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Leap NCC- 1701- D 1/4 (trek)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: LEAP NCC-1701D (1/4) QL/ST:TNG
Date: Fri Jul 21 18:41:12 1995
LEAP NCC-1701D
PART 1
"When dealing with quanta, nothing's impossible"
-Thames- REVENGE OF THE EVIL LEAPER
***************
Data looked around the Waiting Room. It was plain, with unadorned
walls that offered no obvious clues as to its location. Standing
across from him was a human male wearing a rather unconventional
(by Data's standards) outfit - red pants, red sequined vest over
an equally wild shirt, fedora hat, and a cigar perched in his
mouth.
"I assume that you are responsible for my capture." Data said,
addressing this unidentified individual. "I would like to know
where I am and for what purpose I have been brought here."
The prime directive prevented Data from saying much more. He
would wait patiently for the explanation.
Al didn't answer immediately. Instead he walked closer to this
person whom Sam had replaced. Here was, without a doubt, a most
peculiar leapee, and Al was quickly developing a bad feeling about
this leap. Al and Data continued to silently examine each other
until Gooshie burst into the room and interrupted them.
"Admiral, I have news from Ziggy, and I'm not sure you're going to
like it." He whispered into Al's ear as the two men stared at
Data. After hearing Gooshie's incredible news, Al pulled the cigar
out of his mouth and muttered the only words that came to mind,
"OH BOY."
***************
"Mr. Data, at our current speed, what is our estimated arrival
time at the Bibendi system?"
Captain Picard waited a few seconds and tried again.
"Mr. Data, OUR ESTIMATED ARRIVAL TIME at the Bibendi system,
PLEASE!"
No response. Picard walked over and stood next to the android's
station.
"Data, are you all right?"
Sam Beckett wasn't paying attention. He put his hand on his chest
and felt nothing. As he turned his head and saw the bald man in
the funny uniform, he was instantly gripped by a kind of panic he
had never known. A panic with no heartbeats, no sweat, no shaking
muscles. He screamed.
"AAAAHHHHHHHGGGGGG! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
By the time Doctor Crusher arrived on the Bridge, the crew was
huddled around Data, who was frozen in his seat unable to move or
speak. It would never have occurred to any of them that Data was
in a catatonic state of terror. Only Sam knew that. The people
around him thought he was suffering from a severe malfunction of
his positronic brain.
Even after dozens of leaps, Sam was still not comfortable with the
experience of suddenly becoming a different person. Each time was
unique but this was the most unique of all. He didn't feel
human. He didn't feel animal. He didn't feel ANYTHING. He was
numb.
"Al," he thought to himself as the pretty lady doctor waved
obscure instruments around his immobile form. "Al, where are you.
I've become a zombie. I'm one of the living dead."
Counselor Troi pushed her way through the crowd and stood by Data,
putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Data, Data, it's Deanna. Speak to me." She was getting unusual
emotional vibrations from Data that she had never sensed before.
Opening her mind to him, she reached out for any response that he
might attempt.
Troi's communication woke Sam out of his paralysis. He slowly
moved some parts of his body to test his neuromuscular control and
was relieved that it appeared normal. His sensation of movement,
however, remained oddly disconnected. At that moment the only
things he knew for sure was that his name was Data and he had lots
of friends.
"Thank you." he said feebly, "I'm not feeling too well right now.
Can I go lie down somewhere?"
Doctor Crusher and Captain Picard exchanged puzzled looks.
No one had ever heard Data say he was not "feeling" well. The
Doctor had another reason to be concerned; some of her medical
tricorder readings had been distinctly humanoid. She felt it
would be best to keep Data under observation in sickbay until she
and Geordi could ascertain what was wrong. As Worf escorted
Data off the Bridge, it was obvious to everyone that something
was seriously amiss.
***************
Al found Sam lying in sickbay, looking miserable and confused.
There were several people in the room so he had to keep Sam quiet.
He leaned over and spoke softly.
"Sam, don't talk, don't react, just listen and, please, STAY CALM.
You've leaped into the 24th century. You're an android named Data
and you're an officer on a spaceship called, can you believe this,
The USS Enterprise. The reason you feel so bizarre is because
you periodically cross brainwaves with Data's computer brain."
Sam's eyes were shut tight as he tried to avoid another panic
attack. Without thinking, he unexpectedly yelled back at Al as if
in a daze.
"NO! This can't be!" he shouted. "How the hell did I get in the
24th century? And you're telling me I'm supposed to be some
kind of...MACHINE!" Snapping back to reality, he realized that
his outburst had probably drawn the attention of the other people
in sickbay. He opened his eyes fully and stared apologetically at
Al, whose iridescent, glittered, blue shirt and tie brought a
reluctant smile to Sam's face.
Doctor Crusher and Geordi both responded quickly to the android's
nonsensical outburst and unusual grin. Running over to the foot
of the bed, they spoke in whispers to each other, hoping Data
wouldn't overhear.
"Geordi, is it possible for Data's brain to have hallucinations?"
"I'm not sure," Geordi responded while taking tricorder readings,
"but there's an unidentified energy source in the area to the left
of his bed. It resembles holographic emissions. That might be
causing some kind of positronic misfire. I just don't know yet."
"Ahhhhhh" Sam moaned as the imaging chamber door slammed shut and
Al disappeared.
A minute later, Geordi leaned over Sam.
"How ya doin', Data? We're really worried about you."
Geordi grinned at him, "You haven't self-installed any weird
emotion chips lately, have you?'
Sam smiled back dopily, "No...no weird chips." The smile only
made things worse.
"Geordi," Doctor Crusher shouted from across the room, "here's
the positronic parallel interface connector."
"Thanks, Doctor Crusher."
Sam registered the names; Geordi, Doctor Crusher.
Geordi came back and leaned over Sam again, this time holding
a thin wire in his hand. If Sam had been able to sweat, he would
have been drenched by now, but he was still in that same
disembodied state he had felt on the Bridge.
"Data, we're going to take your non-critical channel paths
offline and hook your positronic test matrix to the system
control console. You'll have to turn over so I can attach this
interface." Geordi showed Sam the wire.
Sam wasn't entirely sure what Geordi was talking about, but he
was smart enough to know it wasn't something you wanted to do to
a human brain. "You know, I'd rather not be offline right now. I
have a splitting headache. Maybe we can do this some other time?"
"Some other time?" Geordi was totally puzzled. "Data..."
but he was interrupted by the Doctor, who suggested that they
just leave Data alone for a while and let him rest.
***************
Returning to sickbay a short time later, Al found Sam still in
bed and still wearing that same depressed and detached expression,
eerily very much like Data's normal face. He signaled to Sam to
get rid of everyone so they could talk. After sending the medics
off on some inane errand the two men were finally alone.
"Sam, I've been trying to get some info out of the real Data.
He's a nice guy, for an android, and he wants to be helpful, but
he's got some kind of special order, a prime directive, whatever
you wanna call it, that prevents him from telling too much.
Anyway, he suggests that you offer to run diagnostics on yourself
using the equipment in his quarters. That's what he does when his
computer brain goes cafluey. If you let that engineer with the
designer sunglasses run tests on you, he's gonna figure out PDQ
that something's not kosher."
Sam sat up from the bed, suddenly interested in Al's babbling.
"That man's name is Geordi and he's been very nice to me, so I
don't want to hear any nasty cracks about him. Fortunately, he
hasn't done any extensive testing yet. Doctor Crusher is letting
me rest first."
"Doctor Crusher...that's the pretty blond in the blue lab coat,
right? She's a real looker. But Sam, have you seen the brunette
in the tight jumpsuit with the big bazooms? MAMMA MIA, I almost
had heart failure!"
Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling and lay back down on the bed.
"Al, PLEASE, just find out from Ziggy what I'm supposed to do so
I can get the hell out of here. And is anyone investigating the
string enigma that caused this time displacement?"
"Well, figuring out what you're supposed to do is a little iffy,
since this is the future and Ziggy has no information to process.
We have to rely on what Data's willing to tell us. And he's
also been helping with the string problem. Even though he had to
disobey orders to do it, he linked himself up to Ziggy and gave
her a few calculations to chew on that almost fried her chips."
Al cocked his head and gave Sam a big cheer-up grin, "You know, I
think Ziggy's in love."
"That's just great, Al." Sam said, half smiling and half
grimacing. "Anything else?"
Al began gesticulating wildly, waving his cigar around in big
circles, and banging the handlink every now and then for no
apparent reason.
"This Data guy's IQ must be a gazillion. He's got some theories
about strings connecting across spacetime, and gravity bending
the universe, and some other mumbo-jumbo that I don't understand.
And you should have heard Ziggy and Data discussing quantum
physics. It was AMAZING. Like being in the presence of a couple
of Einsteins...or a couple of Becketts." He winked at Sam.
"But, the REALLY incredible thing about this Data, is that,
even though he's a robot, he's fully functional, if you catch
my drift. I mean, he told me he's done it a few times."
Al leaned in close to Sam, took a puff, and grinned. "Thought
you should know that, just in case you get any interesting
offers from one of these 24th century babes."
Sam closed his eyes and shook his head.
"OH GOD, Al! You were talking to an android about SEX? Don't you
ever think about anything else?
"Sure I do...sometimes."
***************
Sam did as Al had suggested; he convinced Doctor Crusher to
release him to Data's quarters under the pretext of running
diagnostics. Captain Picard placed him on temporary inactive
duty, so mercifully, he didn't have to actually DO anything.
As Sam tried to settle into his quarters, he discovered that
sometimes even an IQ of 267 is not enough when dealing with
new appliances. He blew up the replicator trying to get breakfast
and spent two hungry hours wondering if androids ever ate real
food. Not being certain, he used the cat he found wandering
around as an excuse to request repairs. "Gotta make the kitty
chow," he said to a mechanic who was thinking that Data had
really lost it.
Successful at last in creating a roll and a cup of soup, he was
relishing the meager meal when a wandering memory caught hold
of him. Didn't he once see a movie where someone asked someone
else, "Do you...eat?" That silly quote found its way through
one of the swiss-cheese holes to torment him. Who were those
characters? Laughing sarcastically, he asked himself,
"Do I...eat?"
After ten minutes of feasting, he sat down in front of Data's
imposing console, toying with the idea of trying out some 24th
century technology. Logic told him to just sit tight and wait
for news from Ziggy, but his curiosity and boredom got the
better of him.
He knew from watching others that this ship's computer was voice
activated and responded with vocal answers. In fact, the ship's
computer sounded a little like Ziggy. Sam hoped the voice
security system would recognize him as Data.
"Computer, please identify me."
"You are Commander Data of Starfleet, current assignment USS
Enterprise."
Sam breathed a sigh of relief; he had fooled the computer, even
if he hadn't fooled Spot. The cat was standing on the
workstation, haunches up, hissing at him.
"You're right. I was being very rude."
He took a short break to feed Spot something from the food
replicator and then got back to business.
"Computer, please list all officers of the Enterprise and show
me their identity photos."
His photographic memory easily absorbed all the information as the
computer flashed it on the screen. Even though he had already
learned a few things about the crew, he now knew more, and that
would help him function.
"Computer, compute spacetime curvature along an axis
intersecting..." Before he could finish someone was at his door.
"Come in," he said, expecting to see Geordi or Doctor Crusher. It
was Deanna Troi.
*******************
- End Part 1 -
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