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My only friend is leaving the Enterprise. Leaving me.
"I've accepted a position with Cambridge University on Earth," Data tells me as we sit down on his sofa. I'm to begin teaching undergraduate math students in one week.
"Why? I thought you were dedicated to Starfleet," I reply. Silently, I add: and to me.
"I have served Starfleet for well over thirty years. If I were human and aged along the years, few would question my motives for retirement. I feel it is time for a career change. Since I am expected to live thousands of years, I will undoubtedly make many career changes in the future. For now, I would like to explore teaching college math students."
"What about teaching me?" The question sounds selfish, but I can't help asking it or speaking with a whine in my voice. "Don't you still have much you could teach me?"
"You have proven you are capable of independent study. I will keep in contact with you through subspace messages." I consider telling him that he is my only reason for remaining on the Enterprise. Without him around, I will have no reason to return from my nightly explorations. I hold back voicing this only because I don't want to cause Data the same pain I am feeling now.
"How often will I hear from you?"
"As often as possible. Perhaps, every evening at first until you adjust to my not being around. Before long, you will realize this is as good for you as it is for me. It will give you the opportunity to spread out, to try new activities and make other friends closer to your own age. Promise me you will not hide away in your room for spend all your time on the holodecks."
"I'll do my best not to disappoint you," I respond sullenly and stand up. " I better leave so you can pack your things before we reach Earth."
As head back toward my quarters, I feel numb. I can't believe Data is leaving me. How will I ever get over feelings of betrayal? He has always been my rock, my best reason for returning to the Enterprise after each of my excursions. Now who will I return for?
When I enter our living quarters, I find my brother and Brett La Forge chasing each other around the furniture. Eric has a best friend his own age and has several other friends from school. We come from the same genes, but Eric is able to make friends easily, while I can find very few who will even tolerate me.
Not noticing my entrance, Brett plows right into me. He looks up toward me, petrified. "Please, don't turn me into a toad!"
"I'm not evil," I assure him, trying to back off my instinctual anger. "Just watch where you're going."
As I wander away from them, I hear Brett say, " I thought you said your sister was a powerful witch."
Is my own brother afraid of me?
I enter my room and activate the safety locks. If the little brats decide to go on a witch hunt, I don't want to make it easy for them to barge into my room. They wouldn't like the outcome!
I throw my data padd onto my desk and it strikes against my monitor and bounces onto the floor. Noticing the hand-held padd now has a crack in the base, I hold my anger and frustration in no longer. With one thrust, I knock everything off the shelf above my desk. Then I move on to terrorize loose items on my desk. I thrash my bed, throwing the covers and pillows aside. With one swift move and a voracious yell that would challenge any Klingon warrior, I move to strike my dresser. Leaning against the side of his cage, Sam peers up at me, defenseless against my rage. I stop myself only centimeters from swiping the cage onto the floor.
What is wrong with me?
I collapse onto my bed, not bothering to collect any of the sheets or covers. I will never be satisfied again without Data in my life. This starship is too confining no matter how fast or how far it travels. Why am I bothered to pretend domestic life works for me?
Closing my eyes, I wish my emotions were tangible so I could travel to their world and analyze them like a scientist. The door leading to anger opens, followed by melancholy and then fear. I slip easily into a land of blue haze. On the surface, it reminds me of the purple nebula Q took me to long ago shortly after we met. However, deep down, the vibes I'm picking up from this world are foreign and incompatible to anyplace. Have I transformed my emotions into this strange world?
"Q!" I call out, hoping he can help me sort through my questions.
Another male Q appears, sporting wings and a harp. As he runs his fingers along the strings, I stand before him to enjoy the pleasant melody. Maybe this is the distraction I need to help me clear my head. "Oh, what a lovely place!" he mockingly sings. "It feels so like heaven."
Instantly, my hopes are dispelled. "How would you know. I doubt you'd ever be allowed inside heaven."
"Tsk. Tsk. You called for me. If you don't want me inside your world, then don't invite me."
"I like your music. You may stay."
"I do play beautiful music, don't I?" He played a bar to emphasize his point.
"Continue playing if you like. This is my world, but it could benefit from a little harmony." I move away from him, somewhat satisfied as he continues his music, and scan the area ahead. It's difficult to see too far ahead of me. I can barely see my feet as I take each step through the cloud. "Q! Q, I need to talk with you!" I yell.
A female with long dark hair appears before me. "Q is indisposed at the moment. You will have to send him a message through me."
"Indisposed? Please, tell me he's not been thrown into another penalty box! Or will he not talk with me until I decide to take him up on his political offer? How stubbornly Q of him!"
"I am not permitted to discuss his current situation with you. However, if you wish to send him a message, you must do it now."
I hesitate, probably for too long as she folds her arms impatiently. "All right. Tell him that I miss him and I'd like to see him again as soon as he's free from whatever he's wrapped up in....and that I *am* strongly considering his offer."
"Very well."
"Wait! There's more. Tell him, that Commander Data has left the Enterprise and I'm not sure I have any reason to stay there any longer. I may soon take him up on his offer for travel plans. Ask him if he can take time out from his busy schedule to take me on the tour he promised."
"Is that all?"
"For now, yes. Please, tell him! I'll be eternally grateful to you."
"Your supplication is unnecessary. I said I would deliver your message and I will." She smiles demurely. "Enjoy the clouds and cob webs of your mind. I hope you learn what you're looking for." She vanishes in a Q-flash.
I continue on my journey, though one meter looks like the next. As I take each step, I ponder the last statement of Q's messenger. What did she mean by cob webs? I create a filigree of webs in front of me and searching for the solution to the world puzzle, run my hand gingerly through the web. I'm amazed as I uncover not a blue cloud underneath, but instead an elegant painting. It is an abstract Data has been working on for months. Whenever creativity moves him in an appropriate mood, he removes it to add another stroke here or there. Lifting the canvas closer to my face, I examine it for any recent applications. In the far right corner, I notice what looks like a shadow peering over the creation. Did Data intentionally draw this image to symbolize his continued involvement in my education from afar? I'd like to think so.
From the corner of my eye, I see something else appear in the spot where I'd found the painting. Setting the canvas aside, I reach for the object and discover my clarinet inside my grasp. I lift the instrument to my lips and begin playing a melancholy tune. As I play the song, I remember meeting Data and many of the significant moments that passed between us since that day. I dwell on the moment he told me he had resigned his Starfleet commission and accepted a position at Cambridge. Using mental fingers, I clear away the cob webs from the upsetting memory and concentrate instead on the friendship that will not die no matter how many light years separate us. Reaching the end of the song, I lower my instrument and wipe away the tears now clouding my vision.
I snatch up the painting and dissolve this world inside a Q-flash. I have no further need for it.
Reappearing inside my bedroom, I set Data's painting and my instrument atop my desk. I scan the room, amazed at how destructive I'd been in my anger. How long ago had that been? I wonder and check my chronometer. I've spent nearly twelve hours away from the Enterprise! Data is scheduled to depart for Earth in thirty minutes.
Hastily, I change into clean clothes and rush out to the living area. Mother pacing around the room, a drink in hand. " I was beginning to wonder whether saying goodbye to Data was worth returning for you," Mother says.
"I lose track of time easily," I explain. "Honest, I want very much to see Data before he leaves."
"I believe you, Shannara." Despite my sensing her sincerity, I realize it is laced with disappointment. "We should go to the transporter room now. Everyone is probably waiting for us."
Of course, Captain Riker and Commander La Forge and a few others will want to see Data off. My android mentor has made many friends over the years, one of the few lessons he has been unable to teach me.
*****
"Shannara," Data says as I step into the transporter room, "glad you could make it." He approaches me to offer a firm hug. He is wearing a casual outfit. Although I've seen him out of uniform before, it seems strange to see him in a long loose-fitting jacket. As he releases me, Data continues, " I was going to present you with a souvenir, but I cannot locate it."
"Data, how could you have forgotten where you put something?" La Forge asks incredulously.
Data glances back at his long-time friend. " I did not misplace it, Geordi. My painting literally has vanish."
"Your painting!" I exclaim. "It's my fault, then. I have it already. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it. I was wallowing in self-pity and your painting--" Holding out my arms as though expecting it to materialize, I add, "came to me as part of my manifestation."
No one around me responds. Obviously, they understand what I'm saying and don't wish to be reminded about my status in the Q-Continuum, especially not now when we are saying goodbye to a dear friend.
"I'm sorry. If you would rather I return the painting--"
"No. I meant it as a gift to you. Hopefully, it will inspire you to tap into the creativity of your true self." He doesn't mention the Continuum, but the implication is quite evident to me. More than anything, he wants me to find happiness here on the Enterprise.
I wish I could fulfill his dream.
"The Bastian is hailing us," the transporter chief informs us, breaking the tension. "They're ready for you, Commander."
Data turns toward Riker and La Forge. "It has been an honor and a pleasure to serve with both of you. With all of you."
Riker places his hand on the android's shoulder. "Good luck, Professor Data."
"Don't forget to write," La Forge adds, smiling. "Or we will hunt you down."
"Data," Mother says in tears. I sense she is unable to speak and instead hugs her old friend fiercely.
"I understand. Thank you, Counselor."
Next, Father offers his well wishes. "May your students treat you with the honor you deserve."
"And may you find the first officer's chair as fulfilling as I have."
Before Data steps onto the transporter pad, he turns back toward me and says, "I will contact you as soon as I arrive on Earth." And after the transporter chief activates the beam, Data says as he dematerializes, "Keep up with your studies."
Never will I have another lecture from Data.
Never again will I be able to visit him for advise or to talk or paint or play music.
Never. Never. Never.
I collapse onto the edge of the platform and weep for my loss. My only friend has left the Enterprise.
