The Complication

Down the Rabbit Hole

Author's Note: Thank you for the likes, kudos, comments, and messages on Twitter!

This was intended to be the conclusion of our black hole story arc.

Aaaannnd then it got really long. After cutting about 3k words I decided I just couldn't bring myself to cut any more. Instead, I split it into two chapters.

Our roadmap of what's on the horizon for the next few chapters:

- The introduction of Lwaxana Troi and Worf's parents 

- An evening at Ten Aft 

- The Starfleet Academy Reunion

- The Battle

- The Big Goodbye

As always, if you like my works or want to stay up to date with my art, comics, or just like chatting about the fandom you can join me @TheTartanTart on Twitter.

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"I can hear the hum from the shield protecting the probe," Data said. "It is steady. Your ears would consider it unwavering, but there is a 3.7 decibel variance output in the sound."

Data was sitting on the coffee table in Deanna's office.

She was seated across from him in her customary chair as she guided him through an exercise to process his feelings during their latest mission.

"The exposed circuitry under my cranial unit does not contain any sensors," Data explained. "However, I can feel the cold temperature of exposed space on the bioplast that covers my face. It is -237 degrees."

Data paused. His brow furrowed.

"There is no light within the probe. I can see in the dark, but there is nothing to view other than the casing," Data described as his features contorted in pain. "It is so very like the crate in which Commander Maddox held me for so long."

The ordeal of travelling in that probe had, in many ways, retraumatised Data.

During his time in captivity under Maddox, the threat of disassembly had been constant. Maddox had abused him – removing his forearms or leg components. It offered Maddox time to study Data's specifications without needing compliance from the android and served to deter any disobedience.

Worst of all, it objectified Data – dehumanising him into nothing more than a machine.

It had taken all of his nerve to go through with getting into the probe.

Part of why Data had demanded Geordi be the one to place him inside was a fear of anyone else seeing just how terrified he was.

Data hated that he had forced Geordi to endure that. As Geordi had lowered him inside, both men shared a look of understanding that spoke to how afraid they were.

There had been a moment – just before Geordi had shut the lid – in which Data had nearly lost his composure.

Internally, Data had felt like he wanted to scream, to beg for anything other than the encased darkness that awaited him.

The loneliness was unbearable, the dark a torment.

"I ran through a list of all known elements to pass the time. I recounted the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in their entirety. Mostly, I sang," Data recalled. "I would have wept were I capable of doing so without my torso unit."

The biofluid sacs that produced tears located in his cranial unit were reliant upon his central servo pump located in his chest cavity.

"As strange as this may sound, Counsellor, I believe the sensation of weeping would have provided relief," Data confessed.