Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Curious," Data said, his pale eyes peering at the shuttlecraft sensor display.

"What is it?" asked Riker, glancing up from the helm. It was a fairly routine survey, charting an anomaly they had noticed on long-range sensors. The Enterprise was busy with a diplomatic mission on a nearby Klingon world. It had been a nearly 3 hour shuttle ride to get to the anomaly, and, thanks to orbital mechanics, it would be even longer getting back.

"I have detected a sudden increase in radiation output from the anomaly. Beta particles 10 percent above baseline, neutrons 15 percent, and there is a barely measurable chroniton output."

"Chronitons?" Riker said, alarmed, his hands moving to the controls. There was a low hum as the impulse engines activated. "I'm moving us away from the anomaly." 

"I need to be within 500 meters for optimal sensor fidelity, sir. The readings are ten times below actionable levels per regulations." He looked back at the rising sensor readings from the anomaly as they sped away. "Eight times lower now," he corrected himself.  "Seven times," Data continued, eyes fixed on the screen. "Five. Sir, I would like to retract my previous objection."

A moment later there was a flash as the pale, wispy anomaly burst into a blinding white, spreading and branching across the viewscreen like a bolt of lightning. The impulse engines screamed. 

"It doesn't look like we're moving away from it," Riker said, squinting at the controls in the bright light. 

Data looked down at the sensors, clinging to the console with one arm as bursts of energy buffeted the shuttlecraft. "The anomaly is growing faster than we are moving."

"Going to warp," Riker said, but before he could lay in a course the light engulfed them. There was a brief flash of grey dust and craters on the viewscreen, then he was thrown from his chair.

Data awoke, mid-diagnostic, to an internal alarm from a thermal sensor. He opened his eyes to see orange flames spreading across his right arm. He stood and quickly walked to a cabinet in a nearby bulkhead.

"Data?" Riker called out from a heap under the console. He sounded groggy. "Are you on fire?"

"Just my arm, sir." Data pulled a fire extinguisher from the cabinet with his good arm and activated it. It hissed quietly and the flames shrank to nothing. "The situation has been resolved." With the thermal alarm silenced, his emergency diagnostics resumed, and he fell against the deck with a thud.

"Data?" Riker called out again. He lifted himself onto his arms. A wave of nausea hit him, and the shuttlecraft seemed to spin around him. He let out a quiet whimper as the throbbing in his head rose. Little by little, he managed to drag himself over to where Data was lying, unnaturally still and rigid.

Riker sat a moment, fighting another wave of nausea and trying to adjust to overhead lights, which suddenly seemed far too bright. His thoughts felt like they were moving through molasses, but a few fragments of first aid training managed to pushed their way into his mind. Step 1: assess. There was an unmistakable smell of plasma. When he managed to get his eyes to focus, he saw that the sleeve of Data's uniform was burnt and torn and that the thick, white polymer that made up his skin had melted and burned away in places, revealing charred circuitry. A thin liquid, faintly yellow but nearly clear, seeped out. Another fragment of his first aid training bubbled up. He took his jacket off, held it to the wound, and applied pressure.

A few minutes later, Data opened his eyes.

"What are you doing, sir?" he asked.

"I have to--," Riker blinked, confused "--have to stop the bleeding?" Something sounded wrong about that, now that he said it out loud, but with his head pounding the way it was he couldn't quite figure out what.

Data could. "I do not have blood, sir." Data gently removed Riker's hand from his arm and handed him his--now slightly greasy--jacket. He looked down at his arm. "It is lubricant, easily replaced."

"Plasma burn," Riker mumbled in protest.

"Yes, but I have run an emergency diagnostic, and no critical systems were damaged. You, however, are exhibiting symptoms of a severe concussion." Data led Riker to a nearby bench and retrieved a cortical stimulator from a first aid kit. He placed the device on Riker's forehead with one hand. His right arm remained bent at his side, stiff and immobile. "You should rest," he told Riker. "I will assess our situation and brief you when you awaken."

Riker sighed with relief as the throbbing in his head began to subside. "Yes, that's a good idea," he said, and almost immediately he fell into a deep sleep.

After what felt like just a moment, Riker was awoken by someone shaking him, gently, but in a precise and even rhythm.

"I apologize for waking you, sir, but I've made a concerning discovery," Data said.

Riker sat up, bleary-eyed but far more clear-headed than he had been earlier. "What is it?" he asked, stretching.

Data went to what was left of the sensor station. A corner of the display was cracked and flickering, but the rest showed a star chart. "We have crash landed on what appears to be a rogue planet. It is near the anomaly, but moving quickly." He traced a path across the screen with his left hand. A drop of fluid fell from his right, joining a sizeable puddle on the shuttlecraft deck. "I have plotted its trajectory, and it will soon pass in close proximity to a nearby star.  The shields are badly damaged. Unless we can repair them, it will become too hot for survival within fifteen days."  

"Well, the Enterprise should come looking for us before that," Riker replied, rubbing his head. At some point while he was sleeping the cortical stimulator had been removed, and a dermal regenerator had repaired the gash. "Unless," he was suddenly concerned, "What was that anomaly that hit us?"

"That is the concerning discovery. The anomaly appears to be similar to a wormhole; however, rather than sending us to another point in space, we were sent to another point in time. We are 98.43 years in the past."

"Urgh. I hate chronitons."

Data continued. "We are currently broadcasting a distress signal. Given the temporal prime directive though, I am not certain that is the correct decision." There was a ten-liter container of impulse engine lubricant by Data's chair. He lifted it and took a long swig. 

"Do you think we'll be able to repair the shields before it becomes too hot?" Riker asked.

Data lowered the bottle. "It is highly unlikely."

"Then we leave the distress signal on. The temporal prime directive doesn't require us to throw away lives. If someone comes to rescue us, we can set the shuttle to self-destruct before we leave. That way we won't contaminate the past with future technology."

"Except myself," Data said.

"Nobody is dying," Riker reiterated. "I can make that an order if I have to. What's the status of the systems?"

"Life support is functional. Communications and navigation are functional. The transporter is functional. Sensors are damaged but partially functional. Impulse engines were lost in the crash --"

"By 'lost' you mean?"

"They are no longer attached, but I have detected 37 fragments of them in the debris field behind us. Warp engines remain but are damaged. It may be possible to repair them, but we would not be able to generate a warp field while on the planet's surface, and we are unable to leave the surface without impulse engines. Self-destruct is functional. Shields are badly damaged as I previously stated. Deflectors are badly damaged. Inertial dampeners are badly damaged. The replicator is badly damaged, but there are 5 days of emergency rations."

"And how much engine lubricant do we have?"

Data lifted the bottle, considering its weight. "Forty-seven point two liters, including the four remaining bottles in storage, though we have little other use for it without impulse engines."

"You'd better let me have a look at your arm all the same."

A few hours later, Riker found himself connecting a series of the smallest power connectors he had ever worked with just below Data's elbow. Tools were strewn across the deck of the shuttlecraft and his neck ached. At least he had managed to stop the leak, though not before his uniform had become completely saturated with the thin, greasy substance.

"I have a theory on what may have caused the rapid expansion of the anomaly," Data said as he activated a microsoldering tool, attempting to bypass a damaged section of circuitry further down the wrist. He had politely, but firmly refused to let Riker help with that part. "The increased readings began almost immediately after the active scan started. It is possible the scan is what triggered it."

"So, if we scanned it again, would it open up so we can go back?"

"It might, but we are too far away at the moment."

"And we can't get closer without impulse engines." Riker thought a moment. "Would scanners from a ship of this era work?"

"Yes, I believe so. From a Federation ship of this era, at least. The power output is different, but the frequencies are essentially the same."

"At last, some good news. How likely do you think it is we'll be found by a Federation ship?"

"This region is in Federation space during this time period, but it is very close to a major outpost of the Klingon empire. There is a high probability of either a Federation or Klingon ship responding to our distress call."

"Let's hope for the first one." Riker finished the last of the connectors. "There, try that."

Data moved his arm experimentally: elbow, wrist, fingers. "Yes, it is working. There is more latency than usual, but I have full range of motion."

"Great!" Riker leaned back against the bulkhead, tired, but pleased with himself. "You know, I actually thought about becoming an engineer for a while," he said. "I liked the tinkering and building parts, but I could never get the hang of the theory."

"I was not aware of that," Data said. "I hope you do not mind me saying so, but I believe command suits you better."

Riker laughed. "I'm going to take that to mean that you think I'm a good first officer, and not that you think I'd be a bad engineer." Data looked like he was about to speak. "And if I'm wrong, you don't need to correct me," Riker said.

Data hesitated. "I was actually going to say that both could be true."

Riker sighed. "And after I just fixed your arm. Or helped fix it, anyway." Truthfully, Data had done most of the repair. 

"I did not say that both are true, just that they both could be," Data pointed out.

"I can read between the lines, Data."

"Sorry, sir."

"It's fine. At least you think I'm a good first officer." Riker decided a subject change was in order. "Hey, as long as we're bringing up each other's shortcomings, do you mind if I ask you a personal question? Something I've been wondering about a while."

"You may ask." Data said cautiously, in a tone that indicated no promise to answer.

"Why can't you use contractions? I mean, you seem to understand them just fine. I'm sorry if you get that question a lot."

Data thought a moment. "Not so often, actually. I believe most people assume it is an inherent limitation of androids, but that does not appear to be the case, as Lore had no difficulty with them. Neither did Lal. Truthfully, I am uncertain why I am unable to use them. My best theory is that it is a deliberate block in my language subroutine. I have occasionally managed to modify the subroutine to bypass it, but the changes have always reverted within a few minutes."

"Well, can you do it outside of the subroutine? Like, if you've got two words that can be contracted, just replace them with the contraction before you say them."

"I do not believe it is quite that simple, but I can try it." He sat still for a moment, eyes moving quickly, as if he was looking intently at something Riker couldn't see. Then, suddenly, he turned back to Riker. "How's this?" he asked.

Riker clapped. "There you go!"

"It's working then?"

"It is! I told you it's that simple."

"Perhaps it's."

"Wait, that one wasn't-" He was interrupted by an alert from the sensor display. 

"Ship approaching," Data said. 

"Klingon?"

"Checking now." Data looked through the sensor readings. "It appears to be Federation."

"Oh, thank god."

"They're entering visual range now." An image appeared on the cracked display. "Interesting." He looked back at Riker. "Sir, it's the Enterprise."

Riker looked in wonder at the small, constitution class ship on the display. "Well, what are the odds?"

Data began to speak.

"Rhetorical question, Mr. Data," Riker said. "We can see them. Can they see us?"

"No, sensor range is much lower in this time period. We'll be in their visual range in approximately 5 minutes 24 seconds. But they've almost certainly received our distress call."

"When will they be in our transporter range?"

"Three minutes 20 seconds."

"Do you think you could beam us onboard through their shields?"

"Yes, shields of this era are fairly simple. It'll won't be difficult to bypass them."

Riker had to think on the last sentence a bit.  "So, that's a yes, I think. Then we should stow away, steal a shuttlecraft, and use it to re-activate the anomaly. That will minimize our contact with people from the past. Mr. Data, get ready on the transporter. I'll set up the self-destruct."

"Aye, sir."

It only took a couple minutes to prepare. They watched the cracked sensor display as the ancient ship crept closer

"Ten seconds to transporter range," Data said. "Five. In range now. Identifying shield frequencies. Coordinates set. We should move to the transporter pad."

There was a gold light, and the shuttlecraft was replaced with a decidedly old-fashioned looking cargo hold. Twenty seconds later, the shuttlecraft exploded.

"Captain's log - Stardate: 4528.9. We received a distress call which appears to be originating on a rogue planet in the vicinity of the Eltana system. Strangely, the distress call is in English, but the subspace signature does not match any known Federation technology. We are approaching with caution."

Kirk turned off the recorder and looked up. "What can you tell me, Mr. Spock?"

"There is definitely an energy reading on the planet, Captain, but I'm unable to identify the source at this time. We will enter visual range in 3 minutes."

"Very good, keep me informed. Mr. Chekov, have photon torpedos on standby. We're at the edge of Klingon space, and whoever made that distress call wants us to think they're human. It's probably a trap."

"There is another explanation, Captain," Spock said, not looking up from the sensor display. "He may actually be human, but in an alien ship."

Kirk considered this. "It's possible I suppose. But the way he talked--I don't think so. The voice was so—" Kirk struggled for the right word, "--emotionless, mechanical even."

"He talked like you, Spock, is what he's saying." McCoy said.

At this, Spock looked up from the sensor display and raised an eyebrow. "An interesting comparison, Doctor, considering--as you are so fond of pointing out--I could not be accurately classified as non-human." He returned to the sensors.

"At least I got you to admit it," McCoy said.

If Spock had a retort, he didn't get a chance to use it. With a sudden calm urgency, he said "Sensors read a massive energy burst from the planet, Captain." He adjusted dials, focusing in on the source. "Energy signature is consistent with a warp core breach, but like the distress call, not from any known Federation ship."

"Could it be Klingon?"

"Negative, Captain. The energy density is too high. We will enter visual range in 30 seconds."

"Captain," Uhura said, one hand to her ear, "I got some strange feedback in subspace channels just before Mr. Spock detected the energy burst. It sounded like the feedback I get when the transporters are activated."

"Impossible, the shields were up," said Chekov.

Spock searched back through the sensor logs. "Sensors detected a brief, unusual energy reading in cargo bay 2 at that time," he said. "Possibly noise, but it is possible it was a transporter signature."

Kirk flipped on the intercom. "Security check, cargo bay 2. Potential intruder."

Riker and Data raced through a Jefferies tube.

"It didn't take them long to notice us," Riker said.

"They must've identified the transporter signature on sensors," Data said. "It's impressive they noticed us with the technology of this time period."

"Yes, well, the original Enterprise crew was legendary. If anyone could have spotted us, it would be them. I don't think they saw us go this way though. It doesn't sound like they're following us." 

"I agree, they don't appear to know precisely where we're," Data said. "If they detected our transporter signature though, they won't let's remain undetected for long."

"I think we're safe for the moment though," Riker said, turning back towards Data. "We need to decide what we're doing next."

"We didn't find anyone in the cargo bay," the red-shirted security officer told the captain. They were gathered around the conference table, passing around a carafe of coffee. "All we found, well, it might be nothing, but we did find a spot of an oily residue. It almost looked as if someone had it on their clothes, then leaned against a crate."

"I had a sample of it analyzed," Scotty added, as he filled his mug to the brim with coffee. "It was some kind of industrial lubricant, similar to what we use in our impulse engines."

"That would be consistent with someone who just abandoned a damaged ship," Spock noted. He was the only one without a mug in front of him.

"Those crates have been there for over a month though," the security officer added. "We don't know how long it's been there. It could be completely unrelated."

"Agreed," said Kirk. "It's all we have to go on for now though. I take it you didn't find more of the residue?"

"None yet, but it's hard to spot. We're doing a thorough inventory of the cargo bay now."

"Good. I also want a full security sweep of the ship. If there's an intruder here, I want them found."

"Aye, captain."

Riker and Data crouched behind a grating where the Jefferies tube met a corridor.

"I think those are the junior officers' restrooms, just across there. They should have sonic showers," Riker said. "We'll go there, get clean, then seen what fits us from our bag of ill-gotten gains here." He gestured to the bag of stolen laundry slung over his back. "Then I'll head to the shuttle bay and see if I can scramble the alarms so they won't detect us leaving. You'll travel through the Jefferies tubes and meet me there."

"Understood. I don't hear anyone in the corridor." 

"Then let's go. That anomaly isn't getting any closer."

They dashed across the corridor and into two adjacent stalls in the shower room. A thought suddenly struck Riker as he stripped off his greasy uniform.

"You do shower, right Data?" Riker murmured through the divider. "I mean, you don't sweat."

"Less often than humans, but I'm not immune to dirt, Commander." Data said. "I'd would've told you earlier if I'd concerns about it."

Riker decided it was time to admit defeat. "Data," he said with a sigh, "I'm sorry, I don't think the contraction thing is working as well as I thought it would."

"I see. I'll delete the program."

Riker gladly stepped into the sonic shower, enjoying the deep thrum of it in his chest and feeling the thin layer of grease on his skin shake away. Objectively he knew the fluid was no different than what would have been left if he had adjusted an engine or repaired a conduit, but it did seem more disgusting knowing it had come out of someone's arm, even if that someone was an android. He was glad to be rid of it. 

When he felt clean enough, he stepped out of the shower and went through the laundry bag.

"See how that fits you," he said, tossing a blue uniform over the divider to Data. He selected the longest uniform in the bag for himself, though the sleeves were still a bit shorter on him than he would have preferred. At least it was red, though. He could pretend he was performing some shuttlecraft maintenance.

Data's voice came back muffled through the shower divider. "The fit is adequate for our purpose." His original gold uniform came tumbling over the divider, landing precisely in the middle of the changing bench in Riker's stall.

Riker made a quick dash to a stall across the room and forced their original uniforms down one of the higher capacity heads to be safely disintegrated. Then, when the coast was clear, Data rushed to the Jefferies tube while Riker headed down the corridor to the turbolift.

"You look better in gold, Lieutenant," Riker called back to Data.

"Noted, Ensign," Data replied before disappearing down the tunnel.

Riker called the turbolift and took in the scenery while he waited for it to arrive. For the first time that day, he had a moment to think of how amazing it was to be there, on the original Enterprise, breathing her air, feeling the hum of her engines through the deck and bulkheads. He thought back on all the stories he'd heard at the Academy about that ship and her crew. Why, Captain Kirk himself might be up above him on the bridge right now. He smiled at the thought.

Then the turbolift doors opened and Riker froze.

Ah.

Not on the bridge then.

An odd look passed over Kirk's face, and for a moment Riker thought he'd been discovered. Then Kirk smiled warmly. "Don't be shy, Ensign. What deck?" he said, gesturing him into the turbolift.

"Shuttlebay," Riker replied, shaking off his shock. The doors closed and the lift hummed back into life. Riker leaned against the side and tried to look nonchalant.

"How are things going, Ensign? Enjoying the work?"

"Oh, yes sir. It's very exciting to be out here in the middle of it all."

Kirk looked at him curiously. "You know, there's a lot of people who would say Earth is the middle of it all."

"With respect sir, those people are wrong."

Kirk smiled. "I agree, Ensign."

A few seconds later, the lift whirred to a halt and the doors opened. Kirk clapped a hand on Riker's shoulder. "Here we are, shuttlebay," he said. The curve of a shuttlecraft hull was just visible through the turbolift door.

Riker relaxed a bit. He'd made it. He started to move toward the door. Before he reached it, his feet were swept out from under him and his head collided with the turbolift wall.

Riker found himself in the brig when he woke up, head pounding once again. A man with bright blue eyes stood over him with a medical scanner. 

"He seems human, Jim. He's got quite a concussion, though," the man said in a faint southern drawl. Riker felt a hypospray against his neck and the pounding in his head subsided a bit.

"I didn't hit him that hard, Bones," the captain replied. There was something almost petulant in his voice, like a child who didn't think he deserved a scolding.

"No, but it's not the first blow to the head he's had today." 

"Again, consistent with a damaged ship," said a third voice, deep and even. Riker squinted at him. A Vulcan. He must be Ambassador Spock. No--he glanced at his sleeve--Commander Spock. And the man with the medical tricorder was clearly a doctor. Riker tried to remember what the name of the doctor on the original Enterprise had been. M-something. One of those names with a capital in the middle. M...M... M'Benga, maybe? No, he didn't really look like an M'Benga. 

Kirk turned to Riker. "What are you doing on my ship?"

Riker wasn't quite ready to fold yet. He tried to sound confused, which, after the day he had had, was not too difficult. 

"Shuttlecraft maintenance, sir."

"No, you're not."

"Well, not right this minute, sir, no."

"No, not ever. I've been captain of this ship for well over a year, and I make a point of knowing the people I'm serving with. You aren't one of my crew."

"I just joined."

"We haven't taken on new personnel in six months."

"Really? Amazing how the time flies."

"Stop playing."

Riker did. He wasn't sure where they learned it, but there was one thing all good captains had in common: they knew how to be intimidating when they needed to be. Kirk might have even been better at it than Picard.

"I'm sorry, sir," Riker said, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for.

"I want to know why you're here, and I want to know where your friend is."

Riker's heart skipped a beat. "My friend?"

"That wasn't your voice in the distress call."

"It's automated." He was glad Data wasn't around to hear that lie.

"That would explain the mechanical quality," Spock noted.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Spock. Let's focus on the first question then. Why are you here?"

Riker thought a moment, deciding how much to reveal. He ran a hand across his beard. "I can't tell you much, but I don't mean any harm. I'm just trying to get home. My ship fell through an anomaly nearby and crashed on the planet. I need a shuttlecraft to get back. I'm sorry, but that's all I can say."

"This isn't a taxi, Ens—whoever you are."

"Will. My name's Will."

"This isn't a taxi, Will. You'll be brought to the nearest starbase. They can get you back to wherever you're going, after you're tried for trespassing, of course."

Riker sighed. "Not to where I need to go."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I can't."

"Then we're done here." Kirk walked to the door, but turned as he reached it. "My men are still searching the ship. If your friend attempts to contact you, I suggest you tell him to turn himself in. The courts will go easier on him if he does."

Riker sat back on the bunk and listened as the footsteps grew quieter. When they seemed to be gone he sprang up and looked around at what he could see of the brig. He couldn't see any guards. He leaned in close to the front of the cell to peer around the corners, so close he could feel his hair standing on end from the energy of the forcefield. No, no guards, unless they were in one of the cells too.

Honestly, it seemed a little odd they didn't leave at least one guard, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but the old shuttlecraft didn't have much range. They'd be too far from the anomaly to reach it soon. Maybe they already were. He pulled his com badge from his pocket.

"Riker to Commander Data," he whispered.

"Data here. I take it there was a complication, sir?"

"I met Captain Kirk in the turbolift. He clocked me as an intruder immediately." Riker rubbed his temple, "Clocked me right in the head too."

"I see. Are you alright?"

"I'll be ok. I'm in the brig, though. Listen, I know you're more conspicuous, but it's up to you now." Something moved in the corner of his eye. He looked up. Two security guards had suddenly appeared in the doorway. They tried to wrestle the com badge out of Riker's hand. Riker clutched it tight in his fist.

The noise cancelling ability of the com badge was perhaps a bit too effective, as Data continued, oblivious to the commotion. "I have a plan. It is more disruptive than the original, but I believe it will effectively minimize contact with the crew."

One guard managed to pry Riker's fingers open as the other plucked the badge from his palm. They turned and walked out, reactivating the force field as they left.

Riker sighed. "Don't do anything rash, Data," he said to the empty cell.

Up on the bridge, Sulu was getting restless. He knocked, irritated, on the controls in front of him. 

"Is something wrong, Lieutenant?" Chekov asked.

"There's some noise in the heading reading. Can you watch my station a minute? I'm going to go in back and see if I can find the cause."

Chekov nodded. Sulu opened a panel under the communications station, revealing a narrow crawlspace. He climbed inside.

Spock, Kirk, and McCoy had returned to the brig, where they were greeted by the two security guards. "We waited in the adjacent cell like you said," one of the security guards said. "As predicted, he made contact with the other intruder. They talked with this." He held up the com badge for them to see. "I couldn't make out everything, but the other man mentioned a plan of some sort. I didn't hear any details."

There was a quick flash of something in Spock's face when he saw the badge, but it was quickly subdued. His tricorder whirred faintly as he scanned it. "It appears to be quite similar to our own communicators," he said, "only, of course, much smaller."

Kirk picked it up gently. "Could we talk to him, then?"

"We could."

Kirk flicked the com badge between his fingers a few times, then looked at it, confused. "How does it open?"

"It may be activated through other means. A button perhaps?"

Kirk pressed it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. He gave a pleased grin as it chirped into life, but his face grew stern again as he spoke. "Intruder, this is Captain Kirk. My men are searching this ship as we speak. Discovery is inevitable. Surrender now, and you will not be harmed."

There was no response. 

McCoy turned to Riker, who was looking rather dejected in his cell. "Your friend's a bit shy."

Then the lights went out. All of them, across the entire ship. A moment later a klaxon sounded and the stilted voice of the ships computer rang out.

"Atmospheric alarm, bridge. All persons in the affected area are to evacuate immediately."

Chekov felt his way to the panel where Sulu had been working. "Room for one more, sir?" he asked, handing an emergency breather to Sulu. Another was already fastened over his own face.

"Are you ignoring an evacuation alarm, Ensign?"

"Are you?" 

"Well, you have to admit, the timing's suspicious--intruders on the ship, just a few parsecs from Klingon space," Sulu said sheepishly as Chekov squeezed in next to him in the crawlspace. They replaced the panel and peered at the dark bridge through the grating. The footsteps from the evacuating crew faded. Everything went silent, save for the familiar hum of the engines and ping of the sensors.

As their eyes adjusted, they noticed a faint light coming from a similar panel just below the view screen. After a moment, the panel opened and someone stepped out, silhouetted in the jerky light of a small flashlight. With a few quick taps on a panel, they silenced the alarm and brought the bridge lights back on.

Chekov could see the intruder clearly now. His features were human looking, but his skin was impossibly pale and had a slight sheen to it, reminding Chekov of snow outside his window back home during the rare moments of winter sunlight.

Sulu raised a hand in outrage as the intruder sat down at the helm—his station—and began to work. His movements were measured, but impossibly fast. Suddenly, the intruder's hand spasmed. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a network of tubes and circuits. A quick adjustment and the spasm stopped.

"I think it's an android," Chekov whispered with surprise. "Mr. Spock showed me how to deal with these in the incident with Harry Mudd," he said, proudly. "The key is to remember that they function purely on logic." 

"Be careful," Sulu said. "I'm going to stay back here and see if I can do anything with the controls." He slithered deeper into the crawlspace.

Chekov took a deep breath, steeled himself, and burst out of the panel.

"Everything I say is a lie!" he yelled.

Data glanced up. He had not anticipated that someone might violate regulations and ignore the evacuation alarm. Perhaps he had not heard it. He considered reactivating it, but decided against it. Even if it worked, he did not want the Ensign to inform the rest of the ship about his presence. It was best he remain here. He would attempt to keep him calm. "I will return your ship to you shortly. I do not intend any harm," he said.

"I am lying now!" Chekov interjected.

"Additionally, the air is perfectly safe. I only activated the alarm."

Chekov squinted as he looked the android over. No smoke. No sparks. Maybe he hadn't understood. "So, if I am lying, then it would mean I'm telling the truth, but if I'm telling the truth, that means I'm lying," he explained.

Data nodded. "Yes, I am familiar with the liar's paradox." As he was attempting to limit his interactions with people of this time period, he did not add that the earliest known human record of the paradox dates back to ancient Greece, that it is an example of the Vulcan concept of yeht'es eh yeht-fam, or that an equivalent statement plays a prominent role in the Bolian myth of Trob the clever and his rescue of his co-husband from a mountain spirit. 

"Oh."

"As I said, the air is safe. The emergency breather is not necessary," Data added.

"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it," Chekov spat.

Data attempted a reassuring smile. "I forgive you." He turned back to the helm. Assuming it was similar to modern helm controls, there would be a maintenance lockout code. He clicked open a panel and swapped two chips. Yes, that did it. He was able to get the station to print the code to an unprotected section of memory. 

"I love you!" Chekov called out.

Data laid in a course toward the anomaly, then he entered the code. It took a few attempts to get it to work with the engines running, but he managed to lock out heading changes. He replaced the code with a new one.

"But if there were someone here who was identical to you--"

Data looked up sharply. "Is there?" he asked urgently.

"What?" Chekov hadn't even gotten to the illogical part yet.

"Is there someone here who looks identical to me?" Data asked again. "This is important; is Lore here? He is extremely dangerous."

Chekov shook his head slowly. "No... Not that I know of," he said. Then he added, "But if he were, I would hate him!"

Data nodded solemnly. "Yes, I believe you would."

"Even though you are identical...and I love you..." Chekov sighed. This wasn't how it had gone with Norman. Still, the ship was counting on him. He took a deep breath and recited, "Logic is a little tweeting bird, chirping in a meadow. Logic is a wreath of pretty flowers that smell bad."

Data cocked his head. "Curious imagery. Is the metaphor of the flowers that smell bad meant to express that, although superficially appealing, the pursuit of logic alone is fundamentally unfulfilling?"

Chekov threw up his hands. "No!" he yelled in frustration, "It's meant to make your head explode!"

"Ah." Data returned to his task. There was a brief hum as he powered down main phasers. "You will likely need to do a full system reset to re-enable weapons; the lockout code I applied is quite complex. The course change lockout is simpler, and should be easy to overcome. It is only my intention to cause a delay long enough for us to accomplish our purpose." 

At the mention of weapons, it suddenly occurred to Chekov that there may be a simpler way to subdue the intruder. He grabbed a phaser from a nearby cabinet and fired. 

There was a sizzle of energy and the beam dissipated harmlessly across a wall of sparkling yellow.

"I apologize. My earlier statement was somewhat imprecise. I activated both the atmospheric alarm and the containment forcefields. Again, though, the air is perfectly safe."

"Ah ha!" Chekov cried, remembering the incident with the Nomad probe, "You made an error! You are imperfect!" He pointed and accusing finger. "And so, since you are imperfect, you must destroy yourself!"

Data considered this. "That would be a rather extreme reaction," he said slowly. He looked at Chekov kindly. "Do you really believe that destroying oneself is a necessary response to mistakes?"

At last, he was getting somewhere. "Yes!" he said gleefully. "You should do it!"

"Your attitude is concerning." There was no rebuke in the tone. He turned from the console, pale eyes fixed earnestly on Chekov. "I once had similar thoughts during a difficult time in my life. Things improved for me, but only because I chose to continue my existence. I hope you will choose the same if you commit an error."

For a moment, Chekov almost felt bad. The intruder sounded so sincere. "I'm... I'm not suicidal..." he muttered.

"That is good, but you must admit your behavior has been erratic. Would you consider talking to someone?"

Ten minutes later, Chekov managed to slink back over to the communications station.

"How's it going?" Sulu whispered up to him.

Chekov slumped against the console, head in his hand. "He scheduled a counseling appointment for me with Nurse Chapel next week."

Sulu considered this a moment. "From the helm?" he asked.

"That's what you find odd? That the android is good with computers?"

"Fair enough," Sulu said. "I've had a bit more luck here. I think I've found a way to route power from the containment field through the helm."

"Will that take out the console?"

"And everything else in about a two-meter radius, yes."

Chekov glanced back at the intruder. "And how close are we?"

Sulu shrugged. "Far enough."

"Are you sure?"

At that moment, Chekov noticed a light on the communications array. "We have a call," he whispered to Sulu. As subtly as he could, he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Hello," he said, "This is Ensign Chekov of the USS Enterprise."

In the brig, Kirk punched the air in triumph. A response! "Ensign Chekov, this is the Captain. What's your status?"

"The intruder is here on the bridge," came Chekov's whispered voice from the tangle of chips and wires that had once been the intercom, and was now a makeshift subspace transmitter--Spock's doing. In the dim light of the emergency lantern, Riker thought the Vulcan looked almost smug that his contraption had worked. "I think he might be an android, but a very sophisticated one. He didn't even blink when I told him logic is a tweeting bird."

"What?" said Riker in his cell. He was feeling a bit bitter that the force field appeared to be the one thing Data hadn't disabled.

Chekov continued, "he's disabled weapons and taken control of the helm. He claims he doesn't mean any harm, but, well, we have all heard that one before."

Kirk nodded. He certainly had. "The emergency containment field is keeping us from getting anyone up to the bridge. Can you see any way to disable it?"

"We can do better than that, sir. Lieutenant Sulu is here too. He thinks he can route power from the containment field to cause an overload in the helm."

Kirk nodded. "Have him do it, Ensign." 

"No, wait," Riker said, but Kirk had already ended the call. "We're from the future," he confessed. "The anomaly connects two points in time. We fell through while attempting to chart it. You have the temporal prime directive in this time too, so you know why we aren't supposed to tell you that."

Kirk looked skeptical, but Spock nodded. "His communication device is consistent with one I saw during a similar incident with Captain Pike," he said.

McCoy looked at Spock incredulously. "And you just thought to mention this now?"

"He, naturally, would know more about future events than I, and clearly found it important to conceal his origin. It was logical that I do the same."

This seemed to convince Kirk, as he already had the makeshift subspace transmitter back on. It didn't take long for Chekov to answer. "Belay that order, Ensign. You are not to harm the intruder unless threatened."

There was a pause as Chekov relayed the information, then he said, "Lieutenant Sulu has already modified the circuit. He can't turn it off now."

"Well then, warn him!" Kirk said. There were muffled sounds of Chekov yelling "Get away from the helm! It's going to explode!" Then he returned to the call. "I don't think he believes me. He just apologized that his hijacking was causing me distress."

Spock was at the entrance to the cell before Chekov had finished speaking. He lowered the forcefield and thrust the confiscated com badge into Riker's hand.

"Get away from the helm, Mr. Data!" Riker yelled into it.

Back on the bridge, Data suddenly stood with inhuman speed and started to run from the console. He managed to get nearly two meters away before it exploded in a shower of plasma and shrapnel.

Riker rushed onto the bridge as soon as the turbolift door opened. Under other circumstances, he would have marveled at where he was. Now, though, he only had eyes for the pale figure propped, unmoving, against the command chair. Riker's chest tightened. It was awful losing anyone under his command, but especially a friend. This felt like Tasha Yar all over again. Burns and bits of shrapnel dotted Data's body. A large puddle was forming underneath him, the familiar pale-yellow lubricant joined by at least two other fluids. One was a watery lime green that formed isolated droplets that skittered across the surface of the other two. The second was viscous and a deep red color bordering on purple.

A young man in a gold uniform—Sulu, Riker figured, another name straight from his history lessons—stood nearby looking guilty. "He was moving a bit earlier--well, sort of twitching I guess--but then right after we got the plasma fire out, he just keeled over," Sulu said.

"What can you tell, Bones?" Kirk asked.

McCoy looked back at him, incredulous. "I'm not an engineer, Jim. What do you want me to do, take his pulse?"

"Try."

McCoy sighed and started to scan, muttering sarcastically. "Heart rate: 0, respiration: 0, blood pressure," he looked at the results, skeptically, "20/15? That must be one of these other fluids, wouldn't think he'd have blood. Brain activity," McCoy perked up a bit, "Not zero! Not making any sense either, mind you, but there's clearly some kind of electrical impulse going on." He looked up. "Spock, get over here. Medical scanner's not calibrated for this."

Riker leaned back, relief flooding through him. 

Spock joined them and began his own scan with a tricorder. "I agree, there are energy readings, especially in the head and torso regions."

Kirk spoke up. "Well, I'm not an expert on androids, but it's my experience that a dead computer doesn't use a lot of power."

"Why's he so still then?" asked Sulu.

Riker thought a moment. "It could an emergency diagnostic. That usually kicks in when his posi—" Riker remembered about the temporal prime directive, "—when he might be damaged. I think it takes about ten to twenty minutes." Riker thought a moment. His head was hurting again. "That green fluid might be coolant, and he's not breathing so he wouldn't be dissipating much heat anyway. We should try to keep him from overheating."

McCoy stood. "I'll get some cold packs."

Chekov had been standing a little away from the group near auxiliary controls, still a little nervous about the paradox-proof android. Something caught his eye on the sensor display. "Um, Sirs? There is another issue." He put a visual onto the viewscreen.

It was a Klingon battlecruiser, headed their way.

"How far?" Kirk asked.

"About eight minutes, Captain," Chekov answered.

Not far then. The explosion had taken out the helm and a good chunk of navigation. They were sitting ducks until they could get those back. "Mr. Sulu, Mr. Spock, see if you can route helm functions through another station. Mr. Chekov, find Scotty and tell him what's happened."

"Captain," Chekov said, "The intruder--"

"He's called Data," Riker told him.

"Data said he had locked out weapons and course changes. He said the course change lockout was simple, just enough to give him time to get away, but the weapons one was probably too complex for us to break."

Kirk nodded. "Thank you, Ensign." Chekov went to the turbolift and left.

"Captain," Spock said, "it takes 6 minutes to reach the shuttle bay from here. If it was Data's intention to delay restoration of helm control long enough for Will and himself to leave, we should expect it to take us at least that long to break the lockout. And we still would not have weapons."

Kirk turned to Riker. "Do you know how to wake Data up early?"

Riker thought a moment.

Oh.

Oh no.

He might.

He remembered the fire in the shuttlecraft, and how Sulu said that Data had been moving until he and Chekov had stopped the plasma fire. Extreme heat seemed to prevent the diagnostic. A safety mechanism, maybe. He sucked in air through his teeth. "Well, I don't like it, but I have an idea." He turned to Sulu. "Hand me your phaser, Lieutenant."

Sulu looked back at the stowaway whose compatriot had just hijacked the ship. "No!" he said, affronted.

Kirk sighed. "Do it, Mr. Sulu." 

Reluctantly, Sulu did. Riker quickly heated an edge of one of the larger fragments of the helm until the edge was just starting to glow. Cringing, he pressed the red-hot metal to Data's arm. There was a choking smell of burning polymer. The stolen blue uniform singed and began to fuse with the melting bioplast skin below.

For a moment, that was all that happened, and Riker had a sudden fear that he might be maiming his fellow officer for no reason. Then, abruptly, Data's eyes opened. They stared forward, unblinking, not seeming to see Riker or anything else. His head jerked, ineffectually, like an oscillating fan stuck against an obstacle. Riker thought, with a pang, that Data might be trying to look at why his arm was so hot. Data's mouth opened, as if to speak, but only a strange static came out.

"I'm sorry, Data," Riker said, "but I had to get you awake somehow. There's a Klingon ship approaching and we need control of the ship." 

Data didn't react. 

Riker sighed. "He's pretty damaged, Captain. I don't think he can give us the code."

Spock looked up. He and Sulu were elbow deep in an access panel trying to re-route the helm functions. "I could attempt a mind-meld," he said.

"Spock, he's basically a computer!" McCoy exclaimed. "And, much as you might think to the contrary, you're not."

"I was successful with the Nomad probe," Spock pointed out.

"That damn near killed you."

"Would you prefer we take our chances with the Klingons, Doctor?" Spock asked.

Kirk interrupted the argument. "Mr. Sulu, do you think you can finish re-routing the helm on your own before the Klingons get here?"

"Aye, sir. We're nearly done."

"Then try it, Mr. Spock."

Spock nodded and knelt next to Data, making no effort to avoid the oily puddle that surrounded him. He splayed his fingers and placed them gently against the android's still-twitching face, attempting to feel the threads of his mind. He had to adjust his placement several times; the points were quite different from where they would be on a human. His fingers were nearly at the hairline when at last, he felt what he was looking for. Spock closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

"My mind to your mind," Spock murmured. He hardly ever needed the mantra anymore, but it seemed prudent for such a difficult case. "My thoughts to your thoughts." He could feel his mind brush against another. It had a hard, almost angular, quality to it. Somewhat like the Nomad probe, as he expected, but while that one had been pointed and of a singular purpose, this one felt broader.

Data seemed to feel Spock's mind as well. His head went still for a moment then, with a last, great effort from his leaking hydraulic system, cocked curiously. A moment later, their minds joined, like two droplets of water meeting on a window.

The android's mind was a cacophony. Spock's eyes grew wide. It was deafening, screaming through every corner of his thoughts until it felt like his skull was ringing. His body tensed and his back arched. He began to mutter mechanically.

"thermal alarm emergency diagnostic incomplete main hydraulic failure coolant level low thermal alarm visual processing offline lubricant level low emergency diagnostic incomplete auditory processing offline thermal alarm emergency diagnostic incomplete language processing offline working memory array 4 unresponsive emergency diagnostic incomplete main hydraulic failure visual processing offline thermal alarm auditory processing offline language processing offline emergency diagnostic incomplete thermal alarm"

Spock forced himself to push forward, to find the center.

"main hydraulic failure coolant level low emergency diagnostic incomplete auditory processing offline string quartet rehearsal fifteen minutes late thermal alarm language processing offline visual processing offline emergency diagnostic incomplete failed tactile array coolant level low lubricant level low main hydraulic failure thermal alarm"

Then other words broke in, stronger. "What is happening?"

"emergency diagnostic incomplete coolant level low language processing offline thermal alarm visual processing offline"

"A mind-meld," Spock answered, his voice strained.

"auditory processing offline emergency diagnostic incomplete"

"Fascinating! I would not have thought it possible. Then are these your thoughts?" 

Spock shuddered and his mind raced involuntarily as Data searched through his thoughts at impossible speed. Flashes of past missions, meals, chess matches.

Data was enraptured. "Your perceptions are quite different from my own, but there are underlying similarities in the patterns of thoughts It is difficult to describe, but quite enlightening."

The dizzying onslaught of memories continued. Spock felt a sharp pain at his temple. 

"There is a strange sensation as well. It is very insistent." Data's mind pressed forward.

Spock could barely think through the torrent of memories and blare of alarms. Spasms ran through his body and a blood vessel burst in his eye, sending a slick of green across the white. "Stop," Spock managed to gasp. "Pull back."

Input from ethical subroutines joined the roar of Data's mind as he realized what had happened, but Spock's own thoughts quieted. Spock slumped, trembling, fingers clinging to Data's forehead.

"I hurt you. I am sorry."

"It was a known risk."

McCoy interrupted. "Spock! The codes!"

Data heard the doctor through Spock and saw the context rise to the surface of his mind. A Klingon ship. They needed weapons.

Spock's mouth moved, reciting the code to unlock weapons between ragged breaths. It took a full minute to get through the entire thing. 

Sulu entered it as it was recited. He looked up, smiling. "It worked! Phasers are back online."

"Klingons are 2 minutes away," McCoy said. "We might want to be able to move, too."

Spock took a deep breath. His voice was barely over a whisper now. Kirk was next to him, taking care not to touch him and disrupt the meld, but watching every twitch and shudder with concern. 

Kirk relayed the code as Spock, or possibly Data, said it. "The heading lockout code is 9...9...9...8."

Task complete, Spock let his hands fall away and wrapped himself in the wonderful quiet of his own mind. Kirk caught him as he collapsed and held him protectively.

"A very interesting mind, Jim," Spock murmured. "Loud though."

"Bones!" Kirk called, but McCoy was already there, scanner in hand.

"Two aneurysms, but not ruptured or growing so there's no immediate danger. You'll need surgery though. Until then, light duty, no salty foods, no heavy lifting, and absolutely no mind-melds with anyone, no matter how similar they seem to the intelligent space probe that killed 4 billion people last year. Oh," he added, retrieving something from a medical kit, "and eat this. Your glucose is pretty low." He handed Spock a lollypop.

Kirk turned to Riker. "Do you think you can handle communications?"

Riker nodded. "The basics, at least."

"Good, open a channel to the Klingon ship." Kirk looked around at the disarray of the bridge, the open panels from Sulu's re-routing, and the smoking crater where the helm had once been. "Audio only," he added.

"Aye sir," said Riker. It took him a moment to understand the old controls, but he got the channel opened.

"Klingon ship," said Kirk, "You are in Federation space. Turn back or be fired upon." 

There was no response.

"Mr. Sulu," Kirk said, "power up main phasers. Show them we mean it."

The Klingons clearly registered the energy surge. A response came through. "We received a distress call from this area. We came to offer assistance." Riker thought there was something very sinister in the way he said 'offer assistance,' and he was glad the Enterprise had responded to Data's and his distress call first.

"We received it too," Kirk answered. "It's taken care of."

"How fortunate. Then we will return to our territory." The ship turned hard to starboard and sped away.

"Well, that could have gone much worse," McCoy said once the channel was closed. "I think we might be starting to develop a bit of a reputation with them."

Spock took a clinical lick of his lollypop. "I agree."

"You agree with me?" McCoy looked at him, shocked. "I'd better scan you again."

Shortly, Riker found himself in an old-style shuttlecraft. It had taken him a little while to learn the controls, but he had to admit that there was something very satisfying about the physical knobs and switches. The anomaly stretched before him, pale and wispy, the way it had been when they first arrived nearly 100 years in the future.

Data was bundled into a stretcher in the aft. Riker had turned him off after he came out of his emergency diagnostic. He wasn't sure if that had been the right decision—what if it made things worse?—but it seemed like the kindest option. Sure, Data didn't feel pain, but after hearing all those alarms Spock relayed and seeing how Data had reacted to his phaser-heated metal, he had a sense being damaged was, on some level at least, unpleasant for Data.

Riker activated sensors. He wasn't quite sure what setting Data had used before, so he opted for a broad spectrum. He cranked up the shields for good measure too.

It worked. The anomaly stretched out as before, shooting towards him in a flash of blinding white. The shuttlecraft bucked and jostled. Then, suddenly, everything was still. An inky black expanse stretched out before him dotted with countless stars. The anomaly, behind him now, cast a faint green light on the hull.

A moment later, Riker received a hail. He had a moment of panic as a Klingon bridge appeared on the viewscreen before remembering when he was.

"Haven't seen one of those shuttles in a while," the Klingon captain said. "They used to make good target practice, you know. I take it you're Commander Riker?"

Riker nodded. "Commander Data is here with me as well, but badly damaged."

The Klingon turned to one of one of his officers. "Send a message to the Enterprise. Tell them we've found their people." He turned back to Riker. "You must have a mighty tale to tell. Come aboard. We will return you to your ship."

It turns out Data and Riker had lost just over two-and-a-half days to the anomaly, despite it only feeling like 6 hours or so to them. The acting science officer had given Riker a lengthy explanation on why when he returned to the Enterprise that largely boiled down to "time anomalies do anomalous things to time." Riker had gotten medical clearance quickly, though with restriction to light duty for the next week. Data, on the other hand, had been in sickbay for over three days.

Riker walked into sickbay with a mug in hand. La Forge looked up. He looked exhausted.

"I brought you a coffee," Riker said. "The good stuff, not replicated."

"Thanks, Commander. That sounds nice." La Forge accepted the cup and took a long sip, entirely failing to appreciate the complex aromas of the non-replicated beans, but quite appreciate of the caffeine. 

Data was lying still on an exam table, his eyes closed. "How is he?" Riker asked.

"A lot better actually, though there's still a long way to go. I was able to turn him back on a few hours ago, and we just got his tactile array reconnected. He's running a diagnostic now to check that's all ok. Should be done soon. Hopefully it stops him accidentally crushing everything." He gestured to a hand-shaped indentation on the corner of a steel instrument tray.

As if on cue, Data's eyes opened and he sat up. "Tactile array functioning within normal parameters," he told La Forge. His voice was tinny, but it was good to hear it all the same. He saw Riker. "Oh. Good morning, Commander."

"It's afternoon actually," Riker corrected. "We weren't there for as long as we weren't here."

Data considered this. "Geordi, are you certain language processing is functioning correctly?"

"Yours is. I'm not sure about his."

"Yeah, yeah, let's see you do better after two concussions." Riker said.

"I take it there were no significant historical disruptions resulting from our presence in the past?" Data asked.

"None I've noticed," Riker said. "Hey, quick check; Klingons have always been purple, right?"

"No, they were not," Data said, beginning an analysis of how such a change might have resulted from their presence. "I understand human memory is inexact, but do you really--" He noticed the amused looks on Riker and La Forge's faces. "Ah, you are joking."

Riker laughed. "Yes, Data."

"And was Ambassador Spock alright?"

Riker shrugged. "A little worse for wear, but he's on Romulus now like before, so he must have recovered. He claimed he didn't remember much from the mind-meld, just vague impressions."

"Wait, mind-meld?" La Forge asked.

"Yes. I apologize, Geordi, I have not yet had the opportunity to tell you about our experience."

"I'd love to hear it, but let's run a low level diagnostic first. Mind-melds are supposed to be pretty dangerous even with other Vulcans." Geordi said, reaching for a tool.

"I am not aware of any faults, but that would be prudent."

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Riker said. "Glad to see you're doing better, Data."

"Much better. I am in good hands. Geordi is quite familiar with my systems. It is likely he is one of the most qualified people in the galaxy for the repairs."

La Forge smiled. He supposed he might be, at this point. He'd never thought of it that way.

"Have there been any further efforts to chart the anomaly?" Data asked.

"Yes, but apparently it dissipated sometime after we got back."

"That is unfortunate. It appears to have been a previously unknown phenomenon."

Riker shrugged. "I'd say we explored the hell out of it."

"Perhaps," Data said, considering. "It is good to be home, as well."

Riker smiled. "That it's."