Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

Frog people?

    “What the….” Picard stopped short. There were five green figures on the bridge. 

Creatures none of them hadseen before.

    “Hmm,” Data voiced, “frogs with hair.” He sat back down at his console.

    Deanna controlled a giggle. She got a stern look from the Captain.

    “What are you doing now Data?” Wil asked.

    “I am attempting to vent the atmosphere inside the vessel. It is methane with a trace amount of oxygen.”

   “Methane?” Westerfield questioned.

   “Normal atmospheric levels are rising.” Data continued working on his console. “Atmospheric levels at 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100%.”

    “What is normal atmospheric level?” Picard asked.

    “100% oxygen.”

    “You are kidding?” Will scoffed.

   Data kept working away at his console. His station would make periodic high-pitched beeping sounds.

    “What is that racket?” Westerfield snapped. 

   “I am attempting to regulate the oxygen levels to more of a humanoid intake. Earth’s atmosphere is 79% nitrogen and 21 % oxygen. The lowest it is allowing me to go is a 90/10 mix. 90% oxygen and 10% nitrogen.” His console beeped again. He turned to the Captain shaking his head. 

    Deanna, Wil, Data, and Geordi, check it out.” Picard ordered. “I want answers.”

    “Yes sir.” They said in unison.

    Once they were aboard the Jormungand, Data flipped out his tricorder to take readings from the ship. “You might experience a slight headache. The longer you are here, the less it will hurt.”

    “No one is alive here.” Deanna said with a heavy heart.

    “And it stinks.” Geordi crinkled his nose. “Ewe.” 

    They were standing in a large room. There were tapestries hanging on the walls, four on either side. Great tapestries.

    Data saw himself sitting at a desk. His fingers covered with charcoal dust. The drawings were everywhere around him. He heard her voice in the background dictating what she wanted. Her voice drove him mad. He wanted to reach into his mind and pull her out. 

   “Would you look at those.” Geordi marveled. His voice brought Data back into the large room.

    “How old do you think they are?” Wil questioned.

    Each tapestry had a lover’s scene on it, a romantic couple sitting on a swing, a man playing the violin for his lady; one was especially painful for Data, a picnic scene. The room oozed of love.

    “I believe we have saw enough of the ballroom.” Data shocked them. “Shall we locate the bridge now?” His voice was harsh.

    The three looked bewildered as Data walked away. “Data?” Wil asked as they walked. “What was that little display on the bridge?”

    “What display sir?”

    “Your disappearing act with the Captain?”

     Data stopped in the door of the ballroom. “There are people on the Enterprise that are not welcomed over here.” He kept walking.

    Upon exiting the ballroom, they entered a hallway. Clear glass cases on black marble pedestals lined the walls.

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

“I didn’t touch it!”

    It seemed the instant Captain Picard and Data stepped on the bridge, the view screen became static. The young ensign sitting in Data’s chair spun around. In a scared voice she reported, “I didn’t touch it sir.”

    Data cocked his head to one side. He was concentrating on something. 

    “What is it?” Wil asked.

    “I hear something. I think I hear something.”

    “Well the rest of us don’t hear it!” Westerfield shouted. “We hear static.” He threw his arms up in the air.

    Jean-Luc turned to him giving him a hard look.

    Data walked to his station. “It is okay ensign.” She scampered from the bridge. Data began to work on his console. “There is something there, a noise, very faint. I am attempting to filter the feedback.” As Data worked, a noise did appear. It was distorted. The more he worked the more an understandable voice developed from the static. It was low, animalistic in nature. The sounds were repeating over and over, ‘AYVGLAPC BPFXEUMP!’

    “What is it saying?” Picard asked.

    “Identify yourself.” Data replied

    “This is the Federation Starship Enterprise. I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard.” There was silence. 

    Finally after several minutes of nervous tension ‘SJNL YT BTF SNGL?’  

    “What do you want?” Data translated.

    “What do we want? What kind of question is that?” Westerfield asked.

    “An honest one.” Jean-Luc responded. “To help you.”

    “STNL ZNVUE BTF LJAGV A GUUY JUMO?”

    Data spoke, “what makes you think I need help?”

    Jean-Luc stared at Data. “You are kidding?”

    “No Captain, that was the question asked. May I?”

    “Please.”

    “No, we don’t know what you are telling that thing.” Westerfield snapped.

    The view screen came on. The Jormungand was still floating outside.

    “Data,” Geordi broke in, “sensors show that the Jormungand hasn’t been on for at least a month. Everything about him is cold. Looks like the lights are the only things burning. That is what makes us think he needed help.”    

    “SJB AE SUETUXPAUMY TL RTNXY?”

    Data just looked at Picard. “What?” He asked.

    “Sir,” Data pointed to the ready room. Once they were inside. “Captain, the ship wanted to know why Westerfield is on board?”

    “Really? Why is that important?”

    “Westerfield is not a liked man sir. There are a lot of alien civilizations that would like to do him great harm.”

    “Okay. What do we tell it?”

    “The truth, Westerfield will not tell us the true objective of our mission. We only know we are to check on the status of a Goodwill Ambassador.”

    “Let’s pray that works.” They reentered the bridge. 

    “SUETUXPAUMY SAMM GTL LUMM E FJU FXFU TRQUKLAWU TP TFX ZAEEATG. SU TGMB VGTS SU NXU LT KJUKV TG LJU ELNLFE TP N HTTYSAMM NBAEENYTX.” Data spoke to it.

    “VUUO JAZ NSND PXTX.” Came the reply. 

    Data and Picard disappeared into the ready room again. “What this time?” 

    “He is asking that Westerfield be kept away from him.”

    “They reentered the bridge. Picard spoke. “You have my word, I will do everything in my power as Captain to make sure of it.” 

    The image on the view screen changed to show the inside of the ship.

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

Exploration

  Everyone hurried back to the bridge.

    “Talk to me Data,” Picard ordered.

    His fingers worked frantically at his console. “The USS Jormungand, sir. Built by the federation for a private individual. End of story, Captain.”

    “What?” Picard said in shock.

    “The Federation built this thing.” Westerfield scoffed. “It amazes me what the Federation does with its money.”

    “There is no more information from Star Fleet sir,” Data answered. “Jormungand was a mythical Norse figure. A serpent.” Data spun around in his chair facing Picard. “According to mythology. Jormungand is one of three children of the god Loki and his wife, the giantess Angrboda. The gods were well aware that this monster was growing fast and that it would one day bring much evil upon gods and men. So Odin deemed it advisable to render it harmless. He threw the serpent in the ocean that surrounds the entire world (Earth) hence the name Midgard Serpent. It lies deep in the ocean where it bites itself on the tail, and all mankind is caught within its coils. At the destruction of the universe, Jormungard and Thor will kill each other.”

    Westerfield groaned, “thank you for the lesson in mythology.” He got a stern look from Picard.

    “This ship looks like a dragon, not a snake.” Will observed.

    “Wait,” Worf growled. “If the Jormungand is a bad thing, then it is safe to assume that this ship is a war ship. We must proceed with caution, sir.”

    “Agreed,” Picard said.

    As Data turned back to his station he kept seeing charcoal drawings of the ship before him. He shook it off.

    “Data?” Picard asked.

    “If this vessel was built by the Federation, then our technologies should be compatible.” Data commented.

    “Make it so. Mr. Worf, try hailing it.”

    “Aye sir.” The first time Worf tried the ships wings unfolded.

    “Wow!” Geordi sighed.

    The second time Worf tried the ships eyes turned red.

    A shot of pain ripped through Data. His vision was blurry. “Stop!” He stumbled out of his chair, around to Worf.

    “What is the meaning of this,” Westerfield barked. “Talk to the damn thing!”

    “Delay that order,” Jean-Luc said with a stern voice.

    “I gave you an order Lieutenant.” Westerfield screamed. 

    “I said delay that order. This is my command Admiral. Do you think you can do a better job?”

    “It is not a question of better job. It is a question of getting answers now.” 

    “We will not be able to get answers if my crew is dead and my ship destroyed.”

    Westerfield grunted.

    Data’s head was spinning. He inhaled a sharp breath.

    Jean-Luc’s communicator beeped. “Picard here.”

    “Captain?” Beverly spoke. The crew on the bridge could hear wailing and screaming in the background. “What is going on up there?”

    Data was unable to maintain his balance. “Worf,” he called as he stumbled backwards. 

    Mr. Worf caught him, guiding him back to the railing behind Picard. Data opened a communication channel. “SU ZUNG BTF GT JNXG.” His voice was full of pain. So much so that he could barely speak. The ringing in his ears grew louder. The turbo lift doors slid open allowing Beverly to step onto the bridge.

    Worf could no longer support Data. He collapsed in the floor.

    The ships eyes began to close and its wings began to fold back against the hull.

    Beverly rushed over to Data. He was still unconscious. She examined his head. There was a yellow substance oozing from his ears. “Let’s get him to sick bay.”

    “Number One, you have the bridge.” The Captain ordered.

    “Yes sir.”

    “Wait a minute,” Westerfield snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

    “I have an officer down.”

    “I don’t care. Talk to the damn thing. Find out what it is.”

    “Look at it,” Jean-Luc pointed out the window. “Does it look like it’s going someplace?” I have an officer down. When we fix this situation, we will address the ship out there. Understood!”

    Westerfield was furious. “This will be noted in my report to Star Fleet.”

    “Please do.” Picard snapped.

    Jean-Luc accompanied them to sickbay. Once there he saw 10 different alien species, crew and civilians alike, some with headaches, some complaining about ringing in the ears. “What do they have in common?” 

    “They all have acute hearing.” Beverly answered as she examined Data’s ears. 

    He grabbed her by the wrist. She jumped. He opened his eyes, taking a long look around. “Did it work?”  

    “Yes Data, it worked.” Captain Picard reassured him. “How do you feel?”

    He let Beverly go. “Sorry Doctor.” He moved his legs, “sore sir. I have,” he thought for a moment. “I have a headache sir.”

    “What just happened?”

    “It is my opinion that the Jormungand thought it was under attack and was merely defending itself.” Data looked at all the people in sickbay with him. “It is possible the hailing frequency we use was too low. It could have been mistaken for a growl, an aggressive action.”

    “Why didn’t the words have meaning?” Jean-Luc continued.

    “Words have no meaning, sir, if you cannot understand them.”

    “True.” He agreed. “Do you feel up to going back to the bridge?”

    “Yes sir.”

    One of the aliens they picked up on Anunious 5 lunged at Data screaming in his native language. Two of the nurses grabbed him.

   “No, let him go.” Data said.

    He stepped closer to Data. His voice was almost robotic through the ships translator. “You have to fix this.”

    “Fix what?”

    “Fix what?” He mocked Data.

    “Yes. Fix what?”

    “Fool.” He hissed, returning to his corner of sick bay.

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

Q

    Beverly burst into Captain Picard’s office.

    “Doctor!” He jumped.

    “I am sorry.” She was visibly shaken. “I have to talk to you and the rest of the senior staff.”

    “What about?”

    “I am not going crazy.” She paced. “I am not.”

    “Doctor.”

    “Jean-Luc, I am scared. I haven’t been this scared in a long time.”

    All the senior staff was assembled in the ready-room.

    “Okay, Dr. Crusher, we are all here.” Captain Picard broke the silence.

    Beverly stood up. “I asked Captain Picard to call everyone here. The last three nights in a row Q has woke me up standing at the foot of my bed. He was wearing a white robe and he was glowing. He never says a word. He just watches me with his eyes. It is spooky and it is scaring me.”

    Guinan stepped out of the shadows. “I have seen him as well.” She put her hand on Data’s shoulder as she walked past him.

    “I knew Q had something to do with this.” Commander Riker scoffed.

    “Have you ever looked at his face?” Guinan asked Beverly.

    “No, not really.”

    “Q is a mischievous being. We all know that he likes to play games. Mess with people’s minds. He looks sad to me. Almost depressed. That isn’t the face of a prankster.”

    “I have been so shaken by his presents to notice his face.” Beverly confessed.

  Worf shook his head. “I have seen him as well.” 

    “Mr. Worf?” The Captain asked.

    “When a warrior sees visions it is an omen. They always have a meaning. For me, he is pointing out the window.”

    “Into space.” Data was looking out the window of the ready-room. “What is out there? What are we supposed to find?”

    Captain Picard tapped his communicator. “Admiral Westerfield, join me in my ready-room.”

    The Admiral walked in to see all the senior staff and some lady waiting on him. 

    “Admiral, my crew are experiencing strange events that are interfering with their duties. Where are we going?”

    “That is classified.” Westerfield puffed out his chest.

    “As ships counselor, I think it is in the best interest of the crew if we stopped and evaluated our current situation. If these events get worse we need to go back.” Counselor Troi voiced. 

    “That is impossible, we cannot turn back. I will take command of this vessel if I have too.” Westerfield shouted.

    Wil glared at him.

    “Why am I not supposed to know the process behind deploying a Goodwill Ambassador? Why am I not supposed to know a Goodwill Ambassador? Why does it infuriate you so to think I do?” Data asked.

    “I don’t know what you are referring to?” Westerfield raised his chin with pride.

    Deanna was in shock.

    Data got up. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He fell backwards failing to catch himself with his chair, landing in the floor. He raised his head, opening his eyes. They were red; a shade of red that could only be described as the flames of hell red. If you looked at them too long, they might burn you. He got up walking slowly toward Westerfield.

    Westerfield began to roll his chair backwards. “Picard, control your officer.” He said with a shaky voice.

    “This officer took a personal interest in this mission when it began to make him ill.” Data growled. “You had better pray to whatever god you pray to that this is a rescue mission.” He continued to growl. He was acting like an animal defending itself.

    Guinan stepped between Data and Westerfield.

    “Guinan,” he stared at her. His voice became calm. He closed his eyes; because his head was spinning from all these wild thoughts. He tried to focus instead fell. This time Q caught him. He helped Data to his chair.

    “Data.” Q had taken a special interest in Data after he saved Q’s life.

    “Q”, he moaned. “You are scaring everyone.”

    Q looked around. “My deepest apologies.” He bowed.

    Data sank into his chair. Q wouldn’t let him fall in the floor again. There was pain on Data’s android face. His breathing was haggard. When he opened his eyes again, they were still red. 

    “Beta,” he hissed. “Leak.”

    “I do not!” Deanna took offence to the comment. She thought for a moment. “What do you mean Beta leak?”

    Data took a leap through the air lunging at Westerfield. Q caught him in midair, wrestling him to the floor.

    An Egyptian figure appeared out of nowhere. He was dressed in a white tunic. He hurled Q through the air like he was a ragdoll. Q  hit the wall with bone crushing force. “You were warned,” his voice was deep and harsh.

    “I am doing nothing wrong.” Q whimpered. 

    This stranger looked around the room. He pointed at Beverly, “really.”

    Q shrugged his shoulders then disappeared.

    He picked Data up, putting him back in his chair.

    After several minutes of struggling to breathe, Data came around. “Osiris?”

    The figure disappeared.

    “Westerfield I want answers.” Jean-Luc jumped to his feet, confronting his old friend.

    “I believe we all need to move to the bridge.” Data was looking out the window.

    “Why?” Jean-Luc snapped.

    “What is that?” Worf questioned.

    Everyone turned to look out the window.

   “To your stations,” Picard roared.

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

Found it

     Geordi stuck his arm into the wall, pulling it back. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then walked through the wall. When he opened his eyes, he saw the strange cylinder shaped dwelling that Data and Juliana saw.

    A woman screamed, as she broke free from the forest, running through the meadow. A figure that looked a lot like Data dressed all in black came running out after her. He quickly overtook her, wrestling her to the ground. Geordi ran over to them. He feared the worst. But he found a breath-taking creature sitting on Data’s lap. His arms were draped around her waist. “Do you know what I would like to do?” Data asked.

    “Tell me,” she giggled.

    He kissed her shoulder. “I would like to play connect all the brown spots on your skin.”

    “You mean play Connect-the-Dots?”

    “What is that?”

    “Oh, it’s a game you play. You connect dots to make a picture. We used to play it all the time. If you did that, I would be one big ink blob.”

    “What are these spots?” He kissed one.

    “Freckles.”

    “Freckles?”

    “Yes, mom used to say I was kissed by the sun. I wonder if she knew how right she was?”

    “Therefore freckles are caused by over exposure to the sun?”

    “Pretty much.”

    “I have a better idea. I want to kiss all your freckles.”

    She giggled and puckered her lips, “your mouth will be in a constant pucker.”

    “Okay.” He kissed her other shoulder.

    The image was gone. Geordi found himself standing in a room full of books. “You may read them anytime you like.” Data picked one off the shelf and began to read. Several hours later she came back. “Anything interesting?”

    “A question.”

    “Sure.”

    “I have read 100 of these books. To this point, 95% of them center on sexual behavior. Why?”

    “Most species spend a lot of time and energy attracting a mate. Not only is sex a means of reproduction but its fun. There is a song, some of the lyrics are, ‘sex is natural. Sex is good. Not everybody does it but everybody should.’”

    “Interesting.”

    The room changed. She was sitting on a settee. It was hand carved with a rich cherry finish and cream-colored fabric. There was a mirror off to her right.     

    “Eyes closed?” Data’s voice called from another room.

    She closed her eyes, “yes.”

    Data entered the room. He had on brown sandals, black shorts, and an oversized yellow Hawaiian print shirt.

    She laughed. Her voice was so alive. Her accent made Geordi’s spine tingle. “Oh heavens no darlin’. That shirt is not for you, I think you should try something different.”

    He reemerged with a dark shirt on. “Better?” He asked posing for her, smiling from ear to ear. 

    “Much,” she smiled. She got up and walked over to him. “I love clothing. They are so great. Each piece is different. Different texture. Different styles, its own sense of self.”

    “How?” 

    “Shall we dance?” They embraced to dance. The walls moved to reveal an extensive closet. They waltzed through the closet with their eyes closed. She brushed up against as many articles of clothing as she could. When they reached the end of the closet, she stopped them.

    “I see what you mean.”

    The room changed. Data was standing next to the couch in the study skimming over a book. Music filled the room; You can leave your hat on, by Joe Cocker. She slowly walked into the room wearing a trench coat, top hat, and black stilettos. Data threw the book away, pulled her to him and they started dancing to the song. Data quickly removed the trench revealing a black panty set. She was doing a strip tease and Data knew all the right counter moves. 

    With the next scene change, Geordi was standing next to the pond that he had seen on the holodeck when Data missed the poker game. Data was sitting under the weeping willow; she was entangled in his arms. Her head was lying on his chest.  “You do realize that Noonien dislikes me?”

    “Why would you say that?” Data asked.

    “You are not moving in the direction that he wants you to. Like every child, you are experiencing the world on your own.”

    “He has never said anything to me.”

    “And I wager he will not.”

    Data moved her so that she was facing him with no effort at all. He kissed her. “I am a better android because of you.”

    She giggled, “do share.”

    “I love you.”

    She reached up and kissed him.

    All the images disappeared. The holodeck returned to its normal state. Data was sitting in the floor, crying.

    “Data?” Geordi asked with concern.

    He just moved his hands around. Geordi set in the floor with him. “They are all true,” he sobbed. “All the dreams are true.”

    “So that was the missing memory cell?”

    Data sat up on his knees. His face was stained with yellow tears. “Yes, 10 years of my life is compressed into that cell. 10 obviously wonderful years Noonien hid from me.”

    “Who is she?”

    Data was shaking. His lips quivered when he spoke. “The love of my life.” He gagged. “I am going to be sick.”