Rollercoaster - Seating Arrangements
May. 3rd, 2010 11:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
r_scribblesMore Rollercoaster - set a few weeks before the beginning of Nemesis. Just the one chapter to this one.
ROLLERCOASTER
-x-
Seating Arrangements
-x-
After their shift had ended, as was their custom, they walked together from the Bridge to their quarters. As was their custom, she allowed him to enter the room before her, then stepped in after him and announced ‘Honey, I’m home’.
He turned brightly to her, momentarily pretending that he had not seen her all day – as was their custom.
‘Oh. Hello. How was your day?’
‘OK. That guy on Ops kept looking across at me again, though. I think he might have a crush on me.’
‘The nerve. Would you like me to have a stern word with him?’
‘Nah.’ Tasha became distracted by a small envelope under her foot. ‘He’s quite cute. And I hear he’s fantastic in bed.’
‘I heard that, too. At least, his girlfriend apparently has no complaints.’ Data watched Tasha retrieve the envelope from the sole of her shoe. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s mail.’
‘Mail?’
‘Mail.’
‘On a Starship?’
‘Apparently so.’ Tasha pulled a silver card from the envelope. Her eyes lit up with recognition before she had even read the text. ‘Oh, I know what this is! “Counsellor Deanna Troi and Commander William T. Riker cordially request the company of Lieutenant Commander Natasha Yar” – that’s me – “and Lieutenant Commander Data” – that’s you – “to…” Oh, looks like they are having a ceremony on Betazed as well as one on the ship after all.’ Tasha sank down into a chair, still looking at the card. ‘That’ll be interesting. I mean, you’ll be OK, but have you seen Deanna Troi naked? Yow. I’m willing to bet there’ll be a lot of male guests who’ll have to watch some or all of that wedding ceremony with uncomfortably arranged limbs…’
‘Has the receipt of this invitation distressed you in any way, Tasha?’
Tasha looked up at him, perturbed. ‘What makes you ask that?’
‘You appear to be nervous. You are… babbling.’
‘You’re the one who babbles when he’s nervous.’
‘Perhaps you have acquired the trait from me. Nevertheless, you do appear to have been unsettled by the invite.’ He paused, considering the many aspects of Tasha’s life that a wedding invitation could cause her to feel concerned about. One in particular seemed glaringly obvious.
‘Is it because they are due to leave for the Titan soon after they are wed?
‘First I lose Worf,’ replied Tasha with a sigh, ‘now my two other best friends are skipping off to pastures new, hand in hand. I’m gonna miss them horribly.’
Data searched Tasha’s expression. Conversing frankly with her had become so familiar that he could tell from her demeanour nowadays when she was withholding something.
‘That is not all,’ he deduced, ‘is it?’
Tasha seemed to be irked now. She held her tongue, however – a sure sign that he was correct, since she had promised him during the make-up to a bitter argument that she would never again tell him an untruth – even if she believed at the time that it would benefit him to be lied to.
Suddenly, without her having to tell him, he knew what it was. A ‘gut-level instinct’, as Geordi would put it, and although Data did not have any ‘guts’, he felt it still.
‘Commander Riker has been given the task of hand-picking the senior crew that he will Captain upon the Titan,’ Data noted. ‘He has always displayed faith in you for your ability to perform the role of First Officer… some might even say that he has been specifically grooming you for the position…’ Data watched Tasha, carefully. ‘Would you consider taking that post aboard the Titan, should he offer it to you?’
‘I’m not leaving the Enterprise, Data. I like it here. It’s my home – the first home I’ve ever really had…’
‘Is that not what you said about the Enterprise D?’
‘A ship’s more than conduits and rivets, Data. This is as much the Enterprise as the old ship – it’s still home. And I won’t leave.’
‘Why not?’
Tasha just stared at him.
‘At 27 years of age, you were one of the youngest Starfleet Officers ever to be trusted with the position of Security and Tactical Chief,’ Data reminded her. ‘That was an amazing achievement, especially considering that when you escaped Turkana City you were barely literate. You are now 42 years old, and still at the same post that you held 15 years ago…’
‘So are you.’
‘That is irrelevant. Even since I have been able to run with emotions, my career has never been driven by ambition. Yours has. I believe that it still is. Why would you not take a promotion to First Officer, especially under the command of a man who you know, trust and respect?’
‘I don’t want to leave the Enterprise,’ repeated Tasha.
There was a pause. Data regarded her, closely.
‘You have already been approached by Commander Riker to serve as his First Officer, have you not?’
Tasha looked around their quarters blankly, steadfastly refusing his gaze. ‘Shall we get a cat, Data? I think it’d be nice to have a little puss to come home to. Besides, cats being better than dogs is one of the few things we manage to agree on…’
‘Kindly do not change the subject! You have already turned Commander Riker down. Is that correct?’
Tasha’s glance confirmed that this was the case.
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Tasha aped. ‘You know why, Data.’
‘I must admit that I do not.’
‘Because you’d follow me.’ It was apparently Tasha’s turn to allow an accusatory expression to cast upon her features. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
Data took a moment to run the potential situation and its multiple possible outcomes through. ‘Yes. I believe that I would.’
‘Will was frank with me when he asked me about the Titan job. As much as he likes and respects you, it’s me he wants as First Officer. He’d find you a place on the senior crew, but he admitted it himself, it would be unlikely to make good use of your extraordinary capabilities, and it would almost definitely be a step down from where you are now. Who would want to do that to you? Certainly not me or Will.’
‘It does not matter,’ insisted Data.
‘Yes it does!’ Tasha got to her feet, as if propelled there by a sudden burst of energetic rage. ‘You do know that as far as the Captain’s concerned, Will’s chair is practically yours already, don’t you?’
‘I have not approached the Captain for a promotion…’
‘What difference does that make? You’re Second Officer. It’s a natural progression…’
‘Not necessarily…’
‘No, not necessarily, but in this case it is a closed shop, Data. Believe me. William Riker might have been grooming me for the First Officer job, but not Jean-Luc Picard. Our Captain, with the knowledge that Will’s had his eyes on Captaincy for some time, has been training one Officer to be his next right hand man. You’re his next Number One. I know it, everyone on the ship knows it, and I don’t believe for a moment that you don’t know it. You are so close to getting one step nearer to the Captain’s chair, and on the Enterprise – the finest in the fleet. I’m not gonna let you become some lowly Science Officer on the Titan for my sake.’
‘So you refused the offer?’ Data could feel a familiar tight sensation in his chest and throat – the feeling that he got whenever Tasha infuriated him. He had grown very used to it over the years. ‘Without even consulting me?’
‘I knew if I talked to you about it you’d do your best to talk me out of it.’
‘You have just refused the best opportunity of fifteen years of service, all for the sake of a single step up the chain of command for me – a step that is flattery which I do not seek, power that I do not crave…’
‘It’s a new challenge. Heaven knows you need one of those.’
‘You are challenging enough at present!’
‘You see,’ continued Tasha, ‘this is another reason I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d get upset. And I knew it’d poison your own promotion for you.’
‘Do have any idea how patronising that is?’
‘Kinda. But really, Data, this isn’t worth fighting over. I’ve already turned Will down. What are you gonna do – turn Jean-Luc down too, out of petty… Uh-oh.’ Tasha blinked at him, suddenly, as they both realised the implications of what she’d just said.
Without another word, Data turned and left their quarters.
‘Data, no,’ Tasha pleaded as he hastened out of the door. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t cut your nose off to spite your face.’
He quickly followed the corridor towards the Turbolift as she continued to call after him.
‘Your face won’t know what to do with itself! Your nose is such a big part in its life. Data! See what I did there? I insulted your appearance! Forget the Captain, come back here and yell at me again. Data!’
He rounded the corner and tried his best to ignore her cries. That she was not following him was telling enough that she comprehended his resolve. He was going to the Captain, and that was that.
-x-
Data was aware that he had entered the Captain’s ready room in an agitated state. The Captain’s expression was one of quiet concern.
‘It doesn’t take an empath to see that something’s weighing heavily on your mind, Mister Data,’ the Captain noted. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Sir,’ replied Data, aware that his emotional responses had now reached an intensity that was, if not dangerous to him, then at least capable of impeding his capacity for logical reason, yet continuing nevertheless, ‘I must request that I am removed as a candidate for the forthcoming position of First Officer of the Enterprise.’
Captain Picard sat back in his chair, regarding him. ‘Indeed…?’
‘Indeed, Sir. I am content where I am. I do not age – who is to say how many years I have in which to climb the ranks of Starfleet, as and when I see fit?’
‘As and when you see fit…?’ echoed Picard.
‘You must be aware that Commander Riker himself has always viewed Lieutenant Commander Yar as being superlative First Officer material…’
‘Yes. I know. Besides, even if I hadn’t known before last week, the fact that he tried to headhunt her for the Titan would have been quite the tip-off.’
‘You knew about that, Captain?’
The Captain nodded. ‘And I know she turned it down. She must love you terribly.’
‘Horribly, Sir.’
‘So you’re making a great sacrifice in the face of hers,’ surmised Picard. ‘You’re refusing the post of First Officer so that she may be offered it in turn.’
‘And if I am…?’
‘If you are, Lieutenant Commander, then this may well count as the most presumptuous, the most insulting, the most idiotic thing that you have ever said to me.’
Data blinked. ‘Sir…?’
‘You presume that you’re the only one in the running for Will’s job, and that if you refuse the post, Tasha would be the only other option. I won’t lie to you, Data – you’re a favourite, as is Tasha, but you’re far from alone. First Officer of the Enterprise one of the most prized positions in the whole of Starfleet. It is not a gift umbrella for you to return or exchange as you please. There are scores of exemplary Officers snapping at my heels for this post. Presume nothing, Mister Data, and do not insult me as a Captain or as a friend by assuming that you can swing my decision one way or the other simply because I like you.’ The Captain paused. ‘Because I do like you, Data. Tasha too. Perhaps one of these days when our service together is at an end I’ll drink one Cognac too many and tell you just how far that fondness extends. Perhaps too far. Perhaps both you and Commander Yar have become too close to kin now for me to comfortably take either of you as my First Officer. Shelby’s interested. More than interested – she’s hungry for the job. So much so that I imagine, if I were to leave you at Ops and give Will’s chair to Tasha, she’d start raising merry Hell over the fact that I’d just assigned the First and Second Officer posts of Starfleet’s flagship to what is, for all states and purposes, a married couple.’
‘Tasha and I are not married…’
‘You share your quarters as though you were,’ retorted Picard. ‘It still counts. It’s still too close for comfort, as far as many onlookers will be concerned.’
‘Sir…’ Data faltered, confused. ‘A moment ago, you admitted that both Tasha and I are favourites for promotion to First Officer. Yet, now you appear to be resigned that neither of us have the chance of being awarded the post, as a result of our relationships with one another, and to you…’
‘Of course you have a chance. And the irony is, I’m not sure that I’d have considered either of you if it hadn’t been for the way that you’ve affected one another.’
Data still felt as though he was several pages behind the Captain in whichever invisible script it was that their dialogue was issuing from. ‘I do not understand.’
Captain Picard smiled a distant, wistful smile. People had been doing that a lot since Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi had announced their plans to marry and leave the ship. He had even found himself doing the same on occasion. Apparently, romantic unions and social separations were quite the catalysts for bringing about a sentiment of nostalgia in one.
‘The Lieutenant Commander Data and Lieutenant Yar that I had the honour of meeting fifteen years ago were both outstanding Officers,’ Picard told him, ‘but neither were material for First Officer – certainly not one that I could work with. There was this woman… this girl of 27… so focused, so dedicated… but so angry, so impetuous, so very impatient. And the android… swift, strong, a miraculous mind - but lacking in passion. Now, I’m not going to say that emotions are a prerequisite of being a good First Officer – many Vulcans, for example, have excelled in that role. But I don’t need a Vulcan at my right hand – I need a Will Riker. I need somebody who has both patience and passion. I believe that it was falling in love with you, Data, and waiting for all those years for you, that taught our Commander Yar the art of patience. And loving her has, in kind, taught you to rage, and to regret, and to rejoice. She has made a passionate man of you, Mister Data - to the point of being a considerable pain in the derriere on occasion.’
Data chose to take that as a compliment. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘You still look confused,’ noted the Captain.
‘I am still confused, Sir.’
Picard nodded to himself. ‘So am I. If you think I keep talking round in circles, well… that’s because I am. I’ve been doing this for days now. I’m going to have to make the decision soon. I just wanted to impress upon you quite what a difficult decision it’s proving to be. But please, Data. Don’t ever dare to try to make that decision for me.’
Data nodded. ‘Of course. My apologies.’ He turned to leave, stopped, and turned back again. ‘May we keep a cat?’
‘A cat?’
‘A cat. A domestic cat. Felis Catus. As a pet…’
‘Yes, I gathered that. What’s brought this on?’
‘She said that she would like to have one. I believe that I would like one, too. It seems that we are both “cat people”… are you a “cat person”, Sir?’
The Captain gave a vague shrug. ‘You know the regulations on pets.’
‘It would be kept in our quarters at all times, save for emergencies,’ Data assured, ‘as well as thoroughly screened for disease or any other potential threat to the ongoing functions of the ship and wellbeing of its crew…’
‘Just get the damn cat,’ interrupted the Captain. ‘You know as well as I do that you don’t need any dispensation from me.’
‘Of course, Sir,’ replied Data. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
-x-
Picard watched Data leave.
A cat. He comes storming in, full of righteous indignation, trying to make my choices for me, and he leaves a few minutes later, happily placated with a cat.
He stopped himself from muttering something fondly unsavoury about the android to himself, on the grounds that, with Data being just outside the closed ready room doors, he would still be able to hear him and, unless considerable damage had recently been done to his language files that Picard wasn’t aware of, would still be able to understand French.
I mean, a cat. Why did he even ask my permission? What does he think I am – his father?
He smiled to himself again.
One Cognac too many. That’s all it would take. That’s all it would take to make an ass of himself. That’s all it would take to go from “if I’d had sons and daughters, I hope they’d have been like you” to “you’re the sons and daughters I never had” to “you are my sons and my daughters – you are the only family that I have any more, and that is more than enough for me, because I love you so”.
He would never drink one Cognac too many. He would never say those things aloud and embarrass them all by verbalising the depths of his love. He hadn’t done it when Wesley had left; he hadn’t done it when Worf had left; he wouldn’t do it when Will and Deanna left. He would continue to love them, and hope that they understood that he loved them. He would never drink that one Cognac too many.
He was pulled from his reverie by the same nagging thought that had been keeping him awake for several nights – Will was leaving. He needed a replacement. While he had been honest with Data that scores had applied for the post, there were, in his mind, only three clear choices – Data, or Tasha, or Selby.
He had thought and thought, and weighed up every conceivable outcome of every decision over and over again. He couldn’t even say for sure what his gut instinct was telling him. All he had left were three names.
Data or Tasha or Selby, oh my.
Data or Tasha or Selby, oh my.
He shook his head. He didn’t even realise that he was on his feet until he noticed that he was at the bookshelf. His hands, running over the books’ spines, seemed to know what to do before his brain had caught up with them. It was only as he picked out ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’ that his logic kicked in to gear. She had got him that book – inscribed by the author, of course. Her little joke. He turned carefully to the end of the elderly, beautifully preserved novel. On the back page, she had written the details of where she could now be contacted, following her understandable decision not to run the risk of being in any more spaceship crashes.
It was only as her lagoon-calm countenance appeared on his vidiscreen that he wondered what time of day or night it was for her. Not that it seemed to matter. She was the sort of person who could be called on for advice at any time of any day.
She was, in Picard’s opinion, the very model of the perfect Barkeep.
She smiled an old smile, as comfortable as soft, warm linen. ‘Jean-Luc. To what do I owe the honour?’
‘Guinan,’ he smiled in return. ‘I have... a difficult task ahead of me.’
‘Go ahead. I’m listening.’
ROLLERCOASTER
-x-
Seating Arrangements
-x-
After their shift had ended, as was their custom, they walked together from the Bridge to their quarters. As was their custom, she allowed him to enter the room before her, then stepped in after him and announced ‘Honey, I’m home’.
He turned brightly to her, momentarily pretending that he had not seen her all day – as was their custom.
‘Oh. Hello. How was your day?’
‘OK. That guy on Ops kept looking across at me again, though. I think he might have a crush on me.’
‘The nerve. Would you like me to have a stern word with him?’
‘Nah.’ Tasha became distracted by a small envelope under her foot. ‘He’s quite cute. And I hear he’s fantastic in bed.’
‘I heard that, too. At least, his girlfriend apparently has no complaints.’ Data watched Tasha retrieve the envelope from the sole of her shoe. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s mail.’
‘Mail?’
‘Mail.’
‘On a Starship?’
‘Apparently so.’ Tasha pulled a silver card from the envelope. Her eyes lit up with recognition before she had even read the text. ‘Oh, I know what this is! “Counsellor Deanna Troi and Commander William T. Riker cordially request the company of Lieutenant Commander Natasha Yar” – that’s me – “and Lieutenant Commander Data” – that’s you – “to…” Oh, looks like they are having a ceremony on Betazed as well as one on the ship after all.’ Tasha sank down into a chair, still looking at the card. ‘That’ll be interesting. I mean, you’ll be OK, but have you seen Deanna Troi naked? Yow. I’m willing to bet there’ll be a lot of male guests who’ll have to watch some or all of that wedding ceremony with uncomfortably arranged limbs…’
‘Has the receipt of this invitation distressed you in any way, Tasha?’
Tasha looked up at him, perturbed. ‘What makes you ask that?’
‘You appear to be nervous. You are… babbling.’
‘You’re the one who babbles when he’s nervous.’
‘Perhaps you have acquired the trait from me. Nevertheless, you do appear to have been unsettled by the invite.’ He paused, considering the many aspects of Tasha’s life that a wedding invitation could cause her to feel concerned about. One in particular seemed glaringly obvious.
‘Is it because they are due to leave for the Titan soon after they are wed?
‘First I lose Worf,’ replied Tasha with a sigh, ‘now my two other best friends are skipping off to pastures new, hand in hand. I’m gonna miss them horribly.’
Data searched Tasha’s expression. Conversing frankly with her had become so familiar that he could tell from her demeanour nowadays when she was withholding something.
‘That is not all,’ he deduced, ‘is it?’
Tasha seemed to be irked now. She held her tongue, however – a sure sign that he was correct, since she had promised him during the make-up to a bitter argument that she would never again tell him an untruth – even if she believed at the time that it would benefit him to be lied to.
Suddenly, without her having to tell him, he knew what it was. A ‘gut-level instinct’, as Geordi would put it, and although Data did not have any ‘guts’, he felt it still.
‘Commander Riker has been given the task of hand-picking the senior crew that he will Captain upon the Titan,’ Data noted. ‘He has always displayed faith in you for your ability to perform the role of First Officer… some might even say that he has been specifically grooming you for the position…’ Data watched Tasha, carefully. ‘Would you consider taking that post aboard the Titan, should he offer it to you?’
‘I’m not leaving the Enterprise, Data. I like it here. It’s my home – the first home I’ve ever really had…’
‘Is that not what you said about the Enterprise D?’
‘A ship’s more than conduits and rivets, Data. This is as much the Enterprise as the old ship – it’s still home. And I won’t leave.’
‘Why not?’
Tasha just stared at him.
‘At 27 years of age, you were one of the youngest Starfleet Officers ever to be trusted with the position of Security and Tactical Chief,’ Data reminded her. ‘That was an amazing achievement, especially considering that when you escaped Turkana City you were barely literate. You are now 42 years old, and still at the same post that you held 15 years ago…’
‘So are you.’
‘That is irrelevant. Even since I have been able to run with emotions, my career has never been driven by ambition. Yours has. I believe that it still is. Why would you not take a promotion to First Officer, especially under the command of a man who you know, trust and respect?’
‘I don’t want to leave the Enterprise,’ repeated Tasha.
There was a pause. Data regarded her, closely.
‘You have already been approached by Commander Riker to serve as his First Officer, have you not?’
Tasha looked around their quarters blankly, steadfastly refusing his gaze. ‘Shall we get a cat, Data? I think it’d be nice to have a little puss to come home to. Besides, cats being better than dogs is one of the few things we manage to agree on…’
‘Kindly do not change the subject! You have already turned Commander Riker down. Is that correct?’
Tasha’s glance confirmed that this was the case.
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Tasha aped. ‘You know why, Data.’
‘I must admit that I do not.’
‘Because you’d follow me.’ It was apparently Tasha’s turn to allow an accusatory expression to cast upon her features. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
Data took a moment to run the potential situation and its multiple possible outcomes through. ‘Yes. I believe that I would.’
‘Will was frank with me when he asked me about the Titan job. As much as he likes and respects you, it’s me he wants as First Officer. He’d find you a place on the senior crew, but he admitted it himself, it would be unlikely to make good use of your extraordinary capabilities, and it would almost definitely be a step down from where you are now. Who would want to do that to you? Certainly not me or Will.’
‘It does not matter,’ insisted Data.
‘Yes it does!’ Tasha got to her feet, as if propelled there by a sudden burst of energetic rage. ‘You do know that as far as the Captain’s concerned, Will’s chair is practically yours already, don’t you?’
‘I have not approached the Captain for a promotion…’
‘What difference does that make? You’re Second Officer. It’s a natural progression…’
‘Not necessarily…’
‘No, not necessarily, but in this case it is a closed shop, Data. Believe me. William Riker might have been grooming me for the First Officer job, but not Jean-Luc Picard. Our Captain, with the knowledge that Will’s had his eyes on Captaincy for some time, has been training one Officer to be his next right hand man. You’re his next Number One. I know it, everyone on the ship knows it, and I don’t believe for a moment that you don’t know it. You are so close to getting one step nearer to the Captain’s chair, and on the Enterprise – the finest in the fleet. I’m not gonna let you become some lowly Science Officer on the Titan for my sake.’
‘So you refused the offer?’ Data could feel a familiar tight sensation in his chest and throat – the feeling that he got whenever Tasha infuriated him. He had grown very used to it over the years. ‘Without even consulting me?’
‘I knew if I talked to you about it you’d do your best to talk me out of it.’
‘You have just refused the best opportunity of fifteen years of service, all for the sake of a single step up the chain of command for me – a step that is flattery which I do not seek, power that I do not crave…’
‘It’s a new challenge. Heaven knows you need one of those.’
‘You are challenging enough at present!’
‘You see,’ continued Tasha, ‘this is another reason I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d get upset. And I knew it’d poison your own promotion for you.’
‘Do have any idea how patronising that is?’
‘Kinda. But really, Data, this isn’t worth fighting over. I’ve already turned Will down. What are you gonna do – turn Jean-Luc down too, out of petty… Uh-oh.’ Tasha blinked at him, suddenly, as they both realised the implications of what she’d just said.
Without another word, Data turned and left their quarters.
‘Data, no,’ Tasha pleaded as he hastened out of the door. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t cut your nose off to spite your face.’
He quickly followed the corridor towards the Turbolift as she continued to call after him.
‘Your face won’t know what to do with itself! Your nose is such a big part in its life. Data! See what I did there? I insulted your appearance! Forget the Captain, come back here and yell at me again. Data!’
He rounded the corner and tried his best to ignore her cries. That she was not following him was telling enough that she comprehended his resolve. He was going to the Captain, and that was that.
-x-
Data was aware that he had entered the Captain’s ready room in an agitated state. The Captain’s expression was one of quiet concern.
‘It doesn’t take an empath to see that something’s weighing heavily on your mind, Mister Data,’ the Captain noted. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Sir,’ replied Data, aware that his emotional responses had now reached an intensity that was, if not dangerous to him, then at least capable of impeding his capacity for logical reason, yet continuing nevertheless, ‘I must request that I am removed as a candidate for the forthcoming position of First Officer of the Enterprise.’
Captain Picard sat back in his chair, regarding him. ‘Indeed…?’
‘Indeed, Sir. I am content where I am. I do not age – who is to say how many years I have in which to climb the ranks of Starfleet, as and when I see fit?’
‘As and when you see fit…?’ echoed Picard.
‘You must be aware that Commander Riker himself has always viewed Lieutenant Commander Yar as being superlative First Officer material…’
‘Yes. I know. Besides, even if I hadn’t known before last week, the fact that he tried to headhunt her for the Titan would have been quite the tip-off.’
‘You knew about that, Captain?’
The Captain nodded. ‘And I know she turned it down. She must love you terribly.’
‘Horribly, Sir.’
‘So you’re making a great sacrifice in the face of hers,’ surmised Picard. ‘You’re refusing the post of First Officer so that she may be offered it in turn.’
‘And if I am…?’
‘If you are, Lieutenant Commander, then this may well count as the most presumptuous, the most insulting, the most idiotic thing that you have ever said to me.’
Data blinked. ‘Sir…?’
‘You presume that you’re the only one in the running for Will’s job, and that if you refuse the post, Tasha would be the only other option. I won’t lie to you, Data – you’re a favourite, as is Tasha, but you’re far from alone. First Officer of the Enterprise one of the most prized positions in the whole of Starfleet. It is not a gift umbrella for you to return or exchange as you please. There are scores of exemplary Officers snapping at my heels for this post. Presume nothing, Mister Data, and do not insult me as a Captain or as a friend by assuming that you can swing my decision one way or the other simply because I like you.’ The Captain paused. ‘Because I do like you, Data. Tasha too. Perhaps one of these days when our service together is at an end I’ll drink one Cognac too many and tell you just how far that fondness extends. Perhaps too far. Perhaps both you and Commander Yar have become too close to kin now for me to comfortably take either of you as my First Officer. Shelby’s interested. More than interested – she’s hungry for the job. So much so that I imagine, if I were to leave you at Ops and give Will’s chair to Tasha, she’d start raising merry Hell over the fact that I’d just assigned the First and Second Officer posts of Starfleet’s flagship to what is, for all states and purposes, a married couple.’
‘Tasha and I are not married…’
‘You share your quarters as though you were,’ retorted Picard. ‘It still counts. It’s still too close for comfort, as far as many onlookers will be concerned.’
‘Sir…’ Data faltered, confused. ‘A moment ago, you admitted that both Tasha and I are favourites for promotion to First Officer. Yet, now you appear to be resigned that neither of us have the chance of being awarded the post, as a result of our relationships with one another, and to you…’
‘Of course you have a chance. And the irony is, I’m not sure that I’d have considered either of you if it hadn’t been for the way that you’ve affected one another.’
Data still felt as though he was several pages behind the Captain in whichever invisible script it was that their dialogue was issuing from. ‘I do not understand.’
Captain Picard smiled a distant, wistful smile. People had been doing that a lot since Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi had announced their plans to marry and leave the ship. He had even found himself doing the same on occasion. Apparently, romantic unions and social separations were quite the catalysts for bringing about a sentiment of nostalgia in one.
‘The Lieutenant Commander Data and Lieutenant Yar that I had the honour of meeting fifteen years ago were both outstanding Officers,’ Picard told him, ‘but neither were material for First Officer – certainly not one that I could work with. There was this woman… this girl of 27… so focused, so dedicated… but so angry, so impetuous, so very impatient. And the android… swift, strong, a miraculous mind - but lacking in passion. Now, I’m not going to say that emotions are a prerequisite of being a good First Officer – many Vulcans, for example, have excelled in that role. But I don’t need a Vulcan at my right hand – I need a Will Riker. I need somebody who has both patience and passion. I believe that it was falling in love with you, Data, and waiting for all those years for you, that taught our Commander Yar the art of patience. And loving her has, in kind, taught you to rage, and to regret, and to rejoice. She has made a passionate man of you, Mister Data - to the point of being a considerable pain in the derriere on occasion.’
Data chose to take that as a compliment. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘You still look confused,’ noted the Captain.
‘I am still confused, Sir.’
Picard nodded to himself. ‘So am I. If you think I keep talking round in circles, well… that’s because I am. I’ve been doing this for days now. I’m going to have to make the decision soon. I just wanted to impress upon you quite what a difficult decision it’s proving to be. But please, Data. Don’t ever dare to try to make that decision for me.’
Data nodded. ‘Of course. My apologies.’ He turned to leave, stopped, and turned back again. ‘May we keep a cat?’
‘A cat?’
‘A cat. A domestic cat. Felis Catus. As a pet…’
‘Yes, I gathered that. What’s brought this on?’
‘She said that she would like to have one. I believe that I would like one, too. It seems that we are both “cat people”… are you a “cat person”, Sir?’
The Captain gave a vague shrug. ‘You know the regulations on pets.’
‘It would be kept in our quarters at all times, save for emergencies,’ Data assured, ‘as well as thoroughly screened for disease or any other potential threat to the ongoing functions of the ship and wellbeing of its crew…’
‘Just get the damn cat,’ interrupted the Captain. ‘You know as well as I do that you don’t need any dispensation from me.’
‘Of course, Sir,’ replied Data. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
-x-
Picard watched Data leave.
A cat. He comes storming in, full of righteous indignation, trying to make my choices for me, and he leaves a few minutes later, happily placated with a cat.
He stopped himself from muttering something fondly unsavoury about the android to himself, on the grounds that, with Data being just outside the closed ready room doors, he would still be able to hear him and, unless considerable damage had recently been done to his language files that Picard wasn’t aware of, would still be able to understand French.
I mean, a cat. Why did he even ask my permission? What does he think I am – his father?
He smiled to himself again.
One Cognac too many. That’s all it would take. That’s all it would take to make an ass of himself. That’s all it would take to go from “if I’d had sons and daughters, I hope they’d have been like you” to “you’re the sons and daughters I never had” to “you are my sons and my daughters – you are the only family that I have any more, and that is more than enough for me, because I love you so”.
He would never drink one Cognac too many. He would never say those things aloud and embarrass them all by verbalising the depths of his love. He hadn’t done it when Wesley had left; he hadn’t done it when Worf had left; he wouldn’t do it when Will and Deanna left. He would continue to love them, and hope that they understood that he loved them. He would never drink that one Cognac too many.
He was pulled from his reverie by the same nagging thought that had been keeping him awake for several nights – Will was leaving. He needed a replacement. While he had been honest with Data that scores had applied for the post, there were, in his mind, only three clear choices – Data, or Tasha, or Selby.
He had thought and thought, and weighed up every conceivable outcome of every decision over and over again. He couldn’t even say for sure what his gut instinct was telling him. All he had left were three names.
Data or Tasha or Selby, oh my.
Data or Tasha or Selby, oh my.
He shook his head. He didn’t even realise that he was on his feet until he noticed that he was at the bookshelf. His hands, running over the books’ spines, seemed to know what to do before his brain had caught up with them. It was only as he picked out ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’ that his logic kicked in to gear. She had got him that book – inscribed by the author, of course. Her little joke. He turned carefully to the end of the elderly, beautifully preserved novel. On the back page, she had written the details of where she could now be contacted, following her understandable decision not to run the risk of being in any more spaceship crashes.
It was only as her lagoon-calm countenance appeared on his vidiscreen that he wondered what time of day or night it was for her. Not that it seemed to matter. She was the sort of person who could be called on for advice at any time of any day.
She was, in Picard’s opinion, the very model of the perfect Barkeep.
She smiled an old smile, as comfortable as soft, warm linen. ‘Jean-Luc. To what do I owe the honour?’
‘Guinan,’ he smiled in return. ‘I have... a difficult task ahead of me.’
‘Go ahead. I’m listening.’
