***The Hills of Time***
***by George Pollock, Jr.***

***Chapter 9***
***Suspicious Minds***

   It looks like a damn posh hotel room, Odo thought.
   "I hope you will find these quarters adequate, Constable," Data said.
   "More than adequate, Commander," the changeling replied. "Thank you."
   "May I remind you that Captain Picard has scheduled a briefing at 1000 in 
our conference lounge? Ask the computer or any crew member to show you the 
way."
   Odo nodded. "I'll be there."
   "Will there be anything else, Constable?"
   "Actually, yes."
   "What is it?"
   Odo studied his host. "If my information is correct, you're an android, 
are you not?"
   "That is correct."
   "The only one in the crew?"
   "Yes."
   Odo crossed his arms, resting his chin in one hand. "A totally unique 
being."
   "Not always," Data noted. "I had an older ... brother ... His name was 
Lore. I was compelled to ... deactivate him ... when he ... malfunctioned."
   "But here on the Enterprise, you're the only being of your kind."
   "That is correct."
   "Much as I am the only changeling on Deep Space Nine."
   "The analogy is sound, Constable."
   Odo thought. "Do you ever get lonely?"
   Data paused, tilting his head slightly sideways as he considered the 
question. Then he looked back at Odo. "Sometimes. But not often."
   "Why is that?"
   After a moment, Data shrugged. "I have friends."
   Odo nodded again. "And ... so do I ... Bridging the gap between lifeforms 
isn't ... easy ..." He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then his focus 
seemed to return. "You're ... a lucky man, Commander ..."
   The android blinked, not entirely sure how to react. He wasn't entirely 
sure what point the conversation had.
   So he decided -- in 0.63 of a second -- to play it safe:
   "Thank you."

*******

   The doors opened.
   A brown-skinned man with blue eyes.
   And a smile.
   Troi smiled back. "Good morning, Geordi."
   "Counselor," LaForge replied as he entered the turbolift. "How was your 
evening on DS9?"
   "Very nice, thank you. Commander Riker and I met Worf's new wife."
   LaForge shook his head and chuckled as the turbolift started moving. "Hard 
to believe Worf's married -- and to a Trill, yet. Always thought he'd end up 
with a Klingon woman -- someone who'd make love to him one moment and pull a 
knife in anger on him the next. Well, you never know ..."
   Troi smiled quietly. "I'm not surprised. ... She's a Starfleet officer 
with battle citations, so she's no wilting flower. And I sensed ... she truly 
loves him ... and she satisfies ... his romantic side ..." Her voice drifted 
off.
   LaForge positively snickered. "WORF? Romantic?"
   The darkhaired woman nodded. "When you get to know him well," she said, 
"you learn some surprising things ..."
   The turbolift's whine slowed, and the car halted. The doors opened.
   Worf was there.
   "Speak of the devil," LaForge said, "and he appears ..."
   The Klingon nodded tersely. "Counselor. Commander. Good to see you again." 
He stepped in and extended his hand to LaForge.
   The chief engineer shook it. "You, too, Mr. Worf. Glad to have you back 
aboard. Settled in?"
   "Yes. After the spartan quarters on the Defiant, the guest quarters here 
seem lavish."
   "Somehow," Troi teased, "you'll adapt, I think."
   Worf grunted in agreement. "You'll both be at the briefing, I assume?"
   "Hope to," LaForge said. "There's a plasma leak in engineering that delta 
shift couldn't plug. I'm going to look at it before the meeting."
   "Serious?"
   "More annoying than serious."
   Troi spoke up. "I'll be reporting on the crew's emotional condition."
   "And I," Worf said, "will assess the ship's readiness against Dominion 
weapons and tactics. I am on my way to that briefing now."
   "We've gotten out of fights with the Dominion before," LaForge noted.
   Worf turned toward him. "It never hurts to be prepared, Commander."
   The turbolift slowed to a stop, and the doors opened. "Well," the engineer 
said, "this is my floor. See you two at the briefing."
   Troi nodded. "See you, Geordi."
   "Later," Worf said.
   The doors closed again. As the turbolift started up, Worf turned to Troi. 
"I ... trust you slept well, Counselor?"
    "Yes, thank you. And you?"
    "I ..." He paused and considered  how to phrase it diplomatically for 
her. "I ... stayed up ... with my wife .."
   Troi's eyes lit up in understanding. Then she smiled broadly. "Oooh ..."
   He studied her for another moment. "Counselor ... may I ask you a 
question?"
   "That's a question already, Mr. Worf ..."
   "What?"
   "Never mind. What's your question?"
   "When you were with ... my wife ... last night ... what did you discuss 
...?"
   Troi was genuinely puzzled. "You were there, Worf ..."
   "I mean, when you were .. in the females' ... restroom ..."
   The clarification dawned on her. "Oh, that!" She paused. "Do you always 
... ask after your wife's conversations ... Mr. Worf ...?"
   The Klingon looked indignant, confused and a little defensive. "No. Of 
course not ..."
   Troi turned playful. "Trust is an essential element of marriage, Mr. Worf 
..."
   "I am aware of that!" The outburst silenced the turbolift. Worf sensed he 
had overreacted and tried to allay her expression of concern. "It's just that 
Commander Riker and I ... were .. speculating .. about what you two were 
talking about ..."
   Troi sighed. "Well ... to a degree ... I consider it a private 
conversation, Worf. But as it involved your wife, I recognize your right to 
ask. I might suggest that you ask your wife about it. But again, that might 
give her a signal that you want control over small aspects of her life. Is 
that something you want?"
   Worf huffed. "No. Of course not."
   "Well ... it's something to think about." After a silence, she smiled. 
"But the fact is, Worf ... we talked about you ..."
   The Klingon nodded pensively. "Commander Riker said as much ... His 
perception is ... amazing  ..."
   "He's an amazing man," Troi agreed. "I'm ... starting to rediscover that 
..."
   "Counselor?"
   She shook her head. "Nothing ... Just thinking out loud ..."
   The turbolift slowed  to a halt, and the doors opened. Troi started to 
leave, then turned back to him. "By the way, Mr. Worf," she said, "I didn't 
get a chance to tell your wife something last night. Would you tell her for 
me?"
   "Certainly. What is it?"
   Troi studied him appreciatively. "Tell your wife ... I think she's the 
luckiest woman I've ever met ..."
   And with that, she turned and walked out of sight.
   After a moment, Worf grunted in self-satisfaction.
   The doors closed. 

*******

   "Your son's first love ... was a shape-shifter ...?"
   Beverly Crusher nodded. "When she was in humanoid form, she was rather 
attractive. It broke his heart when he learned she ... wasn't ... um ... what 
she appeared to be ..." It suddenly struck the doctor that the changeling 
might take offense at her son's taste in companions.
   Odo thought. "Well ... from what you've said ... he was only a child at 
the time. Had he been older, he might have ... appreciated ... his situation 
more ..."
   Crusher nodded again, pensively this time. Odo liked the doctor. Maybe 
it's the hair, he thought. I admit I am partial to redheads ... "I'm involved 
with a humanoid female, myself," he volunteered.
   "Really? Is it a good relationship?"
   "I think so."
   "Are there any ... special ... challenges?"
   Odo smiled. "There are special challenges in every relationship, Doctor."
   Crusher smiled back. "Touche."
   The conference lounge's doors opened. Worf and LaForge walked in, talking 
intently but stopping as they joined Crusher and Odo. "Doctor," the Klingon 
said in greeting. "Constable, have you met Commander Geordi LaForge? Our 
chief engineer."
   "I haven't had the pleasure," Odo replied. He shook LaForge's hand. 
"Commander."
   Geordi returned the greeting. "Honored to meet the law on Deep Space Nine, 
Constable. Worf was telling me about you and the others on the station. And 
I've encountered only three other changelings in my life, so I appreciate the 
opportunity."
   Odo was curious. "Three? The doctor told me of only two."
   "Wesley's princess and her guardian," Crusher explained.
   "Oh, yeah," the engineer said, nodding. "We met another ... shape-shifter 
... on a scientific outpost. It ..." LaForge stopped himself short suddenly.
   "It ... what?" Odo asked.
   Crusher and Worf looked at each other, then at LaForge, knowing the 
uncomfortable episode he had broached. La Forge thought about how to phrase 
it, then decided to be direct: "It ... killed a man ..."
   The constable was silent for an instant. "I see ...," he finally said. 
"I'm sorry to hear that ..."
   "I had to ... destroy it with a phaser ... in self-defense," LaForge added.
   Odo sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that, too ..."
   "It would have killed Geordi, too," Worf noted.
   An awkward moment later, Crusher volunteered, "Constable ... I don't think 
we mean to paint with a broad brush. The princess and her guardian were 
decent beings ..."
   "I'm sure they were," the constable replied. "And I recognize that among 
my species, there are the good and the bad ..."
   He surveyed the Klingon and the two humans listening to him.
   "... Just as there among all intelligent species ...," he observed.
   If the three others had anything to say to that, the opening of the doors 
robbed them of the chance. 
   Picard walked in, followed by Riker, Troi and Data. The assembly waited 
for the captain to arrive at the head of the conference table before sitting.
   "Well," Picard started, "thank you all for coming. I want to begin by 
officially welcoming Lieutenant Commander Worf back to the Enterprise fold. 
And welcoming Constable Odo of Deep Space Nine." He turned to the changeling. 
"Your presence here is a guarantee of our safety on this mission, and I 
express the crew's appreciation for your joining us."
   "It's hard to say, 'No,' to the Bajoran Council of Ministers, Captain," 
Odo said, smiling, "but thank you. I hope my presence here benefits all 
aboard."
   "I'm certain it will. Now ... to the business at hand: You all know we're 
on our way to a parley with the Founders on their home planet. Despite their 
assurances that we will not be harassed on our journey, I have ordered the 
ship on yellow alert for the duration of our mission." He paused. "No offense 
is intended against your people's veracity, Constable."
   Odo shrugged. "None taken. I agree with the decision. And for the record, 
Captain: I don't necessarily believe everything my people say ..."
   "Yellow alert is an appropriate precaution," Worf ventured.
   "And with that," Picard continued, "tell us our tactical status, Mr. Worf."
   The Klingon leaned forward. "Weapons systems are fully operational. I 
would like to run drills to train weapons crews in Dominion tactics and 
weaponry."
   Picard nodded. "Make it so. Engineering?"
   "There's a small plasma leak that I'm having my people track down," 
LaForge said.
   "Estimate on repairs?"
   The engineer smiled. "Have it fixed in 30 hours, sir."
   Picard chuckled quietly. "With the usual 50 percent leeway you give 
yourself, Mr. LaForge?"
   "As always, Captain."
   "As soon as possible, then, Geordi. We might need to make a quick exit."
   "Aye."
   Picard turned to Troi. "Crew's emotional condition?"
   "They're ... concerned ...," the counselor answered. "Hate to admit it, 
but there's a lot of speculation that we're walking into a trap, sir."
   "Understandable. I have that suspicion myself. Recommendations?"
   "I think that showing we're on our guard -- yellow alert and the drills -- 
will help. A sense of being prepared for surprises will alleviate some 
concerns."
   "Agreed."
   Riker spoke up. "And they have faith in you to get them out of trouble, 
sir."
   Picard nodded. "A sacred trust, I assure you, Number One. Doctor?"
   "Captain," Crusher began, "because of the nature of our mission, and the 
risk of Dominion infiltration, I'd like to get new blood samples from the 
crew."
   Odo sighed. "Because changelings don't have blood ..."
   "Yes," the doctor said. "Exactly ..."
   Picard was puzzled. "Surely we have samples from the crew already."
   Crusher replied, "But if a changeling somehow switched places with a crew 
member since those samples were taken ..."
   "... new samples would reveal the switch," Odo finished.
   "Yesss ...," the doctor said again, this time with the tiniest hint of 
irritation. "Exactly ..."
   Odo picked up on her tone. "Forgive me, Doctor. You're proceeding as a law 
officer would in investigating a crime. Like ... I .. would investigate ..."
   Crusher thought. "Then ... you wouldn't mind if my ... investigation ... 
asked for a sample of your morphagenic matrix, Constable?"
   "I admit I'm a changeling, Doctor ..."
   The doctor pondered. "For a sample? For the record?" She paused. "Please?"
   Odo smiled. "My earliest memories, Doctor, are of being a test sample -- 
for the record -- in a Cardassian scientist's laboratory."
   Crusher looked pleadingly at the captain for support. An instant later, 
Picard knew how to give it. "If you'll join me in sickbay directly after this 
meeting, Constable, I'll give the first blood sample -- if you would be so 
kind as to give Doctor Crusher a matrix sample at that time. Is that 
satisfactory?"
   The changeling considered the offer, then nodded. "That is satisfactory, 
Captain. And fair ..."
   "Good. Mr. Data, would you apprise the others of our course, please?"
   The android got up and walked to the screen wall. One tap later, a star 
chart appeared. "The Founders have dictated," Data said, "that we follow a 
course to their home world that avoids Dominion centers of population and 
military installations." 
   He pointed to a broad bandlike feature that seemed to skirt Dominion 
space. Immediately, a Starfleet insignia marked "USS Enterprise, NCC-1701-E" 
moved slowly along a line next to the band. "For most of our course, we will 
travel near a rather large belt of spatial debris that is a prominent feature 
of the Gamma Quardrant."
   "The Wastes," Odo offered.
   Data nodded. "I believe that is the common name of the belt, Constable. It 
appears to be composed of  planetary fragments, asteroids, dust, ice and 
gases. What is remarkable is the scale: It appears to ring the entire 
quadrant. And evidence suggests that it 'orbits' the frontiers of the 
quadrant."
   "I'll bet that's a slow ride," Riker said.
   "The Wastes have been around for as long as my people can remember -- and 
that's a fair stretch," Odo said. "I learned from the Great Link that most 
spatial debris in the quadrant ends up there, by virtue of its mass and 
gravitational attraction. It's thought that it contains even some of  the ... 
um ... afterbirth ... of this part of the galaxy." He paused. "Its age is 
unimaginable ..."
   Picard shifted in his chair slightly. "Does it pose a danger to the ship 
or crew, Mr. Data?"
   Data thought. "By itself, I don't believe so, Captain. The material 
normally keeps within a stream, if you will, created by the debris's mutual 
gravity. And  radiation levels appear to be within background norms. It is my 
opinion that the structure itself is not a threat to the Enterprise."
   "Very well. Mr. Data, work with Navigation. Plot a course that keeps us 
within the parameters that the Dominion gave us -- but with as wide a berth 
from the ... Wastes ... as possible."
   The android nodded curtly. "Yes, sir. I should add that at our current 
speed, we will be within sensor range of the belt by late this evening."
   "It's not the Wastes that we should worry about," Odo said, "it's what 
might be hiding in there ..."
   He was greeted with silence.
   The changeling glanced around. To a man and woman, the others looked the 
most concerned they had since he came aboard. 
   Looks that silently said, " ... I hadn't thought of that ..."
   Odo said, "You have to admit it would be the perfect cover for an ambush 
..."
   Picard sat back. "Yes, it would, indeed ..."
   The constable saw that the others were still filled with new fear. Fear 
that they now couldn't afford to show to the rest of the crew.
   Fear he had put there -- even with the best intentions.
   Damn, Odo thought ...
   "I'm sorry ...," he said after a moment. "I'm a policeman ... It's my job 
to be suspicious ..."
   
*******

   The dark-red fluid started flowing into the vial. When the container 
filled, a slight hiss shut off the hypospray.
   Crusher pulled the device off Picard's shoulder and inspected the vial.  
"Well," she said a shade playfully, "it looks like the real thing, Captain."
   Picard rubbed his shoulder lightly and smiled. "I'm encouraged, Doctor ..."
   Nurse Ogawa handed Crusher another vial, which the doctor popped onto the 
hypospray. "Your turn, Constable," she said.
   Odo sighed, then nodded. As Crusher applied the hypospray, an 
almost-iridescent brown gelatinous substace oozed into the vial.  Picard 
watched it intently.
   "I am always fascinated," he told the changeling, "by the amazing ways 
life finds to manifests itself."
   "Hmm ...," was Odo's only reply.
   Another slight hiss, and Crusher pulled the hypospray away. "There. All 
done. That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"
   "They teach that line in medical school, Doctor ...?" Odo asked 
sardonically.
   "Actually ...," Crusher replied, handing the vial to the nurse, "I read it 
in someone's first novel ..." She shot him a slight smirk.
   Odo smiled. "Touche."
   Crusher smiled back. "Thank you for the sample, Constable."
   "And I thank you, too," Picard said. "Shall we leave medicine to the 
professionals now?" He indicated the door.
   Odo nodded and followed Picard out of sickbay. "Captain," the changeling 
said in the corridor outside, "I want to apologize for distressing your 
officers at the briefing. I could see that the prospect of an ambush was ... 
disturbing ..."
   Picard shook his head as they headed toward a turbolift. "No need to 
apologize, Constable. Such briefings are to articulate all relevant topics. 
I'm certain Captain Sisko would agree with me about such briefings on Deep 
Space Nine. And observing that an ambush is possible on our mission is 
certainly relevant, to me."
   "I felt I had to bring it up, as I would for Captain Sisko."
   "Feel free," Picard said, "to bring up anything you might think is useful, 
at any time. I'll appreciate it as much as Ben Sisko would."
   Odo nodded. "I will."
   "In fact," the captain said as they arrived at the turbolift, "you could 
enlighten me right now."
   "How so?" Odo asked. The doors opened, and they stepped in.
   "I haven't had much time to review the Founders' entire history. Bridge," 
Picard told the computer.
   "Deck Eight," Odo added. "What do you want to know, Captain?"
   "There's not much in Federation records about the origins of the Founders. 
I have an interest in archaeology, which tends to spread to an interest in 
history. Tell me: Where -- and how -- did your people originate?"
   Odo sighed. "Captain ... I honestly don't know. No one does ..."
   "Captain Sisko told me you were in the Great Link once. Did you gain any 
insights from that?"
   "Only images. The Great Link is something like a unorganized library or 
archive. Our history is a sort of mentally shared ... um, oral ... history. 
Images, facts, are presented -- but almost without any interpretation."
   "Unfortunate."
   "I did come away with a sense -- a feeling -- that the Founders came to 
the home world from ... well, somewhere else. That they drifted through the 
galaxy until they arrived there."
   Picard thought. "Not indigenous?"
   "The ... feeling ... I got was that they were ... running away ..."
   "From what?"
   The changeling surveyed the humanoid. "Solids, Captain. They were running 
away from solids." He turned toward the door in thought. "They were always 
fighting ... solids. But I also got a sense that ... some of them ... reached 
out to some solids ... reached out ... to ... women ..."
   Picard's eyebrows lifted. "I beg your pardon?"
   Odo shook his head. "Nothing. It's ... one of the images that makes no 
sense on its own, as I said. But it's clear that my people were always 
pursued by solids. It made them suspicious of outsiders. More than anything 
else, it made them obsessed with being masters of their realm. To the point 
of dominating -- conquering -- solids ..."
   "And thus," Picard said, "the Dominion ..."
   "Yes."
   The turbolift slowed to a stop, and the doors opened. "If you'll excuse 
me, Captain, this is where my quarters are," Odo said. "I hope that what I've 
said will be of help to you."
   Picard nodded. "Most helpful, Constable, thank you. And," he added as Odo 
started to depart, "I invite you to get to know the Enterprise crew. I think 
that along with your experiences on Deep Space Nine, that will reinforce that 
not all solids are to be feared."
   Odo smiled. "Thank you, Captain, but you're too late. I've already learned 
that. In fact ... my favorite teacher has been a redheaded Bajoran woman ..."
   Picard's knowing nod and smile disappeared as the doors closed.

*******

   A cat.
   Much later, the last thing Data would remember about the incident was ...
   A cat.
   Actually, the first thing he remembered about the incident was ...
   A cat.
   His cat.
   Spot.
   Calculating the course near the Wastes had taken only a short time, and 
the android  provided the information to Navigation, as ordered. The rest of 
his shift was uneventful. More memorable was the string-quartet concert in 
Ten Forward that evening, followed by the poker game in Cmdr. Riker's 
quarters. Riker had won. Data could calculate the odds of a winning hand 
better, but the first officer could bluff even better.
   Even though everyone agreed that Data was more poker-faced.
   After saying good night to the other players late in the evening, Data 
returned to his quarters. As he did, he noted the time on his internal 
chronometer. Soon, very soon, the Enterprise would be within sensor range of 
the Wastes. But he had plotted a path that would keep the ship at arm's 
length from the belt, as Geordi would say.
   To which, Data would note that the starship didn't have arms.
   To which, Geordi would reply, "It's just a saying, Data ..."
   Data entered his quarters.
   And was greeted by ...
   A cat.
   His cat.
   Spot.
   The orange tabby jumped off the chair at Data's work station with a thump, 
crossing to the door. She silently rubbed her body and face all over Data's 
ankles. 
   Marking territory with scent, Data noted.
   Showing affection, Counselor Troi would say.
   The android had found it hard to argue with her on the point.
   He petted Spot and sat down in the chair. The feline jumped up in his lap, 
kneaded his legs, curled up and purred.
   Data studied her as her eyes slowly closed. Do felines dream? he wondered. 
He didn't consider it completely impossible. After all, there had been those 
who had thought that even a most intelligent machine like Data couldn't 
dream. 
   Until he developed a program to do it.
   And that was what he intended to do now.
   The android didn't need rest to maintain alertness. There had been times 
when Data was what organic beings would call "awake" for weeks. He didn't 
need to sleep.
   But he liked to dream. It was ... enlightening. Concepts that his rational 
positronic mind would never associate in "consciousness" blended riotously in 
his dreams. All ideas were fluid.
   All things were possible.
   So, as his eyes slowly closed -- the start of the dream program -- he saw 
a sleepy Spot on his lap.
   And she faded in the darkness ...
   And Data was floating ...
   In a warm green sea. From which he leapt like a dolphin into a brilliant 
blue sky among a shower of diamond drops.
   And flew. High into the sky, among towering cumulus clouds frosted at 
their impossibly high tops with 
 the orange of a setting sun.
   And he sped toward the sun. Faster. And faster.
   Clouds streaked by in white frenzied whisps. Flew under him like white 
lilypads under a diving hawk. 
   Straight for the sun.
   Which ...
   Then ...
   Instantly ...
   Exploded.
   In white light.
   Filling the sky.
   Filling him.
   The wave of whiteness swept past him like a fleeing demon, smashing him 
like a wall and whipping him around in midair.
   Into the blackness.
   The emptiness.
   And the cold ...
   Bitter.  
   Hard.
   Deathly.
   Which is when he saw, faintly, the tomb.
   Squat.
   White.
   Ancient.
   Forgotten.
   Ruined.
   He entered its dark.
   And heard ...
   The whispers ...
   Of ...
   ... of ...
   ... women ...
   The farewells ...
   The crying ...
   And silence.
   Until ...
   Just ahead ...
   Just below ...
   Dimly ...
   A cat.
   A ... statue?
   No, a cat ...
   Frozen, sitting on its haunches.
   Lavender haunches.
   On a lavender body.
   Staring straight ahead.
   Staring ...
   With golden eyes.
   He came closer.
   Closer to the golden eyes.
   And ...
   They moved.
   He started.
   Slowly, the lavender head turned toward him.
   Turning its eyes.
   It looked up at Data.
   It looked up at him.
   It looked at him.
   And then it screamed.
   "ZEEP!"
   A piercing pain shot through Data's head. The tomb flashed with a flood of 
yellow light. It subsided. The android shook his head to clear it.
   But before he could find relief ...
   "ZEEP!"
   A needle of agony splintered his head again. With a flash of yellow.
   Data reeled back away blindly from the lavender cat. It watched him with 
its golden eyes.
   And prepared to strike again.
   Data turned and ran. But not fast enough.
   The cat screamed again.
   "ZEEP!"
   The pain. The flash of yellow.
   Data fell.
   Into the darkness ...
   And onto his floor.
   He looked up. He was in his quarters. He had fallen out of his work 
station chair. A disheveled Spot looked at him nearby on the floor, clearly 
upset by his sudden movement.
   Then ...
   "Zeep ..."
   And a flash of yellow.
   His head twitched.
   No, he thought ...
   "Zeep ..."
   Still dreaming ... ?
   And the twitch again.
   "Zeep ..."
   No ... The floor is real ...
   "Zeep ..."
   Can't focus ...
   "Zeep ..."
   Interference ...
   "Zeep ..."
   The twitching was coming every second now, colored by yellow flashes, and 
he couldn't concentrate.  Data tried to stand and grab the chair. He missed 
and fell again.
   "Zeep ..."
   A final thought:
   "Zeep ..."
   Communicator ...
   "Zeep ..."
   He fought to move his right arm. Slowly, it lifted and crossed his body. 
His fingertips felt the com badge on his chest.
   "Zeep ..."
   His hand fell on the badge. A continuous open circuit would prompt a 
distress signal.
   "Zeep ..."
   The interference started to overwhelm him. He started to fade in a steady 
burst of yellow flashes.
   "Zeep ..."
   But through it, faintly at the last ...
   "Zeep ..."
   He saw Spot.
   Looking down at him. Her golden-trimmed eyes were wide and dark with 
uncomprehending curiosity at the twitching face beneath her.
   "Zeep ..."
   And Spot spoke.
   "Bridge to Commander Data. Bridge to Data. Commander, are you all right? 
Commander Data! Commander! ... Security to Commander Data's quarters! Medical 
team, report ..."
   It was all Data remembered.
   After that, all he knew was a hell-cat's gentle scream.
   "Zeep ..."
   "Zeep ..."
   "Zeep ..."
   "Zeep ..."

TO BE CONTINUED