Chapter Text
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Prologue
Prime Timeline – Stardate 56089.2
USS Enterprise-E – Location: Tzenkethi, Tzenketh System, Alpha Quadrant
“Energize.”
The transporter sprung to life, and a figure began to materialize on the pad. It was Captain Jean-Luc Picard, cradling an artifact and wearing an ornate ceremonial necklace.
“Welcome back, Captain—and congratulations on your one-hundredth peace treaty!” Commander Riker said brightly, a grin spreading across his face.
“Thank you, Number One. I feel at this point they sign them simply to avoid my speeches,” Picard replied, his tone lightly exasperated. “It went off without a hitch—and was brief.”
“So, you think I should cancel the celebration?” Riker asked, feigning innocence.
“Very funny,” Picard quipped dryly.
Riker didn’t change expression.
“You’re serious?” Picard asked flatly.
“One hundred treaties is no small accomplishment,” Riker said. “Counselor Troi insisted, and everyone’s waiting for us.”
Picard sighed heavily, then beckoned the transporter crewman over. He handed over the priceless artifacts.
“Please ensure these are archived properly, Ensign,” he ordered.
The crewman nodded, eyes briefly lingering on the alien ceremonial objects.
“Shall we?” Picard asked, offering a reluctant, diplomatic smile.
In 12 Forward, the ship’s bespoke lounge, the crew milled about from bulkhead to bulkhead. It had been twenty minutes since Riker and Picard had arrived, and they were enjoying drinks while the Captain recounted the ceremony.
Lieutenant Commander Worf sniffed one of the hors d’oeuvres being carried by an attendant and promptly shook his head, declining the offer.
Counselor Troi drifted happily between small groups of officers, radiating warmth and encouragement.
At the bar, Commander Data sat with a PADD in hand, his fingers moving across the display at blistering speed—like a pianist performing a high-tempo piece.
“Data, is everything alright?” Lieutenant Commander La Forge asked, placing a thoughtful hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Unfortunately,” Data replied without looking up, “having emotions means occasionally having… obsession.”
His fingers continued to dance over the PADD.
“What’s got you so obsessed?” Geordi asked, concern coloring his voice. Data’s lack of social awareness was uncharacteristic; normally, he prioritized such interactions.
“Time,” Data said simply.
“Time? Is there something I might be able to help with?”
“I do not believe so. I have been conducting a significant amount of experimentation in my free time, and I do not believe I could catch you up quickly enough for you to be of benefit. There is not enough…”
“Time, yeah... I got it.” Geordi smiled faintly. “Well, alright. Just try not to burn yourself out.”
“I do not believe that is possible,” Data said, still focused on the display. “But I appreciate your concern. I will publish my findings; you may review them later, if you like.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll talk to you later, then,” Geordi said softly, stepping back into the crowd.
Data paused. His fingers hovered above the PADD for a moment as he noted his friend’s possible offense. He made a mental note to reach out to Geordi later and make amends.
Then he looked down at the glowing PADD, studying the faint reflection of his own face on its surface.
“Perhaps… a Möbius strip?” Data murmured to himself.
Chapter 1 – The Old and the New
Prime Timeline – Stardate 57234.4
Daystrom Institute – Location: Okinawa Japan, Earth, Alpha Quadrant
Captain Geordi La Forge’s first command posting had come not aboard a starship, but planetside, the Department of Acquisitions at the Daystrom Institute. It was an administrative command, a quiet one, and a customary assignment for veteran officers who had spent too many years among the stars.
The first few weeks were peaceful. Almost too peaceful. By the sixth month, Geordi had finally found his footing on solid ground, but the stillness was starting to suffocate him. There was too much paperwork and too little science, too much oversight and not enough engineering.
His mornings followed a familiar pattern: a fresh cup of coffee from the café across the street, a short walk to the Institute, only a few blocks from the high-rise where most of the staff lived, and a slow start to another uneventful day. His office overlooked a small docking bay that housed two shuttles and connected via secure corridors to the rear of Daystrom’s massive archives. From that perch, he oversaw a contingent of forty-six officers handling operations, logistics, security, and flight operations.
Most of them, Geordi suspected, were here because they weren’t fit for deep-space duty. He would never say it aloud, but he often wondered whether Starfleet had stationed him here for the same reason, good enough for command, but not a ship.
He was surrounded by the greatest scientific minds in the Federation, yet somehow he felt cut off at the knees.
In truth, it was a practical posting. As a former chief engineer, he’d been read into more classified technology than most admirals. The position required that level of trust. Many of his officers were combat veterans, survivors of battles or disasters, sent here to recover before reassignment. But Geordi didn’t see that clearly. His frustration and sense of exile had built walls between him and the very people he was supposed to lead.
The Admiralty had thought Japan, a serene, beautiful expanse of sea and sky, might help them heal. But for Geordi, the silence was starting to erode his patience.
“Sir, I need you to approve these requisitions. We need to pick them up from the Starfleet Annex.”
The voice startled him. A human lieutenant from operations stood at his desk, extending a PADD. He hadn’t even noticed her enter. The office had no door, something he found increasingly maddening.
He took the device, scanning it absently for any special transport conditions. Then he froze. His heart began to pound.
“When did we receive this requisition request?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“This morning, sir,” she said, hesitantly.
“This requisition is approved,” he said quickly. “I want to be notified the moment the shuttle arrives. Actually, make that ten minutes before arrival. I’ll meet it in the landing zone myself.”
“Aye, sir.” She retrieved the PADD and departed crisply.
Geordi rose, moving to the wide viewport overlooking the shuttle bay. He exhaled deeply and watched the slow, methodical bustle of the hangar crew. When the shuttle finally lifted off, he began to pace. Time slipped by unnoticed.
“Captain, I need approval for this requisition, please.”
He jumped slightly. The same lieutenant was standing there again, PADD in hand. He hadn’t even heard her come in. Hours had passed.
“Are you all right, sir?” she asked gently.
“Yes, Lieutenant. Let me see.” He took the PADD, signing the approval almost automatically. She worked operations two days a week; he was more accustomed to Lieutenant Commander Wilcox, who always asked permission to enter. Truth be told, Geordi didn’t even know her name.
“These look fine. Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir.” She turned to go, then hesitated. “Sir… I know we don’t know each other well, but I recognize that look. You’re struggling.”
Geordi frowned, caught off guard.
“I was on the Constance,” she said quietly. “Wolf 359.”
He froze. His chest tightened. “I… didn’t know,” he said softly.
“Me and the other survivors... we had a rough time afterward,” she continued. “But I’m doing all right now. I don’t blame anyone, like many of the others. I was just an ensign, fresh out of the Academy, pretty green. I’ve gotten used to recognizing when someone’s fighting something inside. I know you’re my commanding officer, sir, but if you ever need someone to talk to… I’m a good listener.”
La Forge was floored. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. Incompetent. He hadn’t expected compassion from one of his own subordinates, much less one whose name escaped him. “I appreciate that,” he said after a moment. “But it would be inappropriate. Still… thank you.”
The lieutenant’s shoulders fell slightly. She nodded and turned to leave.
“Wait... hold up a second,” Geordi called after her.
She stopped and turned back.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “We’ve never been properly introduced, and that’s on me. What’s your name, Lieutenant?”
She blinked, surprised. “Mila Forrester, sir. I guess I forgot to mention it.”
“No, I should have asked a long time ago.” His tone softened. “Thank you, Ms. Forrester. I appreciate your concern.”
“It’s no problem, sir. Plenty of COs don’t know everyone by name, it’s a big fleet.” She smiled faintly, trying to dispel the awkward air. “Oh, the shuttle from the Starfleet Annex should be about ten minutes out now.”
“Right. Thank you.” Geordi grabbed his jacket and hurried past her.
Forrester lingered, watching him disappear into the corridor. She glanced down at the PADD in her hands, tapping it absently against her palm.
“What’s got you so worked up, Captain?” she murmured. Then, with a long exhale, she turned and left the office.
Geordi La Forge stood on the flight line, fingertips tapping together as he waited. The afternoon sun glinted off the shuttle bay’s sleek duranium floor, and within moments, the distant hum of approaching engines reached his ears. He straightened, posture crisp, as the shuttle descended into the bay. The sound reverberated through the hangar, loud enough to rattle his chest, but he steeled himself and came to attention.
As the engines wound down, the rear hatch began to open. Geordi took a few cautious steps forward, peering into the dim interior as the ramp settled with a soft thud.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Dresden Meeks emerged from the cramped cargo section, a PADD tucked under his arm, waving anti-grav loaders forward with practiced efficiency. Then, noticing his commanding officer standing off to the side, he froze mid-step.
“Uh... hello, sir,” Meeks managed, nerves showing.
Geordi’s brow furrowed. “Where’s the coffin?”
“The coffin, sir?” Meeks echoed, confused. The anti-grav crew halted, eyes darting between their lieutenant and the captain. Six officers now stood motionless, watching.
“Yes, the coffin,” Geordi repeated sharply. “There are remains of an officer are aboard this shuttle. Why wouldn’t there be a coffin?”
The question wasn’t aimed at anyone in particular. He stepped onto the shuttle’s ramp, snatched the PADD from Meeks, and began scrolling through its manifest.
Meeks stiffened, instinctively falling into proper bearing. With a subtle nod, he signaled the rest of the ground crew to stand at attention.
“This can’t be right,” Geordi muttered, eyes scanning the PADD.
“Sir, I was told this was a routine transfer,” Meeks replied, his confusion deepening. “No one indicated there was... a body aboard.”
“Nobody told you?” Geordi’s voice rose. Command tone now sharpened by anger. “This manifest clearly states there are remains on this shuttle.”
Meeks blinked, his face a portrait of disbelief. Geordi held up the PADD, his mechanical eyes locking onto Meeks’ human ones.
“This says the cargo contains fragments recovered from the Scimitar debris field in the Hobus Sector,” Geordi read aloud, his tone hardening. “Believed to originate from Lieutenant Commander Data. Doesn’t it, Lieutenant?”
Meeks swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“And what do Starfleet regulations say about the transport of fallen officers?” Geordi asked, turning to address the entire bay crew.
Meeks hesitated. “We don’t... transport bodies, sir. This shipment was tagged for the archive, not a—”
“Not a graveyard?” Geordi interrupted, his voice breaking through the tension like a phaser blast. The PADD trembled in his grip as controlled fury ran down his arms. “You just did. And outside regulations! We honor even a few cells. I’ve seen empty coffins launched into space when there was nothing left to bury. This...” he pointed toward the cargo hold “...is the body of a Starfleet officer. And no matter how little remains, we will honor him properly.”
The bay fell silent. Geordi’s eye, mechanical, unblinking, bore into Meeks until understanding dawned.
Then Meeks snapped to attention. “Aye, sir!” He turned to the others, voice booming with new conviction. “You! Replicate a coffin and a Starfleet flag! Get this loader out of here, assemble an honors detail immediately!”
He turned back. “I apologize, sir. I was out of line.”
Geordi exhaled, anger cooling into exhaustion. “It’s not just your fault. Everyone before you failed Data, too. If anyone from the Enterprise had been involved, this would’ve already been done right.” He looked down, regret softening his tone. “I’ll be sending a message to the Starfleet Annex, and the recovery ship, personally.”
Within thirty minutes, the bay had transformed. The on-duty staff gathered in solemn silence as a replicated coffin, now containing Data’s remains, was ceremoniously draped in the Starfleet flag.
A six-member honor guard ascended the ramp, lifted the coffin in perfect unison, and began their solemn march. The formation snapped to attention as a boatswain’s whistle cut through the silence. Three clear notes echoed against the hangar walls.
They carried Data’s remains off the shuttle, each step measured and reverent, moving toward the secure archive corridor.
Geordi stood at attention, voice steady but thick with emotion.
“We commit Lieutenant Commander Data here today, to his final resting place.”
He paused, lowering his head slightly.
“Rest easy, brother.”
The honor guard disappeared through the archway, the doors sliding shut with final precision. The sound lingered, soft, final, and then there was only silence.
The remaining detail dispersed quietly, returning to their duties as the anti-grav loader hummed back to life. It began retrieving the rest of the shuttle’s contents from the cargo hold.
Geordi had been so fixated on the fragments recovered from the Scimitar that he hadn’t given much thought to the other items aboard, or why the Daystrom Institute wanted them so badly. The rest of the cargo held something even more precious: Data’s personal effects.
Each container was carefully labeled. Inside were his logs, research materials, artwork, and even his violin. Among them was B-4, deactivated and sealed for long-term storage.
Geordi moved between the containers, fingertips brushing across the stenciled labels. He paused over one, keyed it open, and found several PADDs and a compact digital archive module, containing the full breadth of Data’s scientific research.
He stood in silence, memories washing over him. He could almost see Data seated behind his custom work desk aboard the Enterprise-D, and later, the E, methodically analyzing sensor data, painting, or tending to Spot. For a moment, Geordi swore he could smell that faint blend of sterilized circuitry, paint pigment, and cat dander that had always lingered in Data’s quarters.
One of the PADDs stood out from the rest, sleeker, newer. It was one of the upgraded models Starfleet introduced after the fleet-wide tech overhaul. Geordi recognized it instantly. This was Data’s personal PADD from the Enterprise-E.
He remembered the night in 12 Forward, Data hunched over this very device, consumed by something he wouldn’t talk about. Obsession, he’d called it.
Geordi picked up the PADD, thumb brushing the activation strip. The screen came to life, casting a soft glow across his face. For a fleeting moment, he felt like his old friend was still there, just on the other side of the glass.
He began scrolling through the directory of files. Logs. Calculations. Personal notes. Then one entry caught his eye.
PROJECT RELATIVITY
Geordi frowned. “Project... Relativity?” he murmured under his breath. Tapping it open, the display flooded with cascading equations, theoretical schematics, and pages of reference data. Probes. Temporal telemetry. Ultra-universal variance coefficients.
He leaned closer, scanning the lines. “Whoa... Data,” he whispered. “What were you up to?”