Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters.
Goodwill ambassador
“What do you do?” Data asked.
“I do lots of things.” She smiled.
Her smile was bright, honest, at this moment tender. “When you are not here?” Data asked. “Dr. Soong built an android.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, I see. Always remember to clarify what you are asking.”
“How could I have worded the question?”
“Do you have a job? Or how do you earn a living?”
“What is a job?”
“Your occupation. What you have been trained to do.”
“What is your job?”
She smiled. She had the greatest smile that was familiar to Data. He could have easily have gotten lost in her smile. “I am a Goodwill Ambassador for the United Federation of Planets; or The Federation for short.”
“Lieutenant,” Westerfield growled pulling Data out of this thoughts. “How would you know that?”
“I think I knew one once.”
“You think?!” He snapped sarcastically.
Deanna jumped. Jean-Luc and Wil noticed.
“Yes.” Came Data’s quick answer.
Worf interrupted with his normal gruff Klingon voice. “Is this planet hostile?” He was doing his job, thinking like a security chief.
“Why don’t you answer that Mr. Data?” Westerfield hissed.
“I cannot.”
Deanna felt a dam of anger break in the old Admiral. “No, Mr. Worf, we don’t send Goodwill Ambassadors into hostile territory.”
Geordi asked, “how long does it take?” Westerfield raised an eyebrow. Geordi clarified, “how long are the missions?”
“It takes as long as it takes.”
Beverly scowled, “how long has this ambassador been on the planet where we are going?”
Westerfield thought about her question. He wasn’t absolutely sure. Getting those messages had become so second nature that he had lost all track of time. Should he even try to answer it? He could say it was classified. The senior staff just stared at him while he thought about the question. 30 years? No. He was 6 months shy of being the youngest admiral ever promoted in Star Fleet. 40 years? Finally, he shrugged his shoulders confessing, “I don’t know.”
“Then why assume the worst here?” Deanna asked.
“This situation is too important to the Federation not to investigate.”
Data heard her voice in the back of his mind. “It takes a panel of 10 high ranking Admirals to assign a Goodwill Ambassador to a planet and the president’s signature.” He repeated allowed her words.
Westerfield stopped breathing. Deanna felt it. He got furious. After several minutes, he calmed down. She had to probe farther. “Admiral, is this a rescue mission or a recovery mission?”
He stopped breathing again. He cleared his throat before he spoke, “I pray it’s a rescue mission.”
“But you’re not sure.” Deanna wouldn’t drop the subject.
“No!” He shouted, pounding his fist on the conference table. “This meeting is over.”
“You had better pray it’s a rescue mission.” Data hissed.
“Is that a threat?” Westerfield bristled.
Data cocked his head to one side. “Not from me.” He smiled. “I think you will choose the first to die.”
Westerfield stormed out of the room leaving a lot of confused crewmembers.
*
Noonien Soong
Poetry & More 
Data rules.
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🤗 Yes he does.
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Love your Star Trek stories ❤️
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Thank you 💕
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