace overhead. She removed the ring from the chain and slipped it onto her finger.

She held her hand out to study it. It was a beautiful piece of jewellery, far lovelier than anything Tasha Yar had ever expected to own.

The moonstone shimmered in the light with the slightest movement. The bone gave it an almost ethereal look.

And Data made it for me. Tasha mused as her face broke out into a broad smile.

It looked like it fit – provided she kept her hand upright.

The minute she tipped her hand, the ring slipped right off and fell onto the table.

Almost.

There was an advantage to delaying their nuptials. The longer they were forced to wait, the better the odds she would be able to wear her ring properly on that momentous day.

Tasha picked up the ring and slipped back onto the chain.

She was about to fasten it into place when Data came up from behind and caught her hands. He said nothing as he secured the clasp.

Data guided the ring back to the front and then pressed a soft kiss against Tasha's temple.

"Soon," he assured her.

"Not soon enough," Tasha replied with a sigh.

She poured them both a cup of tea and slid one across the table to Data. He caught her hand before Tasha could pull away.

"The next time you slip that ring on, it will not come off again," Data said with a smile.

Suddenly, his face fell.

"I only meant to imply that it will be a joyous moment. That was not a commentary on expectations. Nor do I intend to imply that you should be forced to remain in this relationship should you ever choose to terminate it," Data added quickly.

Tasha just laughed as she turned back to her breakfast.

"I think there's very little chance of that," she teased. "When Targs sing opera."

Data's brow furrowed.

"Tasha, Klingon Targs do not possess the vocal ability to produce music, let alone the capacity to learn or perform opera," Data said.

"It's an expression. You know, like 'when pigs fly' or 'a hot day on Andoria.' It means something is highly improbable," Tasha said.

"Ah! I see," Data said with a small gasp of wonder.

He denoted the phrase to memory, adding to a growing list of expressions he liked to employ in conversation.

---

It was a routine day. Mapping missions relied heavily on the work of the Sciences division. The Stellar Cartography, Geology, Astronomy, and the Data Science departments were all working overtime as they analysed probe data, poured over star charts, and studied drone footage.

Normally a mapping mission of this nature would mean a fleet of shuttles coming and going as different departments sought to obtain samples and conduct scientific survey missions on all the different planets and moons in the system.

But Captain Picard remained steadfast in his order to restrict travel.

That meant all of the departments were relying on the probes, drones, and sensors to collect information.

As a result, Engineering was saddled with extra work to keep all the equipment functional – and that was on top of the maintenance schedule.

A ship the size of Enterprise required constant work to stay running at peak efficiency.

And since Data oversaw both Sciences and Operations, his hands were full.

He'd spent all morning meeting with different departmental heads under his command. There more than three dozen new requisitions that needed review. And a dispute between lab scheduling had led to a minor scuffle between the Exovolcanology and Seismology departments.

Data was grateful for the reprieve the morning briefing offered.

He was on his way up to the Observation Lounge when the lift slid open.

Miles and Geordi stepped on. They had yet to resolve their disagreement.

"It's five minutes!" Geordi argued.

"And I told you no," Miles insisted.

Geordi crossed his arms, shaking his head slowly.

"Computer, Bridge," Geordi ordered. "Hey Data."

"Hello, Geordi, Chief," Data replied.

"You just don't know how to take no for an answer," Miles said.

Geordi scoffed.

"Oh, please," he said. "You're just afraid of being on camera."

"I am not!" Miles barked.

Data watched the entire argument with fascination. He was always amused by the fact that Miles and Geordi considered one another best friends – and still argued like no one he knew.

"What if we recorded it in advance?" Geordi suggested.

"I told you, I'm not doing it," Miles asserted.

"One show," Geordi said with a casual shrug. "What could possibly be the harm?"

"When pigs fly," Miles responded.

There was a sharp intake of breath.

"When targs sing opera," Data said, excited for the chance to employ his newfound phrase.

"Huh?"

Miles and Geordi put the all-stop on their argument and turned to Data in confusion.

"Commander?" Miles prompted.

"When pigs fly. A hot day on Andoria. Not in one million years. A night of Vulcan stand-up comedy," Data rattled off.

He paused and looked expectantly for approval from his comrades.

"That's what I'm saying!" Miles said, slapping him on the shoulder before turning back to Geordi. "Anyways, you might as well ask somebody else because I'm not doing it."

"I can make it an order," Geordi threatened.

"Just try it," Miles replied in a warning tone.

For all their bluster, Data knew they'd be back in Ten Forward in a few hours thick as thieves once again.

The lift doors opened.

"Don't make me talk to Keiko!" Geordi hollered, chasing him off the lift.

Miles stopped and whipped around.

"You do and it will be the last time we ever share a pint," Miles remarked. "That's low. Even for you."

Geordi realised he'd gone a step too far.

"Chief! Chief, wait! We can talk about this!" Geordi pleaded.

---

"Did you get my write-up on the incident between Seevers and Eubanks?" Tasha inquired.

Tasha was referring to the interdepartmental scuffle. She had been the one to break up the argument between the two departments just moments after it had turned physical.

"I left it on your desk. I told them their disciplinary action would rest in your hands. But if you'd rather-"

"I received your report. I will see to the matter," Data assured her as they slipped into their customary seats around the long briefing table.

"Good morning, everyone," Captain Picard said as he swept into the room.

"Good morning, sir," Deanna said.

"Sir," Worf nodded.

"Captain," Data said, greeting him.

Jean-Luc took his seat at the head of the table.

"Now then, I'd like to move item 3F on the agenda to the top. I heard there was an incident?" Captain Picard prompted.

He glanced over to Data in hopes of explanation.

"Yes, sir. The matter-"

Data was cut off by an urgent hail from the Bridge where Lieutenant Hawk was temporarily in the Command Chair so the Captain could conduct the briefing with senior staff.

"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt," Hawk said. "We're receiving an urgent hail that I think you'll want to hear. Shall we patch it in?"

"Please," Picard responded.

Beverly gripped the armrest in anticipation of unwelcome news from the Yamato. She clutched it so tightly that her hand went white.

The message contained both video and audio. It was an old general emergency frequency used by civilian Federation entities to relay information on weather patterns, solar phenomenon, warnings of mercenary activity and the like.

Most civilian Federation organisations had discontinued use of the frequency decades earlier in favour of more advanced technology and secure channels.

A young woman came onscreen. She appeared terrified.

"My name is Kareen Brianon. I'm an assistant to Doctor Ira Graves," she said.

A collective gasp sounded around the table.

"We need medical assistance. Please, we need a doctor. I'm transmitting the coordinates of our location with this message. To anyone out there that can hear this – please hurry," she pleaded.

There was brief glitch before the transmission played again.

"It's on a repeating frequency," Worf realised aloud.

"Viewscreen off," Picard ordered.

"Ira Graves. There's a name you don't hear every day," Commander Riker said.

Astonishment was an understatement.

"He disappeared years ago," Geordi said.

"Not unlike another cyberneticist," Beverly said with a knowing look.

"Seems to be a pattern," Picard remarked.

All eyes settled on Data.

"I cannot offer an explanation," Data said.

Graves had disappeared nearly a decade before Data's activation. The only knowledge he had about the elusive cyberneticist came from third-party sources and Federation records.

Deanna could sense the Captain was weighing his options.

"Captain?" she inquired.

"We have standing orders. Admiral Quinn may be missing. But I fully intend to honour the spirit of his orders that we avoid unnecessary diversions," Picard declared. "This is exactly the kind of side mission that puts us at risk."

Everyone looked around to one another, wordlessly determining who would be the first to fall on their sword to push back.

Beverly had no such qualms.

"Ira Graves is arguably one the greatest human minds of the last hundred years," Beverly contended. "We now know he's still out there and in need of aid. Aid we can easily provide."

Jean-Luc shot her a look.

"We don't even know what the problem is," Picard reminded her.

"So we'll take precautions," Beverly countered.

"I'm not offering an opinion for or against this mission," Riker started to say.

He wanted to make that abundantly clear.

"But it looks like the coordinates are a planet that's in near isolation. Remote. Off the beaten path of known shipping lanes," Riker advised, studying his tablet.

He looked up and shrugged.

The location was well outside raider territory and a good distance from the Cardassian border.

"It seems reasonably safe," Riker said. "Sir, it's more than six days from the closest supply depot for a typical ship."

"Seems like the perfectly isolated spot for a rogue genius to hide away," Geordi remarked.

"Or a trap," Worf said dryly.

That was exactly what Jean-Luc was hoping to avoid. He glanced down the table and met Tasha's eyes.

"I need at least an hour to review the area before I can offer an opinion," Tasha said.

She would need to consult a star chart and cross reference known threats with the latest Federation bulletins from the area.

"In one hour then," Picard said.

Beverly was stunned.

"Then you'll consider it?" she asked.

"If Lieutenant Yar, in her expert opinion, believes we can do this without risk to the ship," Picard agreed before adding a caveat. "And I expect our Security Chief will come up with a plan to minimise the possibility of any Romulan interference."

Why did I open my big mouth? Tasha thought.

"In the meantime, let's see if we can make contact with this Kareen Brianon and find out more information," Picard ordered. "And Mr Worf, I want you to try and contact any other ships that may be closer. They'll be in a better position to help."

Captain Picard dismissed the team and Beverly made a beeline for Tasha.

She looped her arm through Tasha's on their way out into the corridor.

"So I was thinking that a level-two medical-"

Tasha stopped walking.

"I agreed to look into it. That's all," Tasha said.

She knew she had to set those expectations from the start before Beverly got carried away.

"Tasha, as a medical professional I have an obligation to provide assistance," Beverly insisted.

"But not at the risk of everyone onboard. For all we know, this could be a ploy to infiltrate the Enterprise," Tasha argued.

Beverly rolled her eyes.

"Is everything a Romulan plot now? Is that what we've become?" she asked.

Tasha's face softened.

"I won't put the ship in danger," Tasha said.

"Then let me go alone," Beverly offered.

"That's not going to happen," Tasha remarked.

Beverly gripped her forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Just… consider it. If it comes to it," Beverly said.

She would do absolutely anything for her patients – and that was what scared Tasha.

---

Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate 41456.4. The Enterprise has received a distress call from a woman claiming to be the assistant of cyberneticist Ira Graves. For years, he's lived in near isolation on a remote planet, devoting his full attention to research. One hour ago, we monitored a plea for help, requesting urgent medical aid.

I can only hope that Captain Picard will approve diverting course to Graves's world.

And that we can reach him in time.

---

"I recognise this isn't an easy decision, sir," Tasha acknowledged. "But I think we can do this in a way that minimises the risk."

Upon further study of the location of Graves's world, Tasha determined that Commander Riker's initial assessment was spot on.

It was isolated, located well off heavily trafficked routes, and far from the Cardassian and Romulan borders.

"I would advise we beam down a small team. When they return, we'll conduct immediate full-body scans to ensure there aren't any stowaways," Tasha advised.

"And there's nothing to indicate this is a trap?" Picard questioned.

Tasha shook her head.

"No, sir," she replied. "I'm confident this is a legitimate request."

Worf had confirmed other vessels had received the same hail. To be certain, he had checked with a variety of sources that were in communications range – Starfleet ships, Federation trade vessels, and even a Canamarissian cruise ship.

All had picked up on the same transmission, though only the Enterprise had the speed to reach Graves quickly.

"Data did some checking as well, sir," Tasha said. "He found a cargo & crew manifest from what appears to be Graves's departure."

"Really?" Picard asked in surprise.

"Mmm hmm," Tasha answered.

It was a helluva find and could only have come from Data's investigative skills.

"It seems there was a Carter Brianon that originally worked for Graves. He's listed on a manifest from twenty-four years ago along with an infant daughter," Tasha said as she handed over the tablet.

Jean-Luc studied the tablet for a moment before he looked up. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Beverly was holding her breath, her fingers crossed at her sides.

"Well, I'm convinced," Picard said.

"Captain, need I remind you that Graves is one of the finest scientific minds of our day? We not only have a moral obligation to save him, but think of what this means for all of the Federation?" Beverly argued.

"Yes," Picard agreed.

"We have to go," Beverly went on.

"I said you could," Picard countered as he threw his hands up in the air.

Beverly froze. She cleared her throat and composed herself.

"Well in that case, thank you, Captain," she said.

Tasha and Captain Picard exchanged a smirk after Beverly left to prepare.

"Promise me you will keep an eye on her down there?" Picard asked with a hint of agitation.

---

At warp nine, it would take eighteen hours to reach Graves's world.

Data had a mountain of work metaphorically piled on his desk.

But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen.

His search for clues about Ira Graves had led Data down a rabbit hole. Unfortunately, the ship's computer wasn't able to work as fast as Data's brain.

Or his hands.

Data was so absorbed in his research that he missed Tasha coming in after the end of her shift.

She paused at the edge of the wall where it cut away to his workstation. Tasha watched in silence as Data worked.

After a few seconds, he became aware of her presence.

"Oh don't let me stop you," she said, turning to leave.

"It is for the best. I am afraid that a personal interest has derailed my work this afternoon," Data said.

Tasha wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement, but she knew Data well enough to understand where his mind was headed.

"You're thinking about him," Tasha said. "About Soong."

"Yes," Data answered.

Data had spent twenty-six years contemplating his existence, longing for a sense of belonging. And when he'd finally learned the truth of his origins, it was less than the stellar homecoming he'd dreamed of.

In fact, his experience on Omicron Theta was a bitter reminder that Data was not human.

The fate of Doctor Noonian Soong remained unknown. In all likelihood, he had perished along with the rest of the colony at the hands of the Crystalline Entity.

The only thing left of Soong's legacy was Data.

And Lore. Data thought.

Truth be told, there was one other thing left of Soong – his logs.

The mission to Omicron Theta had revealed an isolinear chip containing more than three years' worth of personal logs from Soong.

Data had spent hours combing through them in an attempt to understand Soong. He was desperate for any sort of connection to the man that was his father.

Tasha didn't think it was healthy. She had listened to enough of them to formulate strong opinions about Soong.

He may have created Data, but he was far from a father.

"You are upset," Data said, noting her stiff posture.

"I just don't think it's right to dwell on it," Tasha said.

She sat down on the edge of his workstation.

"I know you want answers," she went on. "But I don't know what's left out there. He's gone. And he wasn't very kind to you."

Tasha knew first-hand what Data was after – he was chasing the dream of a home that didn't exist.

And that frightened her.

The last time Data had allowed himself to get caught up in it, he'd very nearly cost them all their lives. Lore recognised that in Data. With his trusting nature and insecurity, he was ripe for manipulation.

"I simply wish to understand the man that created me," Data explained.

He tapped the screen and turned the display toward Tasha.

"I have been scanning through ship manifests from Omicron Theta. I am trying to establish a timeline for Soong's arrival and anyone he may have encountered," Data shared. "I got the idea from my research on Ira Graves."

Data was hoping to create a list of names. It was possible there were people out there who knew or worked with Soong at some point and had left Omicron Theta prior to the colony's destruction.

"Well, I'm going to the poker game tonight," Tasha declared. "But I understand if you want to stay here and continue your research."

She was tiptoeing on a delicate path, balancing her desire to support Data against her need to speak up for fear that he would wind up hurt again.

"I forgot that we have changed poker to Wednesday nights," Data said.

"Yeah, it was time to shake things up," Tasha said. "You know, a change is as good as a rest and what not."

The whole team was desperate to shake the funk of being confined.

"Speaking of which, I need to pop down to my quarters and get ready," Tasha said.

Tasha gave him a quick peck and then hopped down from the desk.

"Meet you there?" she asked on her way out.

"Yes," Data answered.

---

"Deal," Worf insisted.

"I promised we'd wait for Data," Riker said.

"He is our best dealer," Deanna reminded the table.

Will shuffled the cards for a third time as Beverly used the replicator to produce another bowl of popcorn. The minutes ticked on while they waited.

"What could possibly be holding him up?" Miles asked.

There had been no additional emergency transmissions – just the same plea for help over and over again. All attempts to contact Graves's World had resulted in nothing but static.

Geordi theorised that they must have blocked transmission as soon as they set their message to automatically repeat.

"Data radioed me earlier. Said he had something he wanted us all to see," Riker announced.

Tasha's heart sank.

"Look, don't say anything but he's in the midst of a rather personal research project," Tasha shared. "This is very important to him."

Deanna could sense Tasha was feeling conflicted.

"Tasha?" she prompted.

Tasha shrugged.

"He's just trying to figure out who is, where he belongs," Tasha said as she looked around the table. "We've all been there!"

"Of course," Riker said.

"It's perfectly normal," Beverly added.

"Mmm," Geordi nodded in agreement. "And he's got a lot more to contemplate that we ever did."

"Aye," Miles chimed in. "Must be hell trying to figure all that existential stuff out in the middle of this."

Tasha immediately regretted saying anything.

"When he gets here please just act normal. Be yourselves," Tasha urged. "He doesn't need any help being made to feel like an outsider, alright?"

It was not a moment too soon.

The door slid open, and Data stepped inside.

"I apologise for my tardiness," Data said.

Tasha nearly fell out of her chair.

"Whoa," Riker exclaimed.

Worf muttered a Klingon word of shock under his breath. Miles choked on his pint.

Geordi was the first to find his voice.

"Did you damage your face, Data?" Geordi asked.

Data cocked his head to the side and frowned.

"It is a beard, Geordi. Facial hair. A fine, full, dignified beard," Data explained.

And full it was.

Stretching from ear to ear complete with a small ducktail in the front (just big enough for grabbing), this was no ordinary stubble.

"I have decided to change my appearance. After all, a change is as good as a rest," Data said.

Deanna bit back a smirk. She was having a hard time hiding her amusement.

"After conducting an extensive search, I have settled on trying this," Data explained.

In the brief interlude since his conversation with Tasha, Data had skimmed through thousands of possible ideas including hairstyles, colours, incorporating stripes into his wardrobe, facial piercings, hats, and even Pretrentian walking sticks.

In the end, he had narrowed it down to three possible choices: a beard, a device called a belt with an oversized buckle, or a fashion fad known as the 'leisure suit.'

According to sources, it had once been a popular trend on Earth.

But the beard seemed to be the least shocking of the three. So Data had decided to test the water by sporting a small change.

"It is my understanding that beards command respect and project thoughtfulness and dignity," Data said. "Opinions?"

"It's very different," Deanna said in the best supportive tone she could muster.

Data's face lit up.

"And when I stroke it, do I not appear more intellectual?" Data asked.

Miles's last sip shot straight out of his mouth.

He sputtered and coughed before recovering.

"Wrong tube," he lied as he beat his fist against his chest.

"The beard is an ancient and proud tradition," Riker said with an approving nod.

"Some of the most distinguished men in history have worn beards," Geordi added.

"And yours, my friend, would put them all to shame," Riker said.

Data seemed pleased with this commentary, and he took up his usual seat to the left of Chief O'Brien.

"Most intriguing," Data said.

He reached for the cards and began to shuffle.

"I did look to historical sources. For a time, I considered the muttonchop look," Data confessed.

This time it was Tasha's turn to choke on her drink.

Worf shot her a look.

"Klingons consider beards to be a symbol of courage and strength," Worf said.

True to her nature, Beverly wasn't afraid to offer her own take.

"You look very handsome, Data," she began. "But personally, I've always found beards to be nothing more than an affectation."

Riker scoffed.

"Doctor-"

"They're a symbol of manhood," Miles said. "Virility and the like."

"A sign of strength," Geordi suggested.

Beverly responded with a nonchalant shrug.

"And of course women aren't supposed to grow beards. It upsets beauty expectations," Beverly remarked.

Will Riker bristled.

"For your information, I once dated a woman with a beard," Riker said. "She was lovely."

Deanna knew Will was telling the truth.

"I mean this in the kindest possible sense, you aren't like most men," Deanna said.

Will's face soured.

"I just mean you're someone that-"

"Just because I appreciate a variety of body types doesn't mean my opinion is any less valid," Riker asserted.

They were straying from the topic at hand. Data hadn't meant to start a debate. Nor did he mean to dominate the conversation.

But he was desperately seeking input on his latest attempt to better emulate human behaviour.

"My friends, please," Data interjected. "Do you like or dislike it? Perhaps I should try something else?"

"I think you look very smart," Geordi said.

"Handsome," Miles added, raising his glass to Data.

"Virile," Worf said.

Worf hissed as Tasha kicked his leg under the table.

"I meant striking," Worf corrected.

"And you meant it?" Data asked, scanning the faces of his comrades for any sign of their intentions. "You are not merely saying this for my benefit. You know that my feelings cannot be hurt by-"

"If you like it, we like it," Geordi assured him.

---

Tasha sat in bed scrolling through the highlights from the Parrises Squares finals while Data took his time in the lavvy as he readied himself for bed.

After brushing his duranium teeth, Data paused to study his reflection. He turned his head from side to side, analysing every angle of his face.

Data wasn't sure what to think. In some ways, he enjoyed his new look. It did make him appear more distinguished. At the same time, he was consciously aware of the beard's presence on his face thanks to all of the countless sensors in his bioplast.

It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable – but it was 'ever present.'

His friends had seemed receptive enough once the initial shock had worn away.

Though Data couldn't help but wonder if they were simply offering support because they were his friends. He needed an honest opinion – but he wasn't about to go ask Captain Picard.

Not at this hour. Data thought.

Resigned that he would need more time to determine an opinion on the matter, Data turned off the light and headed for bed.

He crawled under the covers and rolled over to face Tasha. She had no sooner put her tablet down on the nightstand when she felt Data's lips on her jawline accompanied by an unusual sensation.

Data immediately stopped.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Tasha assured him.

"Hmm," Data responded, raising his eyebrows once before diving to resume his tender assault on her neck.

Tasha shrieked.

"Data!" she protested.

Data froze.

"Why are you laughing?" Data asked.

His eyes began to flit back and forth.

"It is the beard," Data realised. "I will remove it."

"No, no," Tasha said, catching his hand.

Data's brow wrinkled as he stared hard at his lover.

"But you find it humorous. That was not the intent," Data said.

Tasha bit her lip.

"No, sweetheart," she said, cupping his face. "I'm so sorry. I promise I don't think it's a joke. You look very handsome."

Data eyed her sceptically.

"You were laughing," he repeated.

Tasha dropped her eyes. Her face flushed.

"Because it tickles," she confessed.

The steady rhythm of Data's power cell skipped a beat.

"I didn't want to say anything because I knew you would- argh!"

Data lunged.

Tasha tried to roll out of the wall, but Data caught her just before she slipped off the bed.

"No!" Tasha squealed. "Data! Data, it's not fair!"

This was one instance in which Data had no such qualms about using his superior strength to subdue another.

Data relished in the sweet sound of laughter as he rubbed his beard against Tasha's face. It wasn't long before the wrestling and fit of giggles turned tender.

"You know I love you, right?" Tasha asked as she stroked his beard.

"You have stated so on numerous occasions," Data replied, staring down at her. "A total of one thousand seven hundred and one times to be precise."

He could remember every time she uttered such a phrase whether it be in the moments they were snuggled on the sofa swapping sushi rolls, accompanied by a quick peck on his way out the door, or whispered privately in the dark during their most intimate moments.

"I think it's wonderful that you're trying new things," Tasha said.

Truly she did.

Yet she was compelled to make one thing clear.

"But you don't have to change. Not for me, not for anyone – except yourself," Tasha said. "If you like the beard, then keep it. You do look rather hunky."

She chuckled and gave him a quick kiss.

"Whatever makes you happy," Tasha said. "Just promise me you'll be true to yourself?"

It was a throwback to the earliest days of their relationship – and the only thing Tasha had ever asked for in their relationship.

"Because you're a pretty remarkable person," Tasha said as she poked the tip of his nose.

Person.

All of Data's superior strength melted away as he relaxed, resting his head against her chest. Tasha saw him as a person.

She had seen him as a person – even before he recognised it in himself.

Data shifted so he could look at Tasha.

"I promise," he said. "To thine own self be true."

The corner of his lip curled upward ever so slightly.

"At least, until pigs fly," Data teased.

Data buried his face against Tasha, clutching tight to the seam of her tee as she shook with laughter.

---

When Tasha awoke the next morning she was surprised to find a beardless Data in her bed.

"Data?" she inquired.

"I found that my dream programme was continually disrupted by the knowledge of the beard," Data explained.

No matter how hard Data tried to suppress his sensors, they had a nasty way of creeping into the forefront of his neural net.

He surmised humans did not share the same level of awareness.

"So you're saying you couldn't sleep?" she asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Data responded.

"Mmmm, you poor thing," Tasha said as she snuggled up against Data.

"Someday I would like to revisit the matter," Data shared. "But for now I will be content to remain as I am."

He sighed.

"Though I must admit, it was fun while it lasted," Data said.

"You know, we could do the same thing we did last night tonight," Tasha suggested. "Sans beard."

Data blinked in confusion. Tasha could practically hear him thinking.

"But Tasha, the point of-"

Data suddenly stopped.

"Oh!" he realised. "You mean-"

"Uh huh."

"Oh," Data repeated. "Oh, I see."

Tasha bit back a smirk as she listened to Data get closer and closer.

"Are you referring to the poker game or the-"

Data paused again.

"Oh," he gasped.

Tasha sat up in bed sporting a satisfied smirk. She took pride in seeing the bashful expression on Data's face and knowing she was the cause of it.

Tasha leaned in close, hovering just inches above Data's lips.

"I have to go on duty now," she said in a low, playful voice.

She planted a quick peck on his lips.

"Have a good shift, Commander," she teased.

---

"Has there been any response from Graves's World?" Picard asked.

"Nothing ,sir. Not since the initial communication," Worf replied.

"They send out a plea for help, then cut off all transmission so they can't tell if there's any help on the way. Doesn't make much sense," Riker grumbled.

"Doesn't help us plan either," Beverly added.

It was difficult to respond to emergency medical request when there was no information on the cause.

"Ensign, what's our ETA?" Picard asked.

"Forty-six minutes to orbit, sir," Wesley answered without looking up from the helm.

They were flying at warp nine to reach the remote planet as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, there was a blinking light on Tasha's console.

"Sir, we're receiving a transmission. The same frequency match for the previous transmission from Graves's world," Tasha reported.

"On screen," Picard ordered.

Tasha tapped her console and transferred the message to the main viewer.

It was the same young woman as before. Only this time, she appeared distraught.

"She's terrified," Deanna thought aloud while observing the woman's behaviour.

"If anyone can hear me, please send a doctor. Things are getting worse. We have no way off this planet. Our next supply ship is not due for another eight weeks," she pleaded.

She turned and looked off camera, almost like she was checking to ensure she was alone.

"I don't think he'll make it that long," she whispered. "Please."

Suddenly, she was overcome with a look of fear. There was a brief pause before the transmission terminated.

"Try and raise her," Picard ordered. "Tell them we're close."

Tasha tried to send a message back using both normal Federation channels and the outdated emergency broadcast frequency Graves's world was transmitting from.

It was no use.

"No good, sir," Tasha informed the Bridge. "I can't seem to get a message through."

Data turned around in his seat at the Operations console.

"It is possible the planet has an orbital defensive system designed to create interference in order to hide the presence of Graves and his team," Data theorised.

A small research facility wouldn't have the kind of defensive technologies shared by larger worlds.

"Such a device would also block subspace communications signals," Data explained.

"I'm more worried about what scared her," Riker commented. "Something or someone came into that room. And it was enough to frighten her."

He had a point.

"It's possible that her emotions are due to whatever medical emergency they are experiencing on the planet," Deanna offered. "We know from the records that there were few people permanently stationed there. That kind of isolation can lead to strong emotional bonds."

"We're getting another signal," Tasha announced.

She frowned as she studied the screen, expanding sensors in an effort to pinpoint the origin.

"It's not from Graves's world," Tasha said, confused.

The initial broadcast was followed by an emergency code. Tasha didn't wait for Captain Picard's order – she immediately turned it up.

"Audio only. The signal is weak. It's an emergency communique," Tasha said.

"Mayday! Mayday! USS-"

There was a burst of static that cut through the message.

"Requesting emergency assistance. Outer hull breached. Environmental systems compromised. Forty-three dead in the drive section. Adrift and losing integrity. Mayday! Mayday!"

The Bridge fell silent.

A collective sense of foreboding descended upon the crew.

Emergency calls were always met with a sombre sense of apprehension. The concern of the Romulan conspiracy that had encircled them only added to that ominous feeling.

"Your orders, sir?" Riker prompted.

Captain Picard shifted in his seat as he mulled over this latest crisis.

"Captain, I show the Constantinople in that general vicinity," Wesley chimed in, hoping to offer information relevant to the decision. "She's a transport ship used to ferry settlers."

"An outer hull breach would likely have been caused by an internal explosion," Worf added. "That particular class of transport ship is known to be susceptible to deuterium holding tank degradation."

"At maximum warp we could be there within the hour," Data advised.

Given how far they were from known shipping routes, the Enterprise was the Constantinople's only hope for rescue.

But two crises? In the same area? Picard thought.

It was all too coincidental for Jean-Luc's taste.

"Captain, we could stabilise their hull breach through use of the shield grid. We can provide power through a transfer and even complete the repairs without ever setting foot on their vessel," Tasha said, weighing in.

It would significantly minimise the risk of any Romulan infiltration.

"And if we arrive and there are three Romulan warbirds waiting for us?" Picard asked, posing the question to the Bridge.

"We warp out," Worf replied simply.

Though matched armament for armament with the D'deridex-class warbird, the Enterprise had the advantage of speed.

"Sir, records show there are over two-thousand people on that transport ship," Data said.

It was like his crew was imploring him to go – even in spite of the danger.

Jean-Luc turned to Beverly.

"And what of Graves?" Picard asked.

"He's one man," Beverly answered. "While I may regret that, we can't turn our back on all those people."

"Captain," Wesley said.

He whipped around in his seat.

"Why don't we execute a long-range transport? The course to the Constantinople will take us within range of Graves's world. We could come out of warp just long enough to energise the beam."

Jean-Luc smirked.

It was precisely that kind of flexible thinking that had endeared the young Acting Ensign to Captain Picard.

"Data, you'll be in command of the team that's going to Graves's world," Picard said. "I recognise this is a rather sharp deviation from our previous plan."

The team had assembled a rigid set of protocols in short order to facilitate the mission to save Graves.

"Number One, Lieutenant Yar, I need you to remain onboard. If we are warping into a Romulan trap, I want you on the Bridge," Picard ordered.

Jean-Luc tapped his combadge.

"Engineering," Picard said. "Mr La Forge, Mr O'Brien. We're preparing to execute a near warp transport. I'd like you two to handle it. Please report to Transporter Room Three immediately."

---

Ten minutes later, the team was assembled in the Transporter Room. Data, Worf, Deanna, Beverly, and Lieutenant Oliver Adams would head to Graves's world in hopes of locating and saving the elusive Ira Graves.

Normally such an away team would be led by Commander Riker.

It was his duty as First Officer.

But under the circumstances, Captain Picard wanted to keep Riker aboard.

That meant Data was in command.

Typically, Tasha would also accompany such an away team. But she was confident in Worf to oversee the safety of the others and bring them home.

Tasha watched as Worf checked to ensure the knife in his boot was secure.

"We don't know what's going on down there. No need to take any chances," Worf said as he straightened his trouser leg back down.

"Right," Tasha agreed.

"Be careful with that," Beverly instructed.

Beverly kept a watchful eye on Data as he bent over to pick up a large case that housed a portable incubator unit.

Since the team was expecting to assist the Constantinople remotely, Beverly felt her skills were better off serving on the mission to Graves's world.

She trusted Doctor Selar and her team to oversee the transmission of any needed medical supplies.

"Do you want me to just beam down the whole of Sickbay?" Miles teased.

He was adjusting the transporter to accommodate such a large transfer of goods and people all in one trip.

There was no telling what ailment, injury, or pathogen they would face when they reached Graves's world. So Beverly had come prepared for any contingency.

The entire team was outfitted in protective EV suits, and Beverly had packed a library of treatments and equipment.

"Now remember, this is a near warp transport so the effects are going to feel a little strange," Geordi warned.

"What do you mean?" Deanna asked, concerned.

"You'll see," Riker said.

His tone was dismissive, and Deanna could sense that was his intention – not because he meant to downplay her fear but rather because Will saw this as another example of Deanna's inexperience in the technical aspects of the job.

"It's fine, Counsellor," Geordi said.

"No, wait a minute. I don't understand. What does this entail?" Deanna asked.

"Unlike normal transporter functions, the Enterprise will send our signal to the designated coordinates without manual oversight," Data began to explain.

In essence, it was a bit like the ancient practice of throwing an object from a moving automobile. There would be no way to know if they hit their target because the vehicle would have already moved on.

"The ship will drop out of warp just long enough to send the signal. 1.78 seconds to be precise," Data went on. "It requires both careful timing and precision."

Deanna's face contorted.

"Our bodies will be travelling further than normal transporter parameters – the very edge of the unit's functionality. And because the Enterprise will immediately resume her journey, there will be no additional power boost to aid in the rematerialisation," Data continued.

Miles could sense Deanna didn't follow.

"It means you may feel a little tug," he said, attempting to translate.

"Tug?" she asked as her eyebrows hit the ceiling.

Miles shrugged.

"Aye. It may feel like your body is meeting some resistance. And well, that's because it is," he said.

It did little to ease Deanna's fear.

"It's safe. You'll be perfectly fine," Riker assured her.

"Statistically a near warp transport is four point seven times more likely to result in a fatality than an ordinary transport," Data rattled off.

He quickly realised his error.

"Though the odds are extremely low," he added, hoping to cover.

"Tick tock," Riker said, reminding them all they were on a very tight deadline.

"Look, you'll probably feel a bit queasy. And a little disoriented. But I promise you, it's safe," Geordi said softly. "And no one will judge you if you choose to step down from the platform."

Deanna was still feeling a bit nervous about the prospect of such a risky rematerialisation, but she appreciated the honesty of her companions.

"Now or never," Tasha said.

"I'll go," Deanna said.

"Good luck," Tasha said.

She caught Data's gaze and flashed him a quick smile before adding, "to all of you."

"Energise," Riker ordered.

Miles activated the transporter. The team, along with their mountain of equipment, vanished in the shimmering sound that accompanied dematerialisation.

"Bridge, the away team has disembarked," Riker said.

The remaining crew felt a familiar lurch as the ship opened a new warp bubble.

"So you think he'll come back with a moustache? Ooo, maybe a navel ring?" Riker asked, teasing Tasha as they walked back to the Bridge.

Tasha just shook her head, laughing. The two stepped onto the lift.

"Bridge," Riker ordered. "What about an eyebrow ring?"

"I think if the German reggae, proto-Andorian sculpture phase, and calabash pipe weren't enough to scare me off, there's not much left," Tasha quipped.

"You never know, Data might come back a changed man," Riker said.

"I don't think there's anything Data could do to shock me anymore," Tasha replied as the turbolift doors closed.

---

Deanna looked down at her feet.

She had always teased her mother for doing that whenever she travelled by transporter. Lwaxana frequently made noises about the need to check that she was all there.

But now that she had experienced a near warp transport, Deanna felt compelled she was all there.

"This might sound strange, but for a moment I thought I was stuck in that wall," Deanna confessed.

"For a moment, you were," Worf said.

They had rematerialised inside a facility that looked like a home. It was a large room full of personal furnishings.

There was a large, cutaway window that overlooked a pristine garden.

It was eerily quiet.

In spite of their beautiful surroundings, the silence was unsettling.

Data, Worf, and Beverly already had their tricorders out scanning the room for any information, threats, and airborne contaminants.

"We should conduct a search of the immediate area to locate Kareen Brianon or Doctor Graves," Data instructed.

"No need, Commander," Worf said.

Kareen had wandered into the room.

She threw her hands up in the universal sign of surrender.

"Please don't hurt us! We don't have any weapons!" she pleaded.

Data realised their EV suits were likely the cause of this panic.

"Doctor, with your permission?" Data requested.

"I detect no known airborne pathogens. It's safe," Beverly said.

The five-person team detached their helmets.

"Hello," Data said, greeting her.

"It's alright," Deanna said in a soothing voice. "We've come to help."

Kareen slowly approached them.

"You heard me?" she asked.

"Yes. We're from the starship Enterprise," Beverly explained.

Kareen seemed confused.

"Are you Breen?" she inquired.

Data and Worf exchanged a glance.

"The suits," Worf said.

Deanna shook her head.

"No. We're with Starfleet. We monitored your distress call, but we couldn't establish a connection to respond," Deanna said.

"These suits are just a precaution. We weren't sure what we might find," Beverly explained.

"I'm so sorry," Kareen apologised.

The team began to remove their heavy protection suits.

"I didn't mean to cause you extra work," she said. "I just couldn't take the chance."

"What chance?" Deanna asked.

A sliding door flew open, and a grizzled older man swept into the room.

"The chance that I might find out someone was coming," he barked.

He wagged a disapproving finger at Kareen.

"Kareen knew full well that I would not be pleased to put it mildly," he said, chastising her.

Kareen's lip began to quiver as she wrung her hands.

"I had no choice," she sobbed. "I refuse to stand by and watch you deteriorate!"

Data's keen eyes picked up on a slight tremble in the man's hands. Beverly had noticed it too.

"What symptoms have you noticed?" she asked.

"He has pain, shortness of breath, weakness," Kareen shared. "He doesn't take care of himself."

"Ridiculous! I'm as healthy as a Rigelian ox!" the man protested.

"He's not himself," Kareen went on, ignoring his bluster. "His temper is out of control. He.."

Kareen paused, uncertain if she should continue.

"Miss?" Lieutenant Adams prompted.

"Cognitive decline," she said. "Sometimes it's like he's not all there."

"Nonsense!" the man roared.

"Ira, please! Let them help you," Kareen pleaded.

Ira.

It was confirmation this man was the famed Ira Graves. He was different than Data had expected, older and less distinguished. In fact, he came across as brash and crusty. And if his clothes were any indication, Miss Brianon's assessment on the lack of self-care was obvious.

Data could tell it had been a few days since this man had bathed. While humans normally tried to dress in a presentable manner, Graves seemed utterly unperturbed by the large curry stain on the front of his shirt.

Beverly stepped forward with her tricorder and plastered on a friendly face.

"I'm a doctor, my name is Beverly," she said, introducing herself. "We're here from Starfleet."

"No offence, but I don't want you touching me in any way. It's no secret that I don't like people much, and I like doctors even less," Graves said.

For an old man, he was quick. He dodged her attempt to get close and made a graceful beeline to the other side of the room.

"That's funny, I thought doctors were people," Deanna said.

She was trying to use humour as an approach to earn Graves's trust.

"Then you're wrong!" Graves bellowed.

He stopped and took a series of heavy breaths, holding the wall for support as he composed himself. And then something changed. His hold demeanour shifted.

He stopped to look Beverly up and down.

"Although I will admit, for a doctor you're not a bad looking woman," Graves said. "I've always had a thing for redheads."

Beverly's stomach turned.

Graves sauntered over in her direction. He was halfway there when his attention fell on Deanna.

"Well, well, well," he growled. "What have we got here? Another lovely specimen of womanhood."

"I thought you don't like people?" Deanna threw back playfully.

She was no fan of his behaviour. But Deanna saw an advantage to allow Beverly the opportunity she needed.

Deanna permitted Graves to take hold of her hand and bring it to his lips.

"Women aren't people. They're women," Graves declared before pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

Data opened his mouth to protest, but Beverly waved him off.

"Deanna Troi, ship's counsellor, USS Enterprise," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Graves."

Graves grinned.

"I'm sure it is," he said. "This is one of the truly great moments of your life."

He wasn't suffering from a lack of ego.

Kareen seemed to warm up to their visitors – even if she was staring at Worf with keen curiosity.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you a Romulan?" she asked.

"Hardly!" Worf responded in a gruff voice.

"He's a Klingon, Kareen," Graves said.

He left Deanna in favour of resting his hand on Kareen's shoulder.

"Kareen has lived here since her father died when she was very young. Her only knowledge of other people comes from her studies," Graves explained. "Klingons and Romulans don't look much alike, Kareen."

He smirked.

"Even though they act much alike," Graves added.

Worf saw red.

Mindful that Kareen had advised Graves's behaviour had been problematic, Worf took a deep breath and let his anger dissipate.

But Graves had caught the change in Worf's body language.

"No insult intended, Mr Klingon," Graves said in a tone that indicated anything but an apology.

He chuckled.

"You see, Doctor. There's nothing wrong with my mind. I still have the sharpest wit in the room," Graves muttered.

He was about to make another smart remark when he finally laid eyes on Data.

"My, my, my, my," Graves said with a sense of wonder.

"Lieutenant Commander Data," Data said, extending his hand.

Graves completely ignored Data's outstretched hand and began to circle Data like a hawk.

Data panicked when Graves clutched his chin, forcing his head side to side. For Data, it was just like the kind of treatment he'd been accustomed to during the earliest days of his activation.

He recognised the look in Graves's eyes, he knew what intentions lay in his heart.

Data could feel himself begin to shut down. He was desperate to detach from his body, to be anywhere other than under the gaze of this man that was sizing him up like a delicacy.

"Psssht! Soong's work," Graves scoffed. "Bastard built you in his image. You poor thing."

Data frowned.

Graves roared with laughter.

"Don't tell me you're offended now too," Graves remarked.

"I am afraid I cannot recall Doctor Soong," Data confessed. "But I have seen his image. There is a resemblance. However, I do not understand why you would pity me. His physical appearance was considered adequate for a human male."

This only further confirmed Graves's opinion of Data.

"You poor thing," Graves repeated. "Sure Soong was alright. Bit of a fiend back in the day. He was handsome enough. Brilliant mind. But he always lacked a certain panache when it came to the artistic side of cybernetics."

Data was floored.

"You knew Doctor Soong? You were a contemporary of his?" Data inquired.

"Know him?!" Graves exclaimed. "I taught him everything he knows. You could say I was the father of his work."

In fact, Soong and Graves had quite a history together.

"Which I guess sort of makes me your grandfather," Graves declared as he tapped Data on the cheek fondly.

Graves jumped.

"Damn doctors!" he cried.

Beverly was busted.

"Always sneaking up on you. Attacking from the rear," Graves straightened himself up and stared hard at Beverly. "Go on, gorgeous. Spit it out. Whatever the hell it is, I can take it."

Beverly hated giving bad news. It was part of her job, but that didn't make it any easier.

"Is there a place we could sit down and talk?" Beverly suggested.

"Like you think a chair is gonna make a lick of difference in your diagnosis?" Graves spat. "Out with it, ginger. Don't keep an old man waiting."

"I've checked twice to make certain. You have Darnay's disease. I'm sorry, Doctor Graves. It's in the end stage," Beverly said.

Kareen gasped.

"Is there anything you can do for him?" she asked.

There was no cure for Darnay's disease. In all cases, Darnay's was terminal. With proper treatment, one could extend their time.

But in the end stage, the outcome was usually weeks at best.

"We can make you more comfortable. I'd be happy to discuss options for palliative care," Beverly said.

Graves was not impressed.

"And my expiration date?" Graves inquired.

Beverly blinked.

"My time, doctor. How much time before I keel over?" Graves demanded.

"I could give you an estimate. We'll need to run a series of tests," Beverly said. "They would be non-invasive. I just need a blood sample and some brain scans."

"Fine," Graves said.

He knew that Kareen's best chance for safe passage off his world was with these people. They would see her safely on to a Federation starbase.

For months, Graves had known he was in decline. He could feel it coming.

And his one great regret (among many) was that he had nothing to leave Kareen to ensure her safety. Graves was hesitant to put his trust in the trade ship that supplied his home.

If he had the time, he wanted to request they permit him a proper farewell.

Beverly instructed Lieutenant Adams to prepare the test.

"If you could just sit there, sir. This won't take a moment," Adams said.

"What are you, seventeen?" Graves said, deriding him.

"Twenty-three, sir," Adams answered as he activated the retrieval function on his hypospray.

"Babyface," Graves remarked.

---

Data stood motionless, utterly transfixed on a small, antique photo.

It was an image of a much younger Graves with none other than Noonian Soong. The photo was taken in Okinawa, Japan at the Daystrom Institute.

"Doctor-" Data began to ask.

"Call me grandpa," Graves insisted. "It seems more touching in my final hours."

Doctor Crusher's testing had determined that Graves's case of Darnay's had progressed rapidly. She estimated he had days, a week at most, before he would succumb.

The crew of the Enterprise had agreed to wait there until the ship returned. There was no telling exactly how long it would take.

Kareen Brianon was thrilled (if not a bit shy) about the prospect of new people to interact with. She had been alone with Graves for so long – most of her life in fact.

Kareen's father had died when she was young. The last three members of his team were also long gone. One perished when Kareen was a girl. The other two had packed up and left after that, heading for a Starbase with better options.

That had been fourteen years earlier when Kareen was nine.

The chance to speak with other people was a real treat for Kareen. Graves had always forbidden her from getting too friendly with the men that worked the supply ship.

In contrast, Graves was indifferent to his guests.

Save for Data.

Graves had even invited Data to come spend time with him in his lab. It was unusual for the renowned hermit to permit anyone to watch him work.

Even when Kareen's father had been alive, Graves had rarely permitted his protégé access to his private office.

"Grandpa, how did you know Doctor Soong?" Data inquired. "Will you tell me about him? Of your time together?"

Data's brain was bursting with questions – what was he like? Did he enjoy any particular type of music? Did he play an instrument? Did he also enjoy mystery novels?

Data was desperate to find some sort of bond – any connection – with his father.

"Don't worry, sonny. We'll have plenty of time to reminisce," Graves said.

Data frowned and turned his head to Graves.

"But your time is finite?" Data asked.

He didn't understand.

All of Data's research on the subject of mortality had led him to believe that humans considered the concept of time to be unfair. Their lifespans were far too short for their liking compared to Vulcans, Romulans, Klingons, and many other species.

In fact, humans aged faster than most of their counterparts.

Most of the literary sources Data had consumed considered mortality to be an unavoidable and tragic event.

But Graves's behaviour made him question that assertion.

He was upbeat, almost jovial about the entire affair. He sat at his desk working just as if it were another ordinary day.

He was whistling.

"Grandpa, I have noticed that you keep repeating the same notes of a musical phrase I am unfamiliar with," Data said.

Graves stopped working. He set the sonic driver down on the surface of the desk and smiled.

"It's an ancient little tune called If I Only Had a Heart," Graves explained. "A plaintive lament sung by a mechanical man who longs to be human. It's his only wish."

"What happens to this man?" Data asked, intrigued.

"He finds out he's human after all. Already was," Graves answered. "He just worried so much, he never realised it."

There was a sharp intake of breath. Data's lips parted. He blinked twice.

A happy ending.

"Fascinating," Data said in awe.

Graves waved his hand, dismissing the idea.

"Endings like that only happen in fairy tales," Graves said. "You have to make your own happy ending, Data. That's what Soong did."

Graves sighed.

"I might have ended my life as a less bitter man if I'd taken a page from that old boy's playbook," Graves remarked.

"You should be aware that Doctor Soong left Earth. He took up residence on the remote colony of Omicron Theta," Data shared. "You chose to disappear just like Soong."

Graves let out a long, gravelly chuckle.

"Where do you think he learned it?" Graves threw back.

"Hmm," Data remarked.

Graves picked up a small device and resumed working. He was remiss to discuss the subject of his old pal, Soong. The two had parted on less than stellar terms.

At the time, they had both worked at the Daystrom Institute. The fallout had been swift, and Soong had departed shortly thereafter.

Graves had transferred from Okinawa to the Daystrom satellite facility in Bora Bora instead. He poured all of his energy into the means to create Graves's world and never looked back.

"In truth, I don't even remember what the fight was about," Graves said. "Probably a bird."

He shrugged nonchalantly and resumed writing.

"I was unaware you and Doctor Soong shared an interest in ornithology," Data confessed.

"A woman, Data," Graves clarified.

His expression changed to one of pity.

"Then again, I suspect that's a subject that's about as foreign to you as Klingon," Graves commented.

If there was one thing that bothered Data more than anything else, it was when people made assumptions about his capabilities.

"I understand all eight dialects of Klingon. And I know many women," Data responded.

Graves looked up and quirked an eyebrow at Data.

"You'll forgive me if I don't quite-"

"I count a number of women among my friends including Doctor Crusher and Counsellor Troi. One of my best friends, Professor Ishikawa is the principal Botanist aboard-"

Data stopped.

His attempt to clarify things with Doctor Graves had resulted in laughter. Graves threw his head back and roared.

Graves managed to compose himself enough to speak.

"Data, Data, Data," he said, clucking his tongue as he wiped his eyes.

"Sir," Data began.

"It must be so hard for you to be so close to being human and yet never really knowing what it's like to feel pain, lust, envy, pleasure."

He paused.

"Desire," Graves added with a wistful look.

He turned his attention back to Data.

"Do you know what desire is, Data?" Graves asked.

Of course I do. Probably more than you. That was what Data wanted to say.

But he realised that such a sharp response might upset Graves. Given his condition, Data chose to respond with tact.

"To long for, to crave," Data answered.

"But do you really know?" Graves asked. "Oh, I do pity you. Your existence must be some kind of walking purgatory. Neither dead nor alive. Never really, truly feeling anything. Just existing."

Data bristled.

It had taken Data over a year to reconnect with himself, to realise he did feel emotions. He had all along. Through therapy and the support of Tasha and his friends, Data had come to understand that Bruce Maddox had conditioned him to suppress his feelings.

Hearing Graves dismiss all of this was like being back in the box again.

Data had grown accustomed to microaggressions and assumptions – but when they came from a renowned cyberneticist, someone that should know better – it hurt in a way that was more profound.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be pestering you about this," Graves said. "Filling your head with notions of love that you'll never-"

"Grandpa, in matters of love – whether the act or the emotion - you should be aware that I am capable of-"

Graves erupted with laughter, slapping the table.

"I should have known! Noonian was always a scamp. Of course, that rake would equip his creation with a purple parsnip," Graves said. "Old boy always had one thing on his mind."

Data's brow furrowed. He didn't quite follow.

"I do consider botany a hobby, but I prefer growing orchids to root vegetables," Data commented.

Graves flashed Data a wicked smile as he wagged his finger in Data's direction.

"He may have built you with one helluva prick, boy. But he certainly didn't gift you his wit," Graves said.

In the back of his mind, Data recalled a phrase Tasha had uttered in the early days of their relationship.

I don't know what your creator was compensating for, but he was clearly compensating for something.

Data cocked his head to the side as his mind began to run through the vast dictionary of human slang he had accumulated over the years.

Are all cyberneticists like this? Data thought with a twinge of discomfort.

"I'm sure Soong endowed you well enough. Shame he didn't give you the capacity to fully use it," Graves scoffed.

Data was aghast. Not only did he feel Graves's comments were wildly inappropriate – they were completely unfounded.

Tasha had certainly never had any complaints.

"If you are referring to sexuality, I possess fully functional anatomy," Data said in a rather defensive tone.

Graves perked up. Hunched over his desk, he sat forward and eyed Data up and down.

"Really?" Graves pressed.

"Yes," Data replied simply.

Graves sat back and studied Data for a moment while scratching his bearded chin.

"Perhaps I've underestimated you, android," Graves confessed.

He rested his hands across his stomach as a grin spread across his face. Data presumed he was lost in a memory.

"Grandpa?" Data prompted in the hope that Graves was reflecting on a memory of Soong – and would be willing to share.

Graves let out a heavy sigh.

"Soong had it right, you know? I might not have spent my last few years as a lonely old man if I'd followed in his footsteps," Graves remarked.

"Grandpa, you should know that, like you, Doctor Soong chose to leave Earth and settle on a remote planet. He lived largely in isolation until the colony was destroyed by the Crystalline Entity," Data explained. "During his escape, Doctor Soong died when-"

"Did he?" Graves interjected with a hefty dose of cynicism.

---

"I'd say he has a week. But that's only an estimate," Beverly explained. "Darnay's disease attacks the brain and the nervous system. We can expect a pattern of erratic behaviour and mood swings to continue."

Kareen bit the tip of her thumb and began to pace back and forth.

Deanna could sense she was terribly distraught.

"Doctor Graves means a lot to you," Deanna commented.

"Ira is all I have," Kareen explained.

She had never known her mother. Her father had died when she was young. Graves had raised her – he was both mentor and father.

"His feelings towards most people are indifferent. But his feelings for you are very warm," Deanna said.

She had a feeling that Kareen needed to hear that. In recent weeks, Graves's prickly attitude had worsened as the disease took hold of his neurological system.

"May I ask what the nature of your relationship with Doctor Graves is?" Deanna inquired.

She had struggled to pinpoint that ever since their arrival. There were conflicting feelings – on both sides.

Kareen shrugged.

"Ira is really the only person I've ever truly known. Oh I know you all think he's this bitter old man," she acknowledged. "But he can be sweet. Tender."

She paused and smiled, recalling a fond memory.

"When I was little Ira made sure I wanted for nothing. He would play at my tea parties and build me the most fantastic toys," Kareen explained. "He knew I liked birds so he went to great lengths to give a pair of lovebirds."

Ira had always shown Kareen great kindness.

"And as I got older, I wanted to leave. I was so desperate to be rid of this place," Kareen admitted. "I wanted to see the rest of the universe. To see what else was out there."

She stopped and shook her head.

"Ira always calls me stargazer," she shared.

It was his name for her and one that was often spoken with fondness.

"I couldn't bear to leave him here alone. So every now and again he likes to decorate the garden," Kareen went on. "He strings up lights and makes all sorts of decorations. Polymer palm trees and paper lanterns and the like."

"And these are important memories," Deanna said.

Kareen nodded.

"He tried to help me explore the world from my own backyard," Kareen explained. "We'd try new foods. He'd tell me all about the places he'd travelled to and lived before, what it was like on Earth."

Ira had tried to provide Kareen with a robust education and all the knowledge he could pass on – including everything from cybernetics to how to prepare sushi.

In some ways, Kareen's intelligence was off the charts. She was brilliant and bookish – but she lacked practical experience in life.

Kareen's face contorted as she surveyed the room.

"He'll want me to go with you. All I've ever dreamed of is leaving this place," she said. "But now the thought of going alone-"

She trailed off and left the rest unsaid.

"A part of you expected you would be leaving with him. That when you finally travelled, it would be together," Deanna said as she waded through the mixed emotions radiating off Kareen.

"Yes," Kareen answered. "Ira promised he would take me to the beach in Okinawa. And the aquarium. I've never actually seen sea life before. Not real sea life, anyways"

"But you also knew that would never be possible," Deanna said.

Kareen dropped her gaze to the floor and began to pick at her fingernails.

"He said perhaps in another life. He's never seen me as a woman - only the little girl sitting on his knee," Kareen said.

---

Back in Graves's private office, Data was struggling to understand his behaviour. He had invited Data to join him – and then largely ignored him in favour of working on a small device at his desk.

"Grandpa, why do you seem indifferent regarding your impending death?" Data inquired. "Is it courage? Stoicism?"

"Because I am an incredible man, possessing an iron will and nerves of steel – two traits that made me the genius I am today as well as the lady-killer I was in days gone by," Graves responded.

Data's eyebrows shot up.

A deathbed confession? Data thought.

He was familiar with the concept from his mystery novels. But Data had come to believe that such things only existed in fiction.

"You condone homicide?" Data asked.

Graves could only laugh.

"It's an expression, Data. It means I was once as handsome as I am clever," Graves clarified.

"Hmm," Data replied.

It was his polite way of acknowledging the statement without directly stating his disbelief.

"Oh alright," Graves said, waving his hand. "Not really. But what the hell? I'm dying. I get to remember my life any which way I damn well please."

He smirked.

"And I'll let you in on a little secret," Graves said. "I don't really think I will be dying."

Beverly had warned that Graves's behaviour would become erratic. Delusions and denial were a natural part of the final stages of Darnay's disease.

"But Doctor Crusher-"

"Pish!" Graves barked.

He set down his work and turned to Data.

"Why do you think your father created you?" Graves asked.

It was a question Data had wrestled with for years – even before he knew Noonian Soong was his creator. Since his earliest days of activation, Data had wondered what was the purpose of his existence.

Learning that he was a Soong-type android had only added more questions.

From his research into his ancestry, Data had learned all about the Soongs and their long history of controversial scientific experimentation. They pushed the boundaries of science, blurring the line between man and machine.

Lore had called it 'The insatiable Soong desire for immortality.'

"I believe my father created me in his image for posterity. He sought to leave a legacy. I am that legacy, the culmination of a lifetime of work," Data answered.

Graves rose and hobbled over to Data.

"A creation that would live on, endowed with all the knowledge and experience he could fit inside your data chips, eh?" Graves asked.

"Yes," Data responded.

"Ah! And therein lies Soong's greatest flaw," Graves said.

He reached up and cupped Data's face.

"He never saw your true potential," Graves concluded.

Suddenly, Data felt very small. He wanted to step back. He wanted Graves to retract his hand.

"You see, now I remember why your father and I fell out," Graves explained. "I created a way to transfer the wealth of my knowledge, my very consciousness into a synthetic mind."

It was all coming back to him now.

"And old Noonian didn't like that one bit," Graves said. "You see, he truly thought of his creations like they were his own children. People capable of independent thought. Unique life forms."

He gently slapped the side of Data's face a few times.

"And I'll admit, you are unique," Graves said.

"But you do not believe I am a person," Data said, reading into Graves's comment.

"You're a marvel of modern cybernetics," Graves answered, dodging the question. "Tell me, what does it feel like? Can you smell flowers? Feel pain?"

He leaned in close.

"Does honey taste as sweet to you as it does to the human tongue?" Graves asked.

"I experience all of these things," Data said.

Graves smiled.

"You've made an old man very happy, Data," Graves said.

He took hold of Data's hand, turning it over, inspecting each knuckle and fingerprint with keen interest.

"You see I built all of this-" he paused and gestured around the room. "In order to transfer my great mind into a synthetic neural net so that I might cheat the Grim Reaper."

Graves paused. He looked to be overcome with contentment.

"And now fortune has smiled upon me," Graves said.

His eyes narrowed.

"Do you dream, Data?" Graves asked.

"Yes. I do dream. Often, in fact," Data explained.

His first experience with the delightful, hazy experience of a dream had been disorienting. Most of the time, Data's dreams were mundane. But he enjoyed them, nonetheless.

And on the rare occasions where his imagination got the chance to run wild, Data had relished in such a rich, colourful sensation.

"Then you sleep? Power down somehow?" Graves inquired.

"I have a rest programme that I voluntarily activate each night," Data shared. "I also have a deactivation switch that robs me of my consciousness and renders me dead for all intents and purposes."

Data fell silent.

"I do not enjoy contemplating such a feeling. It is… uncomfortable," Data added. "When I have been deactivated before I find myself left with a sense of emptiness."

"Oh, I don't think you'll ever have to worry about feeling that emptiness again," Graves remarked.

---

As the away team was still waiting for the Enterprise to return, they opted to dine with Graves and Kareen. Dinner was an exciting affair. Kareen had never had the opportunity to host others and she was most keen that they eat in the garden.

"This is my favourite place," Kareen told them.

She had prepared Ira's favourite meal. He had eaten very little in recent weeks, but she wanted tonight to be special.

Shortly before the sun set, Ira came shambling out of his office with Data in tow.

"This garden is impeccable," Data remarked as he took his seat.

"Thank you," Kareen replied.

"Kareen's always been fascinated by botany," Graves said. "She takes such good care of this garden."

He caught her hand as she passed by.

"And of me," Graves added.

A fond look passed between the two. It did not go unnoticed by Deanna. There was a wave of conflicted feelings emanating from both of them.

Graves sputtered as he took a sip from his glass.

"What is this? Milk?" he roared. "We have guests, Kareen."

She didn't understand.

"Ira?" she asked.

"The wine, girl. The wine!" Graves ordered, snapping his fingers. "No use saving the good stuff. For tonight, I eat my final meal. And what a fine occasion it is that we should be joined by all of you."

Real wine was such a rare treat that Kareen had never tasted it before. She didn't know where to begin opening the bottle.

"May I help?" Data offered.

Graves watched with keen interest as Kareen handed the bottle over.

"Thank you," she said.

"It is my pleasure," Data replied, making quick work of the cork.

He handed the bottle back and Kareen began to pour.

"We have an impressive Arboretum on the Enterprise," Data said. "Our Chief Botanist, Professor Ishikawa, has recently obtained a number of rare Epiphyllum oxypetalum."

Kareen perked up.

It's too perfect. Graves thought as he observed them.

---

After their meal, Graves had insisted that everyone join him down in a different part of the garden.

"Leave them, Kareen," Ira ordered as she tried to pick up the dishes.

"But Ira-"

"Leave them," he insisted. "Tomorrow you'll be leaving. It won't matter anyways."

Kareen frowned.

"I don't like you saying those things," Kareen said. "I know your time is limited but-"

"Shhh," Graves said, shushing her.

It was obvious that Kareen was disturbed by Graves's behaviour.

"Kareen knows full well I like to keep the place tidy. But it's been so long since I've had a proper audience," Graves went on.

Worf, Beverly, Deanna, Data, and Kareen followed Ira as he rounded the corner in the garden. They found themselves in a seating area. There were all sorts of little lights strung up from tree to tree giving the area a lovely glow.

In the centre of the patio was a piano.

"You've waited a long time for this," Deanna remarked.

She had picked up on a profound sense of fulfilment coming from Doctor Graves. He was truly joyous. Naturally, Deanna assumed this was because he would get the opportunity to perform once more before his death.

Graves assumed his seat at the piano and began to tickle the ivories.

"This is an old tune I used to sing in my youth when I was a scrappy little twig living on Casperia Prime," Graves said. "I went there with nothing more than a sonic driver and a few slips of latinum in my pocket."

In spite of his age, Graves's fingers danced across the keys.

"I used to sit at this little seaside pub called the Meteor. I played for tips – and the occasional drink," Graves went on. "It's where I first learned to tango."

He smirked.

"Among other things," Graves added.

---

"We can't thank you enough, Captain Picard," said the Captain of the Constantinople. "If you hadn't come to our aid-"

"Say no more," Picard assured him. "We're glad we could render assistance."

"The USS Bridgeport will meet you at Eltarios IV," Geordi said. "Our patch job should until then."

"Thank you," the Captain responded. "Thanks to all of you."

The repairs to the Constantinople had taken hours. The damage was far more extensive than Geordi had anticipated.

It had taken four repair teams nearly twelve hours to complete their work – and that was only a patch job. The Constantinople was salvageable – but she needed a proper repair ship to complete the work.

All in all, a total of sixty-three lives had been lost in the tragedy.

Had the Enterprise not responded, it was likely they all would have perished.

For Jean-Luc it was a strong reminder that the regular work of a starship was never paused – even with a Romulan threat hovering over them.

"Number One," Picard said, turning to Will.

That was all he needed to say. Will sprang into action.

"Ensign, lay in a course for Graves's world," Will said.

From her position at Tactile, Tasha breathed a sigh of relief. Their rescue had been, indeed, just a rescue. And now they were heading back across the sector to pick up the away team.

Data would be home shortly after midnight.

And in her bed by the time Tasha's head hit her pillow.

---

Ira Graves felt as if he was on the edge of a golden world.

But he wasn't quite ready to say goodnight yet. There was no guarantee his plan would work. And so he was reluctant for the evening to end.

It was a warm night and there were two moons high in the sky, casting an ethereal glow. They had risen early and were shining in their beautiful, full splendour – almost as if they were hanging there to kiss Ira farewell.

Kareen had been full of questions for the crew – and Data had been only too willing to answer all them. He listened patiently and answered each question without judgement.

When Kareen expressed embarrassment about her naivety regarding the wider world, Data had assured her there was no need for shame.

"I too was once like you," Data said. "And in the grand scheme of all that is out there – undiscovered, uncharted – we are all constantly learning."

Ira was strangely at ease as he watched the pair. Because whether his plan worked or not, he was certain that Kareen would be in good hands.

"Kareen, why don't you take Mr Data over to the greenhouse? Hmm? Show him your orchids?" Ira suggested.

Data's face lit up.

"Come," Kareen said, pulling him along.

---

"Captain, we need to drop out of warp now," Geordi insisted.

"Ensign, all stop," Picard ordered without hesitation.

The ship immediately dropped out of warp.

"La Forge?" Picard asked.

"I think we may have overtaxed the coolant system while we stabilised the Constantinople," Geordi advised. "I'll need some time to check it out. If it is the coolant – we're not going anywhere for a few hours."

---

"He's a nice man," Graves said as he hobbled over to stand next to Kareen.

"Hmm? Oh I suppose," she said in a faraway voice.

She was standing at the edge of the garden, looking up at the sky. It was her special place, her favourite spot to watch the night's sky.

"I was just thinking there's so much out there I don't know, so many worlds I've never seen," Kareen said.

Her face fell.

"And yet, these are the only stars I have ever known," she lamented.

"You'll see them someday," Graves promised. "More than you could ever dream of."

Kareen looped her arm through Ira's, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. These stars… they're my stars. My home," she said.

"You are avoiding my question, Kareen," Graves teased.

"I'm not ready," she said.

"Don't keep an old man waiting," Graves pressed.

"I meant I'm not ready to leave here," Kareen responded. "I'm not ready for you to leave."

Graves turned so he could look at her properly. Slipping two fingers under Kareen's chin, he forced her to meet his eyes.

"I'll always be with you," he promised. "In a way."

Her lip began to quiver.

"You will have a magnificent life away from this place. A chance to start again," Ira went on.

He thumbed away a thick tear and then tucked a tendril of Kareen's hair back behind her ear.

"Another life," Graves promised.

---

Kareen wasn't sure when she dozed off, but she was awoken by a gentle shake.

It was the young medic that had accompanied the team.

"I'm sorry to wake you miss," Lieutenant Adams apologised.

Kareen sat up and glanced around the room. She had dozed off in the study where the bulk of the away team had set up camp for the night. They didn't have much in the way of supplies, but they had made do – kipping down on sofas and the floor.

Worf was in the corner, half-asleep with his arms folded across his chest. Deanna had dozed off as well. But Beverly was nowhere to be found.

It had been nearly eighteen hours since the away team had beamed down to Graves's world. There had been no communication from the Enterprise during that time – which was more than unusual.

At first the team had been worried the rescue really had been a ruse.

But as the hours ticked on, Beverly became concerned that whatever security system Graves had installed around the planet was preventing their subspace communications from penetrating the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, Data was so wholly preoccupied with Graves that he had unintentionally overlooked his responsibilities as mission leader.

Not that anyone blamed him.

They knew Data was in tough spot. And after Tasha's little confession that he was 'sorting through things' they wanted to be supportive.

"Ira?" Kareen asked, worried.

"No, no," Lieutenant Adams assured her. "We need your help with the communications system. So we can contact our ship."

"Oh, of course," Kareen said as she got up.

---

"And now the end is near. And so I face the final curtain," Graves crooned.

He'd been singing ever since they had returned from dinner, the concert carrying over from the garden and into his private office.

There was even a jaunty pep in his step as he shuffled about the room checking different devices and testing the power levels on his lab equipment.

"Grandpa, I have noticed that your mood seems to have improved significantly," Data observed.

Graves flashed Data a smile as he went on singing.

"I did what I had to do! And saw it through without exemption."

Graves raised one arm and danced with himself for a moment before moving to a console on the other side of the room.

"And you seem certain that this is your final night, that your death is imminent," Data went on.

"I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway!" Graves bellowed, raising his voice to emphasise his joy.

"I can theorise only one reason you would feel this confidant in the knowledge that the hour of your death approaches," Data said.

Graves immediately stopped.

"You intend to end your life," Data announced.

For a moment, the two men eyed one another. Neither of them spoke.

"But what I fail to understand is why this brings you joy," Data confessed.

Graves flashed him a wry smile.

"Because death is my rebirth," Graves said as he slowly sauntered toward Data. "This is not an end, but rather the beginning. How fitting it should be that the culmination of my life's work should provide the springboard to my next great adventure."

He chuckled.

"And how ironic I would wind up looking like that bastard," Graves remarked. "You see, I always thought I was the more handsome one."

Data's neural net surged.

"But beggars can't be choosers, eh?" Graves said.

Data began to back away toward the door as Graves closed in on him.

"Sir, whatever you are thinking-" he warned, putting his finger up.

"I'm thinking you're going to help me Data. Fortune favours the bold!" Graves declared.

There was a wild look in his eyes.

"Doctor, my positronic matrix is not designed to handle two distinct consciousnesses," Data cautioned. "There are far too many unknown variables and-"

Data's central power cell was racing. He was having a hard time slowing his mind enough to speak clearly.

There was no telling what the merger of two minds would do. It could very well overwhelm his neural pathways, causing irreparable damage.

And there were so many things Data had yet to accomplish. He was engaged. He longed for a family, to continue his career in Starfleet, to explore the ocean world of Pacifica, and to see Earth again.

To wake up on Føroyar to smell of salt water next to Tasha.

"I do not want this," Data asserted. "I do not-"

There was a sharp jolt of pain as Graves activated an electrical surge targeting Data's neural net. As predicated, it was enough to temporarily scramble his neural pathways.

Data dropped to the floor.

He was filled with terror as he found himself unable to move. He began to run an emergency diagnostic. It was the first necessary step in reaching his internal repair function.

Data knew he didn't have much time. Since his functionality was temporarily scrambled, Data could not even calculate the time he had as Graves moved closer with each step.

Graves smiled, leering over Data as he knelt down to flip his activation switch.

---

"That should do it," Kareen said.

She reattached the protective panel and then flipped the switch to activate the communications array.

"Picard to away team. Away team, please respond," Jean-Luc's voice rang out.

The Enterprise had been trying to make contact with the away team for hours.

"We've completed our repairs on the Constantinople, but we've hit a bit of a snag on our way back," Picard informed them.

Engineering needed at least another two hours before the coolant system would be ready to handle the engines at warp again.

"Be advised that we'll be in the vicinity to pick you up shortly before 04:00," Picard said. "Were you able to render assistance to Doctor Graves?"

There was a slight pause.

"Beverly?" Picard prompted.

"Doctor Graves's condition is terminal, Captain. At this point all we can offer is palliative care," Beverly answered.

"I see. Does he wish to leave? Is he in any condition to be moved? We could transport them somewhere that's equipped with a proper medical facility," Picard offered.

"That will not be necessary," Data said as he swept into the room.

Kareen gasped, bringing her hand up to cover her open mouth.

"Data?" Beverly asked.

"He is gone," Data said.

"Gone?" Worf pressed.

"Doctor Graves is gone. It happened only moments ago, in my arms. Ira Graves is dead," Data announced.

In truth, it had been almost an hour since Graves had passed – at least it had been an hour since he'd vacated his body in favour of an upgrade.

The transfer had taken only moments. Graves had been conducting neural scans for months in an effort to perfect his system.

And as he studied his results in the mirror, he knew that all that work had been worth it.

He walked taller.

His back no longer ached with the ever-present pain that had arrived in 2349 and lingered since.

Most surprising of all, Graves felt alive.

If he inhaled deeply, he could smell the night air – all of it.

Everything from the orchids, hydrangeas, and lilies in the garden to the subtle aroma of lubricant that was used to grease the generator.

It was all there – stronger, more fantastic, and real than Ira had ever experienced in his human form.

There was one thing in particular that Ira was keen to try in this newfound form.

Kareen was clearly devastated by his death. It struck him with a feeling of immeasurable gratitude to know just how moved she had been by his loss.

He was nearly to her when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Data, I could use your help," Beverly said.

He paused, watching as Deanna comforted a sobbing Kareen.

"Of course," he replied stiffly.

Ira recognised it was important to maintain the façade of being Data – at least until he was off this planet and safely to a Starbase where the world would quite literally lay at his fingertips.

---

Beverly sat back on her knees and frowned.

"Lieutenant, can I see your tricorder for a moment?" Beverly asked.

"Of course," Adams said as he handed over the device.

Beverly flipped it open and conducted another scan of Graves's body.

"Doctor Crusher?" Adams asked.

"That's strange. I can't pinpoint the cause of death. And his body temperature would indicate he's been dead longer than a few moments," Beverly said.

"What are you saying, Doctor?" Adams asked.

"I don't know," Beverly replied honestly as she conducted yet another scan to verify her results.

Beverly turned to Data. Ever since returning to the room, he had been almost dismissive of Graves's body. It was odd given that Data had spent most of the trip fawning over him.

"Data, you're certain this just happened?" Beverly pressed.

"Yes, Doctor," Graves answered.

"What time? When did it happen?" Beverly questioned.

"Just moments before I came to find you," Graves responded.

Beverly was a little taken aback by Data's response. It was unlike him to use a generalised term like 'moments' instead of a precise time.

In fact, one of Data's most endearing quirks was his habit of citing time down to the millisecond. However, Beverly understood there may be something else going on.

In their short time together, Data had become rather attached to Graves.

"Data? Are you alright?" Beverly asked, concerned his behaviour was a symptom of a deeper grief.

Data's body stiffened.

"I am fine," he replied.

Not 'functioning within normal parameters?' Beverly thought with alarm.

She stood and pocketed her tricorder.

"Oh Data, I know this is hard," Beverly said as she threw her arms around him.

After processing his initial shock, Graves relaxed and returned the embrace. It was the first time Ira had been properly, warmly embraced by another person in ages.

Because of the differences in their age, Ira had always kept Kareen at a distance. In recent years, he had become aware of her affections. And Graves had struggled to balance that against his own desire.

He loved her.

But he knew he wasn't supposed to.

She had been a child. And then one day he realised she wasn't – not anymore. They had been working together in the garden. As they spoke of one mundane topic or the next, Ira became aware that she was no longer the little girl who had hosted him for her tea parties under the sun.

For the first time, he saw Kareen as a woman – a beautiful, brilliant, insightful woman.

And it frightened him.

Close embracing had stopped after that.

Now, standing there in the arms of this lovely, kind Doctor felt like oxygen to a drowning man.

Graves leaned into the embrace, relishing in the feel of intimate contact with another person. She was warm. She smelled like vanilla. And she was rubbing small, soothing circles on his back.

"It's alright, Data. I know it's hard," Beverly assured him. "I'm right here."

Lieutenant Adams was still on the floor, kneeling next to the body as he prepared it for transport. When he finished, he glanced up and happened to catch an odd sight.

Lieutenant Commander Data had his head on Beverly's shoulder. She was trying to soothe him. Only he didn't appear distraught.

In fact, his expression made it seem as if he was enjoying himself.

Adams's eyebrows shot up as Data's hands crept lower on Beverly's back. He was about to clear his throat when Beverly stepped back, breaking contact.

"Maybe it would be good to talk with Deanna?" Beverly suggested. "We could all get a hot cup of tea and chat?"

"Of course," Graves responded.

Beverly turned to leave. Adams was aghast as he observed Data watching her go – cocking his head to the side, his eyes following her every move as she walked away.

He was leering like she was a side of beef.

"Sir," Adams said in a terse voice.

He had never tolerated such behaviour from colleagues and wasn't about to start. Lieutenant Adams was also keenly aware of Data's relationship with Lieutenant Yar. He had great respect for Tasha. Seeing Data demonstrate such boorish behaviour didn't sit right with him.

"Do not pretend you have never looked," Graves responded.

Adams baulked.

"Sir, we are on duty," Adams reminded him. "And regardless, I would certainly never treat another officer that way – especially if I-"

"If I what? Lieutenant?" Graves sneered, challenging him.

Adams just shook his in disbelief.

"How can you treat her like that? After all she's gone through for you," Adams asked.

He was referring to Tasha. Adams knew more than most when it came to the tumultuous experience of their relationship. After all, he had been a witness to some of it and had defended both Data and Tasha during the hearing when they were accused of violating fraternisation policies.

But this was lost on Graves.

He had never even considered the possibility that an android would be in a committed relationship. Graves presumed Adams was referring to Beverly.

"Who was it that said, 'doctors are not people – they are women?'" Graves asked.

He paused and chuckled.

"Ah, that is right. Ira Graves," Ira said, glancing down at his own body.

It was strange to see it like that – grey, flabby, utterly devoid of life.

"That beautiful, brilliant man. Crusty old bastard. But a genius, nonetheless," Graves said.

Adams made a face.

"Do you not have duties to attend to, Lieutenant?" Graves asked.

---

As they waited for the Enterprise to arrive, Lieutenant Adams kept a careful eye on Data. True to her word, Beverly had prepared them all hot cup of tea.

Data completely ignored it in favour of leaning in close as he chatted with the Doctor.

But the minute Deanna returned with Kareen from a stroll around the garden, Data abruptly left the table and made a beeline in her direction.

"Miss Brianon, Ira requested that I speak to you," Graves said.

He took her arm and began to lead her away from the others.

"His final thoughts were of you," Graves went on. "And he so wished that we could get to know each other better."

It made Lieutenant Adams's stomach turn sour to watch them.

As soon as Data and Kareen were out of earshot, he decided it was time to speak up.

"Doctor, may I speak with you?" Adams requested.

"Mmm hmm," Beverly nodded, inviting him to join her at a small table in the corner.

"And Doctor, may I speak freely?" Adams asked.

"Always," she assured him.

Lieutenant Adams glanced back and forth to ensure they would not be overheard.

"Doctor, I'm worried Mr Data has been acting… unusual," Adams said in a low voice. "You warned us to be on the lookout specifically for odd behaviour. And he was alone with Graves for a considerable amount of time."

Oliver Adams had been on high alert ever since recently learning of the Romulan threat.

"When you were trying to comfort him, he certainly didn't appear distraught. That wasn't grief. He looked like he enjoyed it," Adams shared.

Beverly had sensed that too and it had left her feeling a little uncomfortable.

"I appreciate you speaking up. And I'll continue to keep an eye on it. I know that he's been, well, going through a lot lately and making an effort to try new things," Beverly shared.

"Doctor, he was checking you out as he left. Ogling," Adams said.

Beverly raised an eyebrow.

Adams watched as her line of sight suddenly flitted to the archway that led to the garden. Data and Kareen were returning. Data took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

"Look at him," Adams whispered.

It was evident this made Kareen uncomfortable. She quickly excused herself to go pack in anticipation of the arrival of the Enterprise.

Kareen refused Data's offer of help.

A look passed between Doctor Crusher and Lieutenant Adams.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Beverly promised.

She slipped out of her chair and stepped over to Data. Before Beverly could speak, Data had his arm around her waist.

"Ginger," he said, pulling her close. "You will help me to ensure Grandpa is given a proper service?"

"Of course, Data," Beverly replied.

"I knew I could count on you," Graves growled.

Lieutenant Adams was revolted – and he wasn't the only one. Data's sudden strange behaviour did not go unnoticed by Worf's watchful eye.

---

The Enterprise arrived precisely at 03:47. The away team was standing by.

"That's all you're taking?" Deanna asked, eying Kareen's bag.

Kareen glanced down at the bag on her shoulder and shrugged. She had packed a holographic photo projector with some images of her father and Ira. There was the scrapbook she had created of all the places she planned to visit someday.

But she had very little in the way of personal possessions.

Data gripped Kareen's shoulder.

"The ship's stores on the Enterprise are equipped with an impressive catalogue," Data remarked. "We can see to all your needs once you are aboard."

"We're ready to beam aboard the first group," Riker's voice rang out.

"Go ahead," Data responded.

He cupped Kareen's face and smiled.

"I will join you on board shortly," Data assured her. "It is perfectly safe."

Beverly, Deanna, Lieutenant Adams, and Kareen were beamed away along with her limited personal possessions.

Data and Worf remained behind with Graves's body to escort it aboard.

Suddenly, Ira felt a strong hand clutch his uniform. Worf had grabbed Data's shoulder, commanding his attention.

"Forgive me, sir," Worf said in a terse voice. "But I feel it necessary to remind you that we share a mutual affinity for someone."

Hmm? The Klingon interested in Kareen? Graves thought.

Worf leaned in close.

"I recognise you are… exploring," Worf settled on. "But should your journey of self-discovery result in harm to her – be assured that I will be very displeased."

Worf released his uniform.

"Sir," he added.

---

A moment later, they rematerialised in the Transporter Room. There was a medical team waiting to take the body of Ira Graves to the morgue for holding until details of a service could be worked out.

As he stepped off the transporter pad, Graves scanned the room with curiosity. Starship design had come a long way since his last trip aboard a vessel.

This was all clearly state of the art. By the look of things, this ship was only a few years' old.

One of the downsides of Graves's neural transfer was that it proved difficult to access information from Data's memory files. He had anticipated he would retain much more information.

Unfortunately, what he could access was scattered – flashes of memory rather than clear, distinct bits of information.

For example, he recognised the face of the man behind the transporter console but could not place the name.

"Commander," Miles said, greeting him with a nod.

"Sir," Graves responded.

Miles chuckled.

"Good one," Miles replied, presuming this was an attempt at a joke.

And that was far from the only instance that Graves struggled with. He knew that Data had personal quarters somewhere on the Enterprise.

He also expected those quarters would include access to information about the ship and the crew. To his dismay, Kareen had already been escorted away to guest quarters – he knew not where.

Ira assumed he could use Data's login information to obtain such details. But first, he needed a computer and privacy.

"Goodnight, sir," Worf said.

Graves nodded to him and then stalked off into the night in order to get his bearings. There was a certain advantage to beaming back aboard at such an ungodly hour. It limited the need to interact with others.

It took Ira an hour to find a computer with suitable privacy. The ship was far too large. Graves was not at all surprised to learn that there were nearly two-thousand people aboard.

By 05:00, Graves had located Data's personal quarters and had queued up personnel files to prepare himself for the following day.

But before he settled in, Graves caught sight of his reflection in the mirror in the lavvy.

He paused, turning side to side as he studied his own reflection.

More like my new face. Graves mused.

It was still a bit unnerving. Every time he blinked, he felt as if Soong was staring back at him. It was Soong and yet not him all at the same time. The pallor of his skin would take some getting used to.

And the yellow eyes were unsettling.

But it wasn't entirely hopeless.

He had a brand-new body and all that came with that. Ira tapped his chin, revelling in how taut the flesh was on his jawline.

His abdomen was lithe once more – just as it had been in his youth. His arms were firm.

And there were other advantages. Data was considerably taller – something Graves had always secretly longed for.

His fingers ghosted across his abdomen in admiration of such workmanship. Ira chuckled when they reached a rather prominent portion of Data's anatomy.

Soong certainly spared no expense. He thought with delight.

Graves felt almost dizzy with power. He would never grow old. He couldn't die. His new body afforded him strength and speed that man could only dream of.

He didn't even have to stop to sleep. Not if he didn't want to.

A shudder of pleasure rippled through his body.

---

Across the ship, Tasha startled. Her body jolted, having momentarily dozed off. She sat up, yawned, and stretched before rolling over to check the time.

05:07.

"Computer, what is the location of Lieutenant Commander Data?" Tasha inquired.

It was their normal night to stay in her quarters.

Only Data had never shown.

Due to the late hour and the fact the Enterprise was now well off course from her mapping mission, Captain Picard had agreed to give the senior officers the next thirty-six hours off.

Tasha had been looking forward to a long nap followed by a lazy afternoon in bed with Data.

She snagged her combadge off the nightstand and tried to page him - but Graves didn't answer. He was far too busy checking himself out in the mirror, obsessing over his new body.

When thirty minutes went by with no response, Tasha decided to climb out of bed and check on him.

---

"Nope. Nope. Not gonna happen," Graves said as he swiped through personnel files.

What had started as a research project into Data's role on the ship had quickly devolved as Ira's newfound sense of confidence made him curious about what sort of prospects lay aboard the ship.

He swiped to the next page and stopped.

"Ensign Dumont," Graves read aloud as he eyed the picture on file with curiosity. "Saving that one."

---

Out in the corridor, Tasha was shocked to find Data's quarters sealed.

They were well past the point of that in their relationship and often spent time in one another's personal quarters while the other was out.

Unless he wants privacy. Tasha realised.

Upon her return, Beverly had caught Tasha on her way off the Bridge to advise that Data was feeling rather emotional after their encounter with Graves.

She stood there chewing on her lip as she decided what to do. In the end, Tasha felt that it would be best to check on him.

After all, she could always go if he wanted to be alone.

---

A soft chime at the door brought Ira out of his work.

The door slid open, and he was shocked to find a woman on the other side of it.

Especially at this hour. Ira thought.

"Are you alright?" Tasha asked.

"I am fine," Ira responded.

Graves recognised Tasha from her picture in the files. He knew she was the Security Chief. Immediately, he was on guard.

"Beverly said that you were feeling, well, feeling a lot," she settled on, "after your meeting with Doctor Graves."

Graves wasn't sure how to respond.

Has she been sent to suss me out? He pondered.

"What are you doing here? The hour is very late," Graves remarked.

"The computer said you were here. Alone," Tasha said.

Silence fell on the pair.

"I didn't know if you wanted to get some breakfast or take a walk through the Arboretum?" Tasha suggested.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Graves said.

Tasha was surprised by the stiffness of Data's tone.

"I would simply like to be left alone," Graves announced.

Tasha blinked a few times as she processed this.

"Oh!" she said, stunned.

But in the spirit of respecting Data's privacy, Tasha set her reservations about this aside. She recognised that everyone needed time alone now and again. She had her own secrets that Data had always been kind enough to respect, keeping a healthy distance when asked.

"Alright. Well, I'll see you tomorrow then," Tasha said.

She paused.

"If you need anything," she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "You know I'm here."

Tasha leaned in and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek.

Alarm bells were ringing in Ira's mind.

"Goodnight," Graves said before abruptly closing the door, leaving Tasha standing by herself in the corridor.

After the door was shut, Tasha sighed.

"Night," she said softly.

Without another word, she pulled her dressing gown tight and headed for the lift alone.

---

As soon as the door closed, Ira breathed a sigh of relief. He made a mental note to himself – he would need to watch out for that Security Chief.

He suspected she was on to him, that she could sense something was off.

Graves couldn't risk blowing this opportunity. It truly was the opportunity of a lifetime, for a new life.

As uncomfortable as that meeting had been, Graves had learned a valuable new fact about the ship.

"Computer, what is the location of Kareen Brianon?" Graves inquired.

"Kareen Brianon is currently on deck seventeen, aft lounge," the computer responded.

With the guidance of the ship's directional system, Graves was able to locate Kareen. He found her standing at the edge of a large view window that overlooked the ship's nacelles.

His new android form allowed him to approach in silence. Kareen was unaware of his approach until he was standing next to her.

"Oh, Mr Data," she said, surprised by his presence.

Ever since Ira's passing, Data had been unusually attentive.

He offered her a small smile. There was something in that way he looked at Kareen that felt awfully familiar.

"You always were a stargazer," Graves said.