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

Second meeting

    Data climbed a rocky cliff just outside the colony boundary to see what he could see. On top of the cliff sat the strange creature he and Julianna had encountered the day before glancing over her right shoulder. “Are your shoes always so shiny?”

    He looked down at his shoes, “yes.”  

    “You just climbed a mountain. They should at least be dusty.” She had a strange accent that made him shiver.

    “You do not sound like anyone here.”

    “Oh no,” she scolded, “the subject for discussion is your shiny shoes. That’s just unnatural.”

    He sat down beside of her, “I am Data.”

    “For the volumes of information you can process and store.” She cocked her head to one side and stared around him. Her voice was very monotone, “DaTa, factual information (as measurement or statistics) used as a basis for reasoning, discussion, or calculation. Information in numerical form that can be processed or transmitted digitally.” She straightened her head back up. He was unaware that she was imitating him. “I am Scheherezade.”

    “I am unfamiliar with that name.”

    “As the story goes, she had an unnatural ability to tell stories.”

    “I am unnatural?” It seemed more of a question to her than a statement.

    “Yes, the colony of androids.”

    “I am the only one.”

    She stared at him, “hmm umm.” She got up. Her light blue sundress gently blew with the breeze. The breeze picked up a strand of her red hair brushing it into her face. Something about her captivated him. She tossed him a collar. “Leave the animals alone. They are mine.”

    He jerked, rolling over in his sleep. “Why now?” He moaned. “Why?” A wave of pain drug him back to sleep.

    He was walking, walking through the field he had recreated on the holodeck. This time it felt different, more alive. That essential piece of the program that was missing before wasn’t missing now.

    His head was spinning. The willow tree next to the pond looked inviting. The closer he got to the tree the more uncomfortable he became. He grabbed ahold of the tree with his eyes closed. He was having a hard time breathing. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a pair of leather-stitched black sandals, next a pair of black pants. Then a frog belly button ring; topped with a black sports bra. Her chest was moving much too rapidly.

    “Hey,” he lifted her head. “Sher?”

    She was still struggling to breathe. “Sher?” Her face was hot. “Sher!” Data screamed. He woke himself up, surprised to find that he was covered in a cold sweat. “What is happening to me?” He asked. “I do not understand.” 

    He heard a soft sweet voice in the back of his mind, “DaTa.”

    “No,” he cried. “No. I cannot endure this.” He tried to occupy himself with other things. He read the days duty roster. He paced back and forth in his quarters. Finally, he got a book. Maybe reading would keep his mind from wondering. “The Iliad,” was the book for the night. Two chapters into the poem his mind drifted again. 

*

Guinan

https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Guinan

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

https://memorydelta.fandom.com/wiki/Noonien_Soong

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.

*

Omicron Theta

https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Omicron_Theta

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.

*

Q

https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Q