Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters.
The meeting
Captain Picard was staring out the window in his quarters. He was wondering with a heavy heart about the mission that lay ahead of them. His door chimed.
“Come!” He shouted. The door swished open, “Number One.”
“Sir,” Wil strolled into the room.
“Have a seat.” One at a time, five minutes apart, Beverly, Deanna, Worf and Geordi showed up. When everyone had arrived, Captain Picard spoke. “I have asked you all here so we can brainstorm and figure out what in the hell is happening to Mr. Data. I am worrying what little hair I have left out. Who will start first?”
“I stick to my original diagnosis, Captain, I think it’s mental.” Beverly spoke.
“That damn emotion chip.” Geordi growled.
“Data said Dr. Soong put a dream program in the chip. However, he hasn’t activated it. Even so he is dreaming. He feels they are suppressed memories.” Jean-Luc sat down.
“That is a possibility,” Wil volunteered, “after all we have no idea how many times Data has been activated. I doubt seriously that he knows.”
“Good point Number One.”
“But Captain, what makes him think they are suppressed memories?” Deanna asked.
“I asked him the same question. He said because they were real to him.”
“Real?” Geordi asked.
“Yes, physical was the word he used.”
“Physical?” Wil raised an eyebrow.
“He keeps winding up in sickbay.” Beverly threw up her hands and sighed.
Jean-Luc shook his head, “that’s what he said.”
“Why would remembering something be painful? We remember stuff every day. Sometimes it makes us cry but I have never been physically sick.” Geordi commented.
“I have,” Beverly said softly. “There were times I would think about Jack and just throw up. I had convulsions so bad I broke a rib.”
There was silence for a moment.
“He has had that emotion chip for two years. Why would these memories start to surface now?” Geordi asked.
“I have been feeling something strange. I say something because I can’t identify it. It is like butterflies in my stomach. I first felt it when we saw the rabbit on the holodeck.” Deanna sighed.
“And what was up with that?” Wil asked. “He talked to it.”
“Seems like we are coming up with more questions than answers,” Jean-Luc scratched his head.
“Do you think someone is communicating with him? Just because I don’t possess that ability doesn’t mean someone else doesn’t.” Deanna thought out loud.
“But we’ve had dozens of telepaths on this ship, including your mother. They haven’t either.” Wil voiced.
Geordi added, “not even the Metamorph. She was something else.” He smiled.
“What about Q?” Beverly asked. “He took a special interest in Data.”
“Q likes to make himself known. This wouldn’t be his style.” Jean-Luc paused. “Has anyone noticed a decline in his duties?”
They all agreed, no.
Beverly jumped up out of her seat and started pacing. “That blood. I have scrubbed it against every record we have, nothing. It matches nothing. Okay, I know that it is chemically backwards from human blood.” She stopped pacing, scratching her head. “How can a memory make him throw-up a liter of blood that isn’t even his?”
“Doctor,” Jean-Luc scolded.
“Sorry Captain.” She stood still. “We saw how it reacted to an aspirin.” She started pacing again. “I put medicines in it that are helpful to us. They killed it! Almost on contact! Acetaminophen, dead! Diphenhydramine, dead! Aspirin, dead! So I took stuff that will kill us, potassium cyanide, dead! Arsenic, dead! Strychnine, what do you know? It killed it too!”
“Doctor sit down,” Jean-Luc scolded.
“Sorry Captain,” she sat back down. “We started infecting it with germs. You aren’t going to believe this but it killed the germs. Not in weeks or months that it would take us but days, even hours. It is amazing.” She took a deep breath. “There is one more thing. Whatever this is it’s allergic to gold.”
“Gold?” Deanna said in amazement.
“Why would something so bizarre be allergic to gold?” Wil asked.
“I am assuming it is an allergy, because the reaction was so severe. One of my nurses clumsily spilt some on her hand. It washed over her gold wedding ring. The substance just shriveled up. It looks like a dried out sponge. It’s still alive but it’s struggling.”
“Is this substance harmful to my crew?” Jean-Luc was always thinking in the best interest of his crew.
“I don’t think so. The nurse that spilled this on her hand had gotten burned as a child. It left her hand discolored. Her hand looks normal now. If you hadn’t known it before you would never know she had been hurt.”
“Captain,” Data’s voice broke in. Jean-Luc looked surprised. “Go ahead Mr. Data.”
“Sir, we are approaching Deep Space 9.”
*
Q
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