Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters.
The mission
Captain Picard had his senior staff assembled in the ready room. He at the head of the table, Wil on his right, and then around the table was Worf, Geordi, Data, Beverly, Deanna, and a seat for the admiral. Who was late. Jean-Luc detested tardiness. Especially in high ranking officials. They were supposed to set the example.
Data’s mind wondered. It was becoming very difficult for him to keep his mind focused, if only for a minute. In his mind he was waking up. She was lying beside him. Data knew it was a woman, but didn’t have any idea who she was. “Easy.” An authoritative male voice commanded. On the other side of them was a man. He had long white hair and beard. Both braided. A slight tan, that seemed out of place. And piercing green eyes. “Thank you for helping her.”
“You are welcome.” He got up and sat in a chair beside the bed.
“Why would anyone want to harm her?” Data asked.
“You think this was a person?”
Data thought about what kind of animal could do this. “I do not know.”
She moaned, “shh.” The man stroked her forehead. “Shh, it will be okay.” He turned his attention back to Data. “I am Thor. Her father.”
“I am Data.” He thought. “Her friend.”
“And a very good friend indeed.”
Data’s thoughts were interrupted when Admiral Westerfield entered the room. “Are we all here?”
“Yes Admiral.” Jean-Luc answered. Those that knew his tone knew he was annoyed.
“Good.” He clasped his hands together. “I guess I can tell you why we are going where we are going.” He sighed. “We,” he smiled, “the Federation has ambassadors whose specialty it is to integrate Federation law into a prospective culture. Acclimatize it, if you will.”
“Goodwill Ambassadors,” Data interjected. Admiral Westerfield looked shocked, almost sick. “Yes, how did you know that?”
“I am unsure.” Data looked confused.
“Okay,” he paused. “Anyway, we had sent one such ambassador to a planet that we felt was ready to join the Federation. They had expressed an interest to do so.” Westerfield sat in the chair provided for him at the other end of the table facing Jean-Luc. Data was on his right, Geordi on his left. “Because of the nature of these missions, we require that they communicate with the closest Federation outpost every two weeks.”
“Deep Space 9,” Jean-Luc frowned, “is the closest outpost?”
“Yes.”
“Deep Space 9 is in the middle of nowhere.” Beverly reported.
“I am aware of that Doctor.” He took a deep breath. “Things were going great for a while. We got our scheduled messages. Our laws were not conflicting in any way with the planets existing laws. We were all overjoyed.” He took another deep breath. “Two weeks passed with no message.”
“You got scared and came to Deep Space 9 hoping it was a glitch in communication. Another two weeks passed, you panicked. Now here we are.” Data completed the Admiral’s statement.
The smell of honeysuckle flooded Data’s senses. He was no longer in the conference room, he was sitting in a kitchen. The walls were white. The tabletop was glass with a white iron vine pattern for the legs of the table, the leaves of the vines were gold. The four chairs around the table were the same white iron vine pattern with gold leaves. She had her hair pulled into a ponytail. Her green eyes always sparkled. He realized in that moment she had her father’s eyes.
*
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