It was agreed that Data’s memorial would be held in one of the Enterprise’s larger conference rooms, usually reserved for the ceremonial arrival of honored diplomats. Though it could be said that hundreds of the Enterprise crew were well enough acquainted with Data, and certainly bereaved enough by his loss, to have reasonably attended, both Geordi and the captain decided that holding the gathering in any of the ship’s holodecks would be unthinkable.

“I know I don’t have any official say in the matter,” Geordi had told Picard in the privacy of the ready room, “but doing this anywhere that even vaguely resembles where they were married…”

He hadn’t needed to explain. Leo’s final, painful confrontation of her loss had also occurred in the holodeck. No matter how it was programmed or who it contained, the feelings it would evoke were too painful to confront.

“Quite right, Geordi. I suggest the diplomatic reception room.” He paused for a moment and shook his head. “I confess I’m at a loss… I have no idea at all what arrangements might be appropriate.”

“Keiko and Beverly will take care of that. We thought day after tomorrow, 1300 hours might work.”

Picard consulted his calendar. “Yes. The guests will all have arrived by tomorrow at 1800 hours.” Another pause, and he regarded Geordi with an open expression of astonishment that erased the divisions of rank.

“’Guests’… as if it were a dinner party. Good god Geordi, however will we get through this?”

Geordi smiled then. It was a sad smile, but a certain one.

“Like everything else we’ve done on the Enterprise, sir. Together.”

Picard nodded, but couldn’t manage a smile. “Agreed. Thank you, Commander. Dismissed.”

What a godawful, utterly predictable move.

Starfleet so valued Data, so realized that he was something they could not do without, that they had created another. The "traumatically deactivated officer" Data, now known as "Data Series B", was smoothly recreated from existing tech specifications and engrams, and from the regularly transmitted updates of systemic analyses from Data himself… how could they not recognize the ghoulishness of this decision? “Something” could be recreated. “Someone” could not.

Picard absorbed the content of Starfleet’s communiqué long before he could process its substance. If Data had been so “valued” as an individual officer and member of Starfleet, how could they so quickly have pushed the proper buttons to create what was so poorly defined as a “replacement”? Nonetheless, Starfleet had just notified him as commander of the Enterprise that Data Series B would be commissioned and assigned to his ship as second officer, as Data had been. Apparently other interested parties had been considered unimportant. Including friends and fellow crewmates. Including Data’s spouse. So much for Federation recognition of android humanity. Picard hit the comlink button on his desk with more force than usual.

“Picard to Counselor Troi.”

“Troi here, Captain. What’s wrong?” Deanna could hear the edge in his voice, and lately they had all been cutting to the chase.

“I’ve just received a communication from Starfleet Command…”

Deanna could hear Picard’s fist as it pounded once on the desk.

”Captain? What is it?”

“It would be better if we discuss it in person. Please come to my ready room at your earliest convenience.”

Something was definitely wrong, she could sense a turmoil in the captain that had seemed to quiet down in the week since Data’s destruction. They had purposely delayed any memorial until everyone’s emotions had settled a little more, but something obviously had stirred them up again in the captain. “I’m on my way. Troi out.”

She found him staring at his viewscreen, his expression a combination of dismay and barely contained rage. The emotions she sensed boiling within him were almost startling in their intensity.

“Captain, what’s wrong?” She sat and leaned forward on the desk. “What’s angered you so?”

He related the gist of the communication, ending with, “Good god, can they possibly be so blind to the implications? After all this time, can they possibly be so cruelly blind?”

“Are you sure you read it correctly? We’ve all been a little distracted lately…”

Before Deanna could say more Picard whipped the viewscreen around to face her. “Read it yourself. There’s not enough distraction in the universe to make its intent unclear.”

For a moment Deanna could only sit in stunned silence. Finally she turned the viewscreen back toward the captain. “And you weren’t consulted at all?”

A terse shake of the head. “Obviously the thoughts of the commanding officer of the ‘traumatically deactivated officer’ weren’t worthy of consultation.” He paused for a moment, then spat the despised phrase out again, “’the traumatically deactivated officer’! By god if this had been delivered in person I couldn’t speak for my behavior. They didn’t even use his name except to refer to the ‘newly created replacement android’.” Picard turned off the viewscreen and struggled to regain control.

His silent struggle concerned Troi. “Captain? Please, tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

He huffed and shook his head in dismay. “I’m feeling… I’m thinking… did we really ever accomplish anything? After all the legal wrangling and personal struggle, after Lal and Leo and even the launch of the new Android Culture project at Daystrom, have they really not learned anything?”

“I think it will take them awhile to master a new vocabulary equal to the changes that they’ve acknowledged.” Picard’s tense scowl told her he disagreed. “Captain… there’s more than frustration here. I can sense that you’re also deeply offended, angered on a very personal level.”

Picard sprang to his feet. “You’re right about that, Counselor.” He paced to the center of the room. “Data was a valued crewmember, a cherished colleague,” he looked down at his clenched fists, and opened them.

“And a friend. And it disturbs you to see him devalued,” Deanna observed.

“It disturbed me to see him destroyed!” Picard exploded. “It disturbed me to see him hand me back my life and discard his own with an almost casual belief in the worthiness of the trade! This…” he pointed a trembling finger at the now-dark viewscreen, “this more than ‘disturbs’ me. He who they dismissively describe as the ‘traumatically deactivated officer’ was the man who saved my life. Data’s character was the sum of knowledge and experience, of trust and belief and, in the end, of emotion, far more than the sum of those parts or any other. He was a man who in substance and action put to utter shame those,” suddenly he could think of no better descriptive than Leo’s, “empty suits at Starfleet and the Federation. And they have the gall to describe him as if he were some shiny new gizmo to replace the space in the toolbox. They have the unspeakable effrontery to presume to ‘replace’ Data Soong as if his loss were simply an operational inconvenience!“

As she listened Deanna felt a sense of relief. As he’d been tending to the needs of his crew, and Leo in particular, since Data’s demise Captain Picard had been carrying inside a powerful mix of rage and guilt. Troi had been unable to persuade him to explore or even admit to it during their sessions. She’d been encouraging the captain to open the doors to those deep chambers he refused to visit, but this admittedly dreadful idea of Starfleet’s obviously had blown the locks right off and there was no more holding back.

So absorbed had Troi been in her observations, and Picard in his tirade, that neither one had noticed the chime of the door comlink. Or the hiss of the opening door, or Leo’s entrance. Feeling a bit more herself after several days of rest and counseling sessions, she’d spent some time in the hydroponic gardens after some coaxing from Keiko, and now wanted to pay a visit to the captain to give him a bit less reason to worry about her. She caught only a part of the captain’s outburst, the major impression being his outrage. But she also heard the words “replace Data”, and in her mind it could only mean one thing. She sprang to the middle of the ready room, causing both Troi and Picard to jump dramatically.

“They’ve found him!” Leo cried out, “they’ve found him and fixed him, and he’s coming back?!”

The stunned, awkward looks worn by Deanna and Picard could only exist on the faces of people who knew her as intimately as these two did.

“No, not exactly,” Deanna explained, scrambling madly in her mind to come up with something that would counterbalance the rage she knew would at the very least be equal to the captain’s. Before she could continue the captain stepped up to face Leo and laid his hands on her shoulders.

“No. I’m sorry you saw any of that, because what has happened is going to be very difficult to accept, and my initial rant was not at all constructive as I’m sure Counselor Troi will agree.”

Leo looked at his hands and recognized the feeling in the gentle pressure of his fingers… support… well, then, she owed it to him to listen calmly, whatever it was.

“What could possibly be worse than what’s happened already?”

He glanced at Troi. “I might have asked that myself, a short while ago.”

As the captain explained Starfleet’s "replacement of the traumatically deactivated officer" both he and Deanna braced for Leo’s reaction. By the time he’d finished, she stood before them looking more disoriented than enraged.

“I don’t get it… you said they didn’t find him, but he’s being reassigned to the Enterprise.” She’d heard every word, but couldn’t process them in any way that made sense.

“No, Leo,” Deanna attempted to clarify, “they didn't find Data. They have constructed a replacement from Data’s original designs and what engrams they could download from his periodic reporting. ‘Data Series B’, that’s the name they’ve given him.”

Leo backed up a few steps, and regarded both Picard and Troi with a horrified stare. “But you can’t let them do this. A Data look-alike who won’t be Data?” Leo felt sick as she struggled to comprehend.

Even as he elaborated the captain could appreciate the absurdity of the words, “No... not a 'look-alike'. A replacement... reconstructed… from all of Data’s specifications. A 'new' Data.”

“Like a clone.” It was the closest Leo could come to a thinkable analogy. Their silence was assent.

If they’d hoped that Leo would have an easier time with this than they expected, that hope evaporated as Troi and Picard saw her expression tighten.

She shook her head vigorously. What they were proposing was worse than… how could anyone have approved this? How could any of them, Data’s supposed friends, have agreed to allow him to be replaced like a missing machine part?

“No, uh-uh, not a clone. More like a symbient only in reverse. The outside will be the same, but what’s inside will be... what?” Getting no answer she repeated in a louder voice, “What will it be!”

“Perhaps you and Counselor Troi should discuss this privately,” Picard suggested uneasily. It was what he was going to suggest to Deanna anyway, to meet with Leo and see how best to handle the whole nightmarish situation.

“No!” Leo stepped forward again. “You’re telling me that a 'sort-of Data' will be reassigned, all the accurate bits and parts, all the programming downloaded nice and proper from all the proper records, and we’re all just supposed to carry on as if it’s him?”

Picard and Troi exchanged an uneasy look, and reluctantly the captain nodded. “I’m afraid so. If I'd been consulted, which I was not, I can promise you things would be different. As it is, it’s all been arranged, all that remains is the scheduling of the reassignment, and reactivation of Data’s commission.”

Leo took a deep, anguished breath, and pressed her hands to her face for a moment. “Then it was all a lie. All of it. They said he was a man, you said he was a man. But now you’re being sent a new one fresh off the shelf, what does that tell you? He's back to being a toaster and without a whimper of protest from anyone!”

“Nothing we know to be the truth has changed,” Picard said quietly, but he could see the doors in Leo’s eyes had already slammed shut. "Nothing." He hoped his insistence alone would convince her. He wasn't quite surprised that it didn't.

“Well I can see there's no 'good fight' to be fought this time," Leo announced in a flat voice. "Captain, I request a transfer back to the Daystrom Institute.”

“Leo, I don’t think that would be wise right now,” Troi began.

“I didn’t ask you, Counselor,” Leo reminded her bitterly then continued to Picard, “Captain, I want out. I want off this ship, I want to go back to Daystrom to continue the work I started with my husband.” Her tone made it clear she did not consider the soon-to-be-reassigned 'Data Series B' to have any connection at all to the man she referred to.

Reflexively, Picard responded, “Request denied. Your assignment to the Enterprise continues at my discretion.”

She wasn’t having any. Goddammit, if they were going to be forced to redefine Data as replaceable at will, she didn’t plan to be around to see the sorry spectacle unfold.

“I have no assignment here," she spat angrily, "my diplomatic mission is moot, and my former position is rendered redundant. You have no reason to deny my request.”

At this point Deanna interjected, “Captain, perhaps it would be best for me to return to my duties.”

“Yes, yes, dismissed, Counselor.” Picard’s order was issued distractedly as he and Leo remained locked on one another.

“Sir?” Leo icily demanded a response.

“As the commander of the Enterprise I don’t require a ‘reason’, Lieutenant.” Picard checked his rising ire with difficulty. They’d always been prey to their equal and opposite reactions, he and his administrative exec. “In any case, until you’re released from bereavement leave you can’t be reassigned to any duty at all.”

Shit. “Well you have me there. Is there anything else, or can I return to my quarters?”

Picard studied her, perplexed. He sensed a wall rising, and wanted very much to halt its progress. “It was you who came here... what did you need from me?”

Now that was a loaded question... Leo fought the urge to respond as she'd like to. “Oh. Right. I wanted to tell you how much better I was feeling.” She exhaled a bitter laugh. “Funny how things turn on a dime around here.”

He had no answer to that. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Leo was almost to the door when she turned, unable to stop herself. “You promised,” she implored, “you told us he was a man.“

If she’d heard his entire tirade in Deanna’s presence she might not have said it, but for some reason that didn’t make the words any easier to for him to hear.

“So I did. And so he was.”

“Captain, please, I request a transfer,”

He cut her off. “Denied."

The wall rose again.

“Yes, sir. But you can expect me to resubmit my request as soon as I’m cleared for duty.” She turned on her heel and left.

Why did she do that, why did she always do that? Now that Data was gone, was she completely unable to master her own worst impulses? When things got hard, when she felt cornered and was out of ideas, here she was again striking out and spitting poison at the ones who least deserved it. It was the faceless Federation that was responsible for the coming travesty, it was the cold and clueless efficiency of Starfleet, but they were too big and nebulous to lash out at. For Leo the surest antidote to her powerlessness had always been her ability to count coup on those closest to her. A faceless entity couldn’t reflect a direct hit. Data’s gentle recriminations had always been able to restrain her; had she learned so little from him? Here she was accusing everyone of turning their backs on him, but she was acting as if he’d made no impression on her at all.

It was late, nearly 0100 hours. She knew he’d be asleep or nearly so, but she knew also that if she waited her worst impulses might overtake her again.

“O’Reilly to Captain Picard.”

“Picard here. What is it, Leo?”

His voice was laden with concern, not the edge of irritation she deserved. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, sir.”

“No bother. Computer, on visual.”

She was surprised to see the captain still fully dressed, albeit not in uniform, as sleepless as she had been. And she was grateful he’d called for visual, because left to her own devices she wouldn’t have had the guts to look him in the eye.

“Sir, regarding my response earlier…” to what? She couldn’t think of how to frame it sensibly.

“Not forgotten, perhaps, but understandable.”

“Yours, too.” Leo stared blankly for a moment, taking in his accepting expression. He always accepted her, just as she was, even when his better judgment told him not to. Nobody had ever needed to tell her that, though they did tell her. Or perhaps “reminded” was a more accurate word. Finally she blurted out, “Request permission to be considered the sorriest excuse for a well-adjusted adult who ever disgraced the uniform, sir.”

A weary smile barely pulled at his mouth. “Denied.”

“Okay. And about the other request you denied,”

“Twice, if I remember correctly.” He braced himself for a repetition.

“Well it was a stupid request," Leo admitted freely, "I don’t want out of the Enterprise, and I wouldn’t have had any work to continue, not with anyone, if I hadn’t been here first. Request permission to stay here doing whatever you see fit for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Granted.” The smile, still weary, took on a warmth familiar to both of them. “You have a position, and a home, here for as long as you wish.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said my assignment continues at your discretion?”

“My discretion, perhaps, but your wish. It has taken some time, but I believe the two have achieved a certain… synchronicity.”

She sighed. “Right as always. I’ll really try to be reasonable about all this… I can’t promise anything though. I guess I’m just not used to controlling my darker side on my own.” Before Picard could respond, she corrected herself. “I know. I’m not on my own. I’ll count on all of you to remind me of that if I forget.”

“Understood. Things will be a bit busy for the next few days…” Picard meant the memorial, the many friends and colleagues who would be arriving, their company simultaneously welcome and emotionally trying.

“I’ll be okay. How could I not be with everyone to help me?”

“Just the same… you know where to find me.”

“Always.”