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Troi Times Two
by: Marina Twelve

 

The message from Captian Jean-Luc Picard was short and clear. Shore leave on Urindu Five for the members of the crew had been canceled. All personnel were to gather with their respective groups for immediate transport back to the Enterprise.

Data was the first to report to the co-ordinates assigned for the transporter three party. He was soon joined by Geordi Laforge, Ships Councelor Deanna Troi, ensigns Chambers and Ruthledge, from engineering, and finally, Wesley Crusher, the 15-year-old son of the ship’s doctor, Beverly Crusher.

No one there knew why shore leave had been so abruptly canceled. They had been looking forward to yet another six hours of time away from the ship, But whatever the reason, it must be important. "Is everyone here?" asked Data as he counted heads. Being satisfied, he pressed and spoke into his com-badge. "Transporter three group ready for transport."

The group each felt the familiar tingle that indicated that the transporter had locked on and was beginning to energize. The world of Urindu Five seemed to dissolve before their eyes only to be replaced by the familiar interior of transporter room three.

Deanna Troi, however, immediately noticed that something was not right. A thrill of horror shot through her as she glanced at the person standing next to her and realized that she was looking into her own face. But she was not the only one who noticed something unusual in the initial two or three seconds after teleportation.

Wesley had felt his center of gravity shift a bit and had to make a conscious effort to re adjust his balance. It was something about Troi’s face, however that discerned him the most. She was looking at him as if he had grown a second head. She also seemed at least two inches taller. They were now practically eyeball to eyeball. "What’s wrong", he asked and was shocked by the unfamiliar voice that came out of his mouth.

Then he happened to look downward and caught a glimpse of his chest. He found himself starring down into what looked, for all the world, like Deanna’s Cleavage---But she was standing a foot away from him. "They" were pointed the wrong way! "What’s going on here!"

 

The transporter operator blinked his eyes, he thought that he had seen TWO Deanna Trois, and checked the readout on his screens. Yes, it was right, all six people had been transported up.

He looked again. His eyes were not playing tricks on him this time. His mouth dropped open in horror before he blurted out the terrifying words most feared by all space travelers. "Transporter accident!"

By now Wesley had noticed that he and Deanna were wearing identical uniforms, and judging from what he could see, were also filled with identical contents. He stared at his hands, which responded to his will, but didn’t look like his own at all. He examined the small, smooth palms and long fingernails. Deanna was looking at herself now also, making a quick inventory of her parts and, to her relief, was discovering that she was still "intact" and not some kind of floating, detached eye.

Everyone looked up in shock as the transport operator’s words began to register in their minds. Data, Deanna and the others, moved off the platform. Wesley had a little more difficulty walking and stepping down, but he managed to keep with the group. Everyone looked at each other, attempting to ascertain who didn’t make it. All eyes soon settled on Deanna and Wesley. There were now TWO Deanna Trois and no Wesley Crusher.

"Where’s Wesley?" someone shouted.

"Right here,. . . I think" said one of the Deannas, with a groggy voice and nervously raising her hand.

Data pushed the stunned transport operator aside and Called the Captain. "There has been an accident on transporter three".

The news stunned Picard. Any transporter accident was bad enough, but most of those on transport three were not only his crew, but his personal friends. "Have you called sick bay?!" Picard frantically shot back.

"Captain," Data’s cooly rational voice replied, " It appears that something has happened to Wesley Crusher."

Picard’s heart sank. Wesley could have been the son he never had. "What would he say to Beverly?" he thought. " I am on my way over there right now. How bad is it?"

"There do not appear to be any life threatening injuries, but it is still not entirely clear what has happened." Replied Data.

"Dr. Crusher!" Beverly’s com badge sounded. "Captain!" she responded.

The sickening visions of the now rare, but still not unheard of, transporter accidents swam through Beverly’s mind as Picard informed her that something had happened to her only son. She, personally had only witnessed one such event in her career, but had read about several others.

Most often, the bodies of the poor victims failed to achieve full consolidation. Even as much as a 97 percent physical integrity was fatal. The material shortfall, being evenly distributed over the entire body, left it a bleeding, sponge like, gelatinous blob. Sure, most modern systems now were equipped with a "back up" system that would use matter from other portions of the body, if needed, to integrate a viable "core". But sometimes even that would not only leave victims with missing limbs, but as often as not, missing heads or vital organs.

Then there were the cases where two people materialized on the same platform. These were even more gruesome. More often than not, the best situation was that the victim was simply "lost in transport"

Picard and Beverly, accompanied by her assistant, reached Transporter room three, at about the same time.

They were surprised, that instead of finding a body on the floor, there were TWO Deanna Trois looking at them.

"What the devil?!" exclaimed Picard.

"Here I am Mom!" said one of the Trois in a groggy sounding voice.

Beverly pulled out her tricorder, and approached the woman. "Is that you, Wesley?" she said as she began to scan "his" body.

"I think so," Wesley replied, "But what has happened to me?"

"I don’t know yet, honey, but we are going to find out. Hmmmm, The tricorder readings seem normal. Full physical integrity, no cell damage."

"I had best check you too, Deanna", said Beverly, as she pointed the medical instrument in the Counselor’s direction. "Since you seem to be involved in this too. Until we find out what is going on, we can’t take any chances."

Captain Picard spoke up. "Geordi, have this unit checked out thoroughly and try to get us some answers. Take it apart piece by piece if you have to. Let me and Dr. Crusher know immediately if you find anything."

"Aye Captain, will do"

"And another thing", said Picard as he addressed everyone present, "No word of what has happened here is to leave this room. Not until I OK it. Is that Clear?"

"Yes Captain!" Replied the crewmembers.

"You also check out OK, Deanna", said Beverly as she finished with the tricorder. "But I still want both of you to follow me to sick bay right now for a more thorough, full body microscan."

A few minutes later, Deanna was lying on the microscan table in sick bay as a beam of light scanned down her body. "Negative", declared Beverly, as she watched the readout screen. "You are perfectly healthy and your readings are normal." Troi seemed relieved to hear the news. Apparently she had not been affected at all by the accident. It was Wesley’s turn next. Both Beverly and Troi watched as the beam scanned Wesley. "Again negative", Said Beverly. "Let’s do a mental Scan" suggested Troi.

Beverly placed a band around Wesley’s forehead and switched on a nearby machine. A colorful pattern filled a display screen. "Amazing!" exclaimed Beverly. The brain wave configurations match those of Wesley’s exactly."

"So our Initial assumptions have been confirmed" Said Troi, "Wesley is alive and well mentally, but his physical body is a duplicate of my own"

"He seems to be taking it better than expected." Beverly remarked.

"Don’t be too sure". Troi replied. "He, er. . . SHE is still in shock and is very confused. She has not fully realized what has happened to herself."

Geordi suddenly appeared on the com screen. "Dr. Crusher, we think we know what happened."

 

"By all means, Geordi, please tell us." Replied Beverly.

"When the transporter de-materializes a body, it separates the "mental trace" from the physical reconstruction data and stores them in separate memory buffers. The mental and physical components are then re-unified when the bodies are reintegrated at the transport destination."

 

" Apparently the system sensed that some of Wesley’s physical data was lost from the buffer. This activated a backup routine that selected one of the other complete patterns from another buffer and used that pattern to construct a physical body for Wesley’s mental trace."

"But why did it choose Troi’s pattern?" Asked Beverly

"Troi’s physical MASS was closest to Wesley’s own. It is another built in safety subroutine. An excessive energy drain or damaging surge might occur if the mass differential between the two physical patterns are too high."

"So how do we put Wesley back into his own body?"

Geordi hesitated for a few seconds. "Dr. Crusher, Wesley is lucky to be alive. Were it not for the new software. . ."

"What are you saying, Geordi?"

"Wesley’s physical pattern had been degraded to the point of being useless for any kind of reintegration. For all practical purposes, Wesley’s original body no longer exists. The transporter gave him a new physical pattern and that is the one he has now."

"The change is permanent then?"

"Well, just as permanent as the body anyone else has been born with. Of course, a complete genetic reconstruction may be possible. That, as you should know, is a long, seven-year process."

"In theory we might also be able to alter a transporter system to give him another MALE body, although not his original, by means of duplicating what happened in the accident. It’s very risky though. The physical brain might not be able to mesh properly with his mental patterns."

"Yes", replied Troi, thoughtfully. "The flexibility of my half Betazoid-human brain is what perhaps allowed Wesley’s mental patterns to integrate with her new body."

"Do you think that she will be an empath like you, Deanna?"

"That’s doubtful. Although she now possesses the empathic organ, she does not have the mind patterns to access it."

Wesley was now breathing heavily. "His" lips were trembling. Wesley had heard all of what Geordi Leforge had said. "Oh God! Oh God!" "he" began to mutter.

A look of concern creased Troi’s brow. She helped Wesley sit up on the table and seated herself next to "his" trembling form. Beverly did not interfere. THIS was Troi’s job.

Wesley began to sob. Troi put her arm around "him" and let him bury his face on her shoulder.

Meanwhile, Captain Picard, having been briefed on the situation with Wesley, now turned his attention to other things. He held a meeting with his officers in his ready room and explained the reason that he had canceled shore leave.

" It seems that the interstellar rogue, thief and confidence man, known as Quentin Styles, had, before it could be replicated, stolen the prototype of a new serum that could be used to treat the Rigelian plague. The fatal disease is now threatening the populations of entire star systems in the Peladian district."

"Styles is holding the serum prototype for ransom, and as it would take too long to develop another prototype from scratch, the Federation Council has decided to concede to Styles’ demands. The Enterprise will deliver the key chip that would give Styles access to 200 billion credits from the Federation Treasury."

"Yes, the outflow of such funds would spark a financial crisis throughout the entire alpha quadrant, but there was no other choice. 200 billion credits or just as many lives."

"The Federation has also authorized the Enterprise to apprehend Styles himself, if at all possible, but not at the risk of jeopardizing the recovery of the serum. Retrieval of the serum will be tantamount to all else. Billions of people are in danger of dying."

"We have been directed to proceed to the outpost of Obyron Seven.", said Picard. "Once there, Styles will provide us with further instructions."

 

 

It had been about two hours since the accident. Wesley, by now had regained enough of "his" self-composure to begin to think about how he would deal with the situation he has found himself in. Oddly, he didn’t feel so bad about being a woman, as one would be inclined to believe. In the Twenty Fifth Century, society had changed to a degree that the status of "womanhood" carried no implications of "inferiority" or "lack of social status". The "proper woman" always possessed skills or abilities that more than compensated for any relative lack of physical prowess.

Wesley knew that. He also knew that he was now also, by his own standards, "extraordinarily beautiful", which was at least ONE for the "plus" column. Indeed he’d had a "crush" on Troi for years, but he was too shy to admit it. No doubt, being an empahth, she knew it too.

Wesley was most concerned about having lost his identity. He no longer was Wesley Crusher. He didn’t know WHO he was. Sure, he looked identical to Deanna Troi, but he definitely was NOT her, not inside anyway. He would have to build a new identity, a new self, but how could he do that when he looked like exactly like another person.

While Deanna could not actually read Wesley’s thoughts, she could feel his concerns and sense of being adrift. Her psychological training gave her further insight into his problem. "Do you like your clothes?" She asked, referring to the low cut, skintight jumpsuit Wesley was wearing, that was identical to her own.

Wesley thought about it. He didn’t want to insult Deanna, but he was honest anyway. "No, I feel too---Exposed", he said. "Can’t I wear one of my old outfits?"

Beverly gave Wesley a sympathetic look and said "Quite frankly Wesley, you will never get THAT shape into any of your clothes.

Deanna was ahead of the game. She walked over to the replicator and punched in some numbers. A grey jumpsuit materialized that in color and form closely resembled that which Wesley usually wore. Deanna presented it to Wesley.

"Here", she said "This is closer to your own style, but cut to my … YOUR physical dimensions."

Wesley took the suit and walked into the bathroom. Beverly started to follow, but Troi held her back.

"I thought I would help him." Said Beverly. "Honestly, he hasn’t got anything I haven’t already seen—especially now!"

Troi looked sympathetically at Dr. Crusher and calmly explained. "Wesley needs to be alone for this."

"OH GOD!" The exclamation was heard behind the closed bathroom door. Beverly looked concerned, but Deanna displayed only a "knowing smile".

Wesley spent what seemed an inordinate time in the bathroom. Beverly grew impatient. "Whats going on in there?" she wondered aloud.

 

"Trust me", Deanna replied, suppressing a smile, "you don’t want to know."

Dr. Crusher didn’t have to think very long about what Troi had said.

"Wesley, Have you finished changing clothes yet? Do you need any help?"

The door opened. Wesley now appeared in "his" more conservative outfit. The Jumpsuit did indeed look similar to what Beverly was used to seeing him wear, but it was definitely cut to accommodate the body of a woman. The neckline was a bit different, in deference to feminine fashion, but it was not low cut. The fit was somewhat looser too, not like a second skin, but not baggy either. The tailoring was neat and tasteful. Of course, "He" still looked like Troi, but wearing a different outfit.

"What’s with the makeup?" Wesley asked Troi. "I can’t seem to wash it off."

"I use cosmetic dyes," Deanna replied. "The beautician applied them just last week. They are good for at least two months."

"So there is not much more I can do to alter my appearance beyond THIS?"

"We will see what the beautician can do tomorrow, but for now you will have to get used to looking like my twin sister.

Wesley was left alone in his and Dr. Crusher’s quarters. Troi still thought that "he" needed time by himself. Beverly returned to her post in sick bay while Troi reported to the Captain’s office to brief him on the situation.

First Officer William Riker was also present. It made her a bit uncomfortable. It had been almost two years since they had dropped their commitments to each other, but she had noticed that recently, Will was incrementally attempting to re-establish some vestiges of their previous relationship.

After informing Captain Picard and Riker that Wesley was mentally and physically healthy and was so far adjusting to his situation, Picard filled her in on what she had missed at the meeting.

Picard could not hope noticing Troi’s shock of recognition when she was shown a picture of Styles on the display screen.

"Ohmygosh! Its Quint!" She gasped, confirming Picard’s suspicions.

"It appears, Counselor, that you are not entirely unfamiliar with the man."

Troi sheepishly glanced in Riker’s direction and turned back to the Captain. "It was a year ago on Aldebran Three. He seemed the most wonderful and charming man. I could tell that he was also genuinely attracted to me. We had spent only two days together, before he suddenly disappeared without a trace. He gave me no warning, no indication of. . . I feared something terrible might have happened to him. I haven’t seen him since."

She didn’t have to see the repressed glint of jealousy in Riker’s face. She could FEEL it. She did, however, manage to keep her composure.

"Wasn’t that about the time the "crown jewels" of the Aldebranan kingdom of Rosh also disappeared?" quipped Picard.

"Captian! You don’t think that I. . .!"

"Of course not. But he did have a short relationship with you. And it is your belief that his affection for you was genuine?"

"Captian, there are some races that can block Betazoid empathy, but none that can deceive it. He was genuinely interested in me, which made it all the more difficult when he went away."

Picard sat thoughtfully for a second, while Riker maintained a cool, sidelong glance in Deanna’s direction.

"This may be something we may be able to use to our advantage." Said the Captain. "Be sure to be present on the bridge, Counselor, when we receive our instructions at Obyron seven, fifty two hours from now."

As Riker left the ready room, Troi was on his heels. "How dare you, Richard!" she softly, but angrily spoke between clenched teeth. "You find out that I have a short fling with someone else over a year ago---and now you are jealous! Our own relationship had been over for months. I am sure that YOU certainly were no MONK. . ."

Riker sighed. He had said nothing. He had made no comments and tried to keep his emotions to himself. But Oh, the disadvantages of having a girlfriend, or worse, EX girlfriend that can read your true feelings.

 

 

Wesley, meanwhile had gotten tired of the confines of "his" room and needed a break from "familiarizing" herself with her new body. A visit to Ten Forward was in order. Perhaps sitting at a table and watching the stars zip by while sipping on a Terran Pineapple Aid would help "her" as Wesley was now thinking as "himself", to re-focus.

To her surprise, she found herself easily slip into the rhythm and gait of Troi’s feminine walk as she sauntered down the long corridor. "Yes, It did make sense", she thought. The patterns that control the finer details of walking are stored in the "memory" of the spinal cord. The mind only turns them on and off. Walking was ONE thing that she would not have to learn.

She sat down at Wesley’s regular table and stared through the transparent wall and into the depths of space. Before she could order her drink, a waiter came by and placed a bowl of chocolate ice cream, covered with dark chocolate syrup, in front of her. She started to correct the man’s error, but changed her mind. That DID look good!

Apparently, Troi’s fondness, or near addiction, to Chocolate was well known. Obviously, the waiter had thought she was Deanna, and had served her "her usual".

It certainly tasted better than any other chocolate ice cream that she had ever eaten before. "Is it true, that women’s taste buds are more sensitive," she wondered, "or is this more an effect of Betazoid biology?"

Wesley heard a familiar voice. She turned to see her 15-year-old friend "Laurie", accompanied by two of her female companions enter the room. They walked right past her. "Well, looking like someone else does have it’s advantages" she thought. Wesley felt relieved that she would not have to explain her present predicament to whom "he" considered "his" "girlfriend".

As She savored her ice cream, Wesley listened to the conversation of the girls who had seated themselves at the adjacent table.

"I heard Wesley Crusher was hurt in a transporter accident." Said one of the girls.

"His mother told me that he had to be taken to the hospital on Urindu five and was going to be sent back to Earth for treatment." Laurie answered.

Wesley mentally thanked her mother. Apparently she had provided a cover story that would make the situation here less complicated.

"Is he hurt bad?" the first girl asked.

Laurie looked sad. She did indeed care for Wesley. "Dr. Crusher said that he would live, but he would have a long, slow recovery."

"I heard something really crazy" said the third girl. "That the transporter had turned Wesley into Counselor Troi." The girls laughed. Even Laurie had to smile.

About that time the girl looked up and saw Wesley, at the next table, staring at her. "Er, oh. . . " Stammered the teenager. "Excuse me Counselor. . . you were there. Can you tell us what really happened?"

Wesley chose her words carefully, so that she would sound more like her "twin". " Don’t believe every thing you hear. Doctor Crusher’s account is the most accurate, girls. Wesley will live, but it might be a long time before we see him again."

 

The Young ladies moved on to other subjects and let Wesley finished her ice cream. She felt good that she had perhaps nipped a potentially embarrassing "rumor" in the bud.

"Well, how is the patient doing?" spoke a man’s voice that dispelled Wesley’s reverie. It was William Riker.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." Wesley replied. "The Captain told you, then."

"Well, as his first officer, I am supposed to be kept informed about what happens on board the ship. I might have to take command in an emergency."

"Can we still be friends?"

"Of course, Deanna. I can’t help it if I still have feelings for you."

"OH NO!" Wesley’s mind screamed. "He thinks that I am Troi!" Wesley had been misled by the first words of the conversation. She thought Riker knew that she was Wesley and was merely offering his support---- or condolences.

"Uh, . . . Yes, That’s understandable" answered Wesley, as she thought about how she would get out of THIS situation.

"I was hoping that you would feel the same way towards me." Riker continued.

"Uh, . . . Well I do, its just. . . uh"

"Can you give me another chance, Deanna?"

" Um. . . Meet me in my quarters at twenty hundred hours. We will talk about it then."

Wesley got up from the table and calmly walked out of the room. She wanted to RUN! But for Troi’s sake she would make a graceful exit. She turned back for a second to see what Riker was doing. Big mistake! He was still sitting at the table and now was smiling directly at her. She turned back and exited the large wooden doors.

Wesley’s mind was in turmoil. "Had she handled the situation with Riker properly? Or had she cruelly "led him on"? What would Troi think when Riker showed up at her door in two hours? Would she even be home? Then what would Riker think?"---What a mess!

If Wesley didn’t have enough to think about, a woman accosted her in the passageway. The lady was definitely upset about something. "The feelings and the urges were coming back. I don’t know for how much longer I can go on" the woman said, almost hysterically.

Wesley felt that she had walked in the middle of a conversation, She had no idea what the woman was talking about. After a few more pleadings, which made no sense to her, Wesley simply said "Lady, please leave me alone, I have my own problems to deal with now."

"You too Deanna?!" she finally said, breaking down into tears, and continued on her way down the passageway.

Wesley had a bad feeling about that too. She wasted no time getting back to her quarters.

Wesley was mentally exhausted. This, without doubt, had been the worse day of her life. Although it was only a little after six PM, She flopped down on the couch and fell fast asleep.

 

It was after ten PM when Wesley was awakened by voices. Her Mother and someone, who sounded like Deanna Troi, were engaged in serious conversation.

Wesley sat up and was greeted by the visage of a very ANGRY Counselor Troi. She had never seen Troi angry before. Wesley was used to seeing Deanna as a usually "passive" and somewhat "cheerful" individual, but she was by no means "cheerful" now. It was Frightening! Wesley’s mother did not look very happy either.

The excrement had definitely struck the rotary air circulation device, and was all over Wesley.

"Wait! It was an accident!" Pleaded Wesley. She knew what this was about, or at least had a very good idea. "Riker thought I was YOU!"

"And you LET him think it!?" responded Troi. She was practically breathing fire.

"No it wasn’t that way at all. I thought he knew who I really was. . . at first, but by the time I realized. . . I had to get away!

"By arranging dates on behalf of someone else?! That’s not the worst of it! Apparently you also had an encounter with one of my patients. Do you know she tried to kill herself! Fortunately, we found and stopped her before any damage was done. She then accused ME of betraying her."

"Is it my fault if other people think I am YOU?" Wesley angrily shouted back. "Think about it. I have NO Identity! And YOU have TWO!". Wesley’s statement seemed to short circuit Troi’s anger.

"You are right! I am sorry. I have never had experience with this sort of thing." Said Troi thoughtfully. "It’s time we make you a real person once again, and at the same time exorcise, from this ship, my trouble making dobleganger."

"Well", replied Wesley, "at least ‘Wesley’ can be used as both a man’s and woman’s name."

"Not so fast." Snapped Troi. "Wesley no longer exists, remember? I know you wont like it, but you will have to have a new name. And you will not be able to live with Beverly any more. You will move into MY quarters on deck ten."

"So you can keep an eye on me?"

"Yes, but only in part. People have to know that there is another person on board who resembles me in appearance. You will become my "sister", Ilissa, of the Betazed diplomatic staff."

"But you don’t have a sister, do you?"

"I DO,NOW, Ilissa Troi", replied Deanna.

"I will post a story on tomorrow’s news screen stating how the Betazed delegation has assigned my sister, one year my junior, to accompany me for a tour of duty on the Enterprise."

"Your mother’s story about how Wesley Crusher was injured by the transporter and has been sent away for treatment will be posted as a separate article in the same edition.--- Problems solved!"

 

 

It took litle time for Ilissa to move to Troi’s quarters. Replicators would provide all of her clothing, so, save for a few of Wesley’s "toys" which she packed in a small suitcase, she hardly had to bring anything else with her.

Fortunately, the Enterprise’s cabins were designed in such a way as to be able to be able to connect unused rooms in adjacent cabins by means of door panels. With the release of a couple of locks, Deanna was able to provide a separate bedroom for Ilissa.

Ilissa was given a sleeveless, short satin gown to sleep in. Her initial apprehension about changing clothes had eased up a bit. Before Deanna would let her go to bed she insisted that she give her long dark hair at least 200 strokes with the hairbrush. And THAT was just the beginning! Ilyssa was beginning to discover, that despite cosmetilogical advances, such as long lasting makeup, a woman’s body required a lot of routine maintenance.

The next morning, Ilissa took her shower and climbed into one of her more conservative jumpsuits. As she combed her hair, she had an idea. She combed her hair back and used the clip to form a long ponytail behind her neck. She liked it. Not only did it get her hair out of her way, It made her look even less like Deanna.

To Ilissa’s surprise, Deanna liked the look too, but she insisted in straightening the clip and combing the ponytail out a little more. "Not bad for a first try" she commented.

The face was still a problem though, but Deanna had an idea. She used a matching conventional lip coloring to reshape Ilissa’s lips. She painted the cupid bows of the upper lips to a fuller and wider curve and made the lower lip bigger. Ilissa no longer had the smallish, slightly puckered, "baby-doll" mouth that Deanna was currently wearing. Finally, Deanna added a thicker line of black eyeliner above Ilissa’s eyes.

Success! Ilissa still looked related to Deanna, but they were different enough in appearance now so that they would not be so easily confused. Ilissa thought that she looked a bit "overly made up", but until the dye makeup finally wore off, she would have to be happy with just being "different", despite what it took to do so.

Ilissa Began to feel better again too. She was now "her own person" and not some elses "body double". She was a discrete individual with her own name and her own presence. She felt like she was part of the human race again, although a different "runner", to be sure.

 

 

That evening, a "reception" was held in Ten Forward to welcome the arrival of Deanna’s Sister Ilissa. The entire crew was invited. Only Dr. Crusher, Riker and those involved with the transporter accident, however, knew of Ilissa Troi’s actual identity.

Most of the crew simply greeted the new passenger on the reception line, moved on to the food and returned to their quarters or workstations. A few circulated around however.

Beverly marveled at how the two Trois now appeared as definite individuals. Deanna, practically "on exhibit", in her low cut gown and highly animated, was definitely the "extrovert". Ilissa, on the other hand, was very subdued by contrast. Although she wore an "off the shoulder", floor length dress, She showed little, if any cleavage. Her hair hung down her back in a single, wide ponytail and not in an elaborate "do" like her "sister’s". Ilissa’s face was nearly expressionless, which when taken with the slightly overdone make up, seemed like a mask like barrier to the outside world.

Ilissa spoke only a little, and then only for the sake of politeness. "Yes", thought Beverly "There was no way anyone was going to confuse Ilissa with Deanna again."

Several of the women engaged Ilissa in conversation. She had practiced her cover story well, so there were no embarrassing "slip ups" there, but Ilissa quickly realized that She had NOTHING at all in common with adult women. They didn’t want to talk about computers or the latest music, but rather their children or the color of their bedroom walls. The conversations were short, but polite. More often than not, one of the ladies would seem a bit "put off" by Ilissa’s seeming lack of interest. She was obviously not making many friends.

 

Even worse, several men had indeed wanted to be VERY friendly. That really "Creeped her out" "Whoa!" "I don’t bend THAT way", she thought. Still, Ilissa managed to remain polite, but she could tell by the Guy’s disappointed and puzzled looks, that she would soon be considered in their circles as an "Ice Princess".

But when Laurie introduced herself, Ilissa fully realized her plight. Ilissa liked Laurie, even "loved" her, so far as her 15-year-old boy’s mind knew. But now they could no longer have a meaningful relationship. Indeed, she could no longer have a relationship or socialize with any of her friends or peers. A twenty-seven-year-old woman does not hang out with teenagers. And even if they knew about her, Ilissa knew they would still feel very uncomfortable.

Now she knew how Data must feel, or would feel if he had emotions. Ilissa, although technically human, would not be accepted as a part of anyone’s social circle. Perhaps her mother and Troi might be considered "friends", but they were, in one way or the other, FAMILY. Riker, Data and Geordi could also be considered a bit more than "just acquaintances", but were more like "mentors" rather than actual friends. Ilissa’s relationship with them, despite her new packaging would not change very much, though she feared that Riker was still a bit "pissed" from yesterdays incident.

Ilissa could now see the wisdom of Data’s creator in not giving the Android an "emotion chip". If Data felt like she did now. . .

"Yes, Data!" Ilissa thought. He like, herself was a "Unique Being", a creature forever condemned to always be an "outsider", despite his desire to be accepted as a human. Perhaps HE could give her some advice.

 

 

 

"Please Come in Ilissa." Said Data as he opened his door. "You wanted to talk with me?"

"Yes." Replied Ilissa, as she followed Data into his office and seated herself on a chair. "We share common problem that I thought that you may be able to help me with".

"And what is that?"

"We are both unique creatures, Data. We may both look like humans, but neither of us is capable of taking part in the full human experience."

"In my case, that may be true, Ilissa. I am a machine. You, on the other hand, are as much flesh and blood as any other human on this ship."

"Yes, I may be human, but I have found myself to be isolated from the rest of human society."

" I too, could consider myself isolated to a degree, but I do not feel isolated. Indeed, I do not feel at all."

"I am biologically twenty seven years of age," complained Ilissa," but my mind is that of a Fifteen year old. I cannot associate with either adults or those of my own Mental age."

"But you are a genius, Wes. . . Ilissa. Might that not partially make up for the age differential?"

"It isolates me even more. How do YOU handle it Data? You seem to be happy and satisfied with your life."

" I am neither happy nor satisfied, I just am. But if I might offer some insight, I have observed that, for the most part, human problems are the consequences of one’s not accepting things the way they are.

 

"Are you saying that we should not try to improve the quality of our lives? That we should ignore our problems and not try to fix things and make them better?"

"By no means, Ilissa. But we must first be able to tell the difference between what can be changed and what cannot.

"I am sure that you have walked in a forest. The trees are not a problem unless we INSIST upon taking a direct, straight-line route through the timber.

You know that you cannot walk through a tree, so you do not even try. If you simply walk around the trees that may be in your way. You have no problem. But imagine the poor fool who insists that he can indeed walk through a tree---Now That man has a problem."

"Yes, I see what you are saying. We must sometimes "alter our course" modify our desires to conform with unchangeable realities. We "walk around the trees" in our path and not waste our lives beating our heads against the bark".

"Yes," replied Data. "I am quite proud of that metaphor. I have found that metaphors and allegories are very good tools for expressing the complexities of human life in different ways."

"But how does it apply to us?"

"I know that I will never be completely human, so I do not let that reality become an obsession that takes my mind away from other things. I cannot become human, but I can, at least, learn all I can about humans and hopefully be considered a friend to some of them."

"You, like me, Ilissa, Must accept the fact that as long as you are what you are, there are limits to our worlds. The relationships that you desire to have with your fellow humans, are the trees in your forest. You must learn to walk around them and they will no longer be seen as problems."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Frankly, I do not know. The metaphor is a guide. You will have to decide that for yourself."

"Just Great!" Ilissa thought sarcastically. Data has gone ZEN on me.

But then it hit her! She had been thinking so much about her immediate problems, she had lost sight of her ultimate goal. To become Wesley again!

She would not concern herself with the "trees" in her way, she would walk around them, suffer the isolation, but pursue the objective. Find the end of the forest trail.

In this case it meant learning everything she could about transporters. Sure, Geordi and his team were good at working on them and understood the general principles, but Ilissa would have to delve into the complex internal programming of the devices, some of which was actually written by and understood only by computers. But Ilissa WAS a Genius! She knew that she would be able to unravel the mysteries. She didn’t know for sure that if in doing so she could get her original body back, but she was sure going to try.

" Thanks Data", She said. "I know what I must do now."

 

 

Worf, Troi, Riker, Data, Geordi and the Captain sat at the conference table in the briefing room. The Enterprise was in a high parking orbit around Obyron seven, a planet that supported an unmanned subspace communications relay station. The display screen that hung on the wall at the head of the table was blank. Styles’ message, if there was going to be one, was over fifteen minutes late.

Just as Worf, was reaching the end of his patience and was preparing to get out of his chair, The screen flickered to life. The smiling form of Quentin Styles replaced the static. The man looked youthful and hansom and exuded a charm and friendliness completely at odds with his reputation. He would be the last person one would suspect of effectively ransoming the lives of billion’s of people.

Ah, Captain Picard, I presume. And do is see, Oh can it be Deanna Troi?

"Yes, it’s me, Quin!" replied Troi cooly.

"Well how fortunate! The fates must be smiling on me."

"Get on with it Styles!" barked Picard. "The Federation has agreed to your terms.

"Yes Captain, you are right. Business does come before the more pleasant social matters. You are now to proceed to Monoceros Twelve . . .

"The Monocerian system is in the Romulan Neutral Zone. Federation ships are forbidden by treaty to enter there."

"That will be no problem, dear Captain, Monoceros twelve, the outermost planet, will be within transporter range from the Federation side for at least twenty hours after your arrival. I would also be most honored if the lovely Deanna Troi would deliver the transfer chip and perform the transaction. I assure you that she will be perfectly safe. "

Picard glanced in Troi’s direction. She nodded in the affirmative.

"Very well then" replied the Captain "You can expect our arrival in . . ." He turned to Data

"One hundred and forty two hours. That is 5.916 Terran days." Data replied.

"I look so forward to meeting you again Deanna. I assure you that my rather sudden and unannounced departure from Aldebran Three was beyond my control. You must have suffered as much as I did. I shall to try to make it up to you."

The Screen went blank. Picard asked Troi "Are you sure that you are up to this?"

"If I were not able to separate my personal feelings and concerns from my duties, then I could not be a Starfleet officer." Troi replied.

As the meeting was dismissed, Troi, to her chagrin, now noticed that Will Riker now was smiling.

"You were had, Deanna" Said Will. "I have to admit, he does have charm. Even I was starting to like the guy."

"The secret to his success, I suspect." Said Troi

"Admit it, Deanna, he played you like a Tylirean harp and is setting you up for an encore."

 

Riker’s comments only served to stiffen Troi’s resolve. Perhaps he was right. Even a love as genuine as she had sensed from Styles could still be used to manipulate. Deanna would not be distracted from her duty. She would be "Commander Troi" of Starfleet. She no longer would allow herself to be influenced by Styles in any way.

 

 

When Deanna, returned to her quarters, she found Ilissa, diligently working at her computer. Stacks of papers and schematics were scattered everywhere.

"So this is what you do in your spare time" commented Deianna, with a smile, to her "sister". " My condolences to your mother."

Ilissa Looked up from the display screen. "Did you know that the mark Five Standard Teleporter uses three memory buffers and a double back up for each passenger?"

"No I didn’t" Deana replied with an overly obvious feigned interest in the subject matter. "What are you doing?"

"As no one else seems to be able or willing to help me solve my problem, I am determined to do it myself," replied Ilissa. "Yes, I know it might take years, but I am determined to get my old body back. Already I have developed a program to translate the computer-generated code into human understandable terms. Soon I will be able to read the transporter software like a book."

"That is incredible, Ilissa!" said Deanna. "To my own knowledge, which is admittedly limited in these areas, I never heard of anyone being able to translate level three computer codes. At least not with Transporters."

"No one has felt the need to do it yet, Deanna. At least not as much as I feel the need to do so. And yes, it would take a genius to do that! Do not forget, THAT is what I am."

 

As the Enterprise neared the Monoceros star system Captain Jean-Luc Picard ordered the helm to stop just within the range of the passive long-range sensors.

"It is of utmost importance for us to see them before they can see us." He explained.

 

Data looked at the scanner display screen. "Monoceros Twelve is visible Captain. It is as Mr. Styles said. It will be within transport range from the Federation Boundary for twenty point three five one hours. There appears to be only one energy point source on the planet, which appears to be otherwise dead and barren."

"How many lifeforms do you read?"

Data looked closer and turned to the Captain "Only ONE sir. And a small concentration of living organic matter, quite possibly the serum."

"This is too easy" said Worf. "It has to be bait for a trap."

"It will not be easy at all." Data replied. The energy source, most likely Style’s base, is located several hundred meters beneath the planet’s surface. It is only accessible by means of a transporter. Multiple transient magnetic fields in the planet itself prevent us from locking on to him and beaming him out. I also suspect that he has installed an elaborate, automated security system around and within his compound."

Picard considered for a moment and then ordered the helm " Ahead one quarter impulse power." "Data, let me know immediately when the sensors can resolve the details of any of Styles’ security systems."

"I can see it Captain!"

Picard gave the order, "All stop!"

"On Screen" Said Data. A diagram of the sensor read out Appeared on the Bridge’s forward screen. It is apparently an integrated system of bio-sensors distributed throughout the complex. They are, in turn connected to powerful phaser turrets located at various strategic locations in each room area. If anyone should beam into the compound without his permission, the phasers would vaporize them within seconds."

"Why is Styles not vaporized then?" asked Worf.

"The sensors are apparently programmed to respond only to those life forms that do not match his own. It is not unlike the immune response with the humanoid body. It ignores it’s own tissue while destroying any foreign organisms."

"Then how is Troi going to get in to pay Stiles retrieve the serum?" asked Picard.

"We do not know if he intends to carry out the transaction in his compound. We have not received his instructions yet. He might arrange another meeting place altogether.

"But if he does insist that Troi meet him there, It would indicate that the security system is somewhat more flexible than we first might have assumed. He might can program the system to allow another or several other persons access to the facility."

"What if something goes wrong?" asked the Captain. "Can we beam Troi Back?"

"As she will be wearing her com badge, she will be easy to lock on to, despite the magnetic fields that put Styles out of our reach."

Captain Picard called Deanna Troi and Geordi Laforge to the bridge.

They soon arrived. The Captian had Geordy examine Data’s readings for further insights, while Troi would be briefed on what was found.

"Quite ingenious." Remarked Laforge. " It appears that the system can be programmed to ignore the biological readings of any DNA pattern entered into it. But it is further backed up by his own transporter system memory that not only stores the DNA pattern but the entire physical trace as well."

"Is that good?" Asked Picard.

"No it isn’t. Not only must the DNA of the organism match the sensor override exactly, but the organism must also match the exact same physical trace as stored in his transport buffer. Any attempt to fool the system by using clones or identical twins would not work. Even people with the same DNA still have small differences, as in Hair follicle count and different fingerprints. Mr. Styles has complete control over his invitation list".

"Could we program other patterns into his transport buffer system, say Worf’s for example, and then beam him down to arrest Styles?"

"That might be possible. In theory, anyway." Laforge replied, "but I don’t know of anyone within 10 parsecs who might be able to do it".

"I know someone who might!" Said Deanna.

 

Ilissa examined the diagrams displayed on the bridge forward screen. Meanwhile Geordi was looking over a reams of folded printout sheets. "Amazing! I can’t believe that you have done it!," exclaimed Geordi in astonishment.

"You’ve always known that I was a genius, Geordi" Replied Ilissa.

"But this is Third generation computer created code. It describes subroutines at the sub molecular level. Humans don’t even bother to read this stuff, even if they could."

"I’ve been working on it for five days. It was simple really, I programmed a computer to read that which was written by a computer. Translating it into something that a person could read was the real innovation".

"What is your assessment of our proposal, Ilissa?" The Captain asked.

"Even if I could insert another physical trace into Style’s buffer, I am afraid that it would not work. Look, His transporter is based on a type used in our own shuttlecraft. It cannot hold more than two physical patterns at a time."

"Yes with both Troi’s and Styles’ patterns loaded into it, there would be room for no more." Picard commented. "He also likes to keep his guest list very short".

"There is one more thing that might be of interest." Ilissa continued. "The locks on all of the doors and vaults operate on the same system. Anyone who is safe from the bio sensor defense also holds all of Styles’ keys. The memory buffers are too small to allow isolation of separate physical traces."

"Yes," Said Geordi thoughtfully. "If Troi gets inside she might be able to steal the serum from its vault and beam out of there without paying the ransom."

"But you are forgetting something," said Troi. "He will be with me at all times, Just like a mother hen. I doubt if I will have a chance."

Geordi looked crestfallen, but only for a second. His face suddenly "lit up". "Ilissa, come over here a second"

Geordi Took out a pen, smeared black ink across the tip of Ilissa’s right index finger, and pressed it to one of the pages draped across the weapons console. He did the same thing with Troi. The prints were identical, even down to the fine scratches.

"But we have determined that the security system could determine the differences between even identical twins or clones." Protested the Captain.

"That’s the beauty of it sir." Geordi replied. "Ilissa and Deanna are not twins or clones at all. They are physically the same person. They both have absolutely identical physical traces, down to the molecular level."

 

Picard called Dr. Crusher to the Bridge. When she arrived, the Captain directed her, Troi, Ilissa and Geordi, to the ready room. "I’ve brought you here Beverly , because I think that Ilissa’s mother, you should have input into some of this."

The Captain explained that they were considering sending Ilissa into Styles’ base to retrieve the serum, while he was conducting business and being otherwise distracted by Deanna.

Yes, it was dangerous. No one was completely sure that the bio sensor security system would ignore Ilissa, even though her physical configuration was identical to Troi’s. "Although we really don’t think that the device is THAT sensitive, one molecule that may be somehow out of place might prove fatal." In any event, Ilissa would be risking her life to save BILLIONS of others.

"Do you really want to do this, Ilissa?" Asked Beverly.

"I DO think that it is worth the risk, mom, no matter what happens to me."

Beverly bit her lip and grasped her child’s hand

Geordi spoke next. "We could also arm Ilissa with a phaser and get the drop on the guy, arrest him and end his party for good."

"Arm a fifteen-year-old with a phaser?!" exclaimed Beverly, "Are you Insane! Ilissa has no weapons training, and despite her appearance, she is still only a child. That is a job for a Starfleet officer."

"No, Geordi", the Captian replied "arming Ilissa is out of the question." The only Starfleet officer who could get in and do that would be Troi herself, whom we expect to be otherwise occupied. I doubt seriously that Styles would let her carry a weapon into his compound."

"Wait a minute", interrupted Deanna. "Who says that I have to be the one to distract Styles? Why not send Ilissa to Quentin in MY place? Let HER bring him the access chip. If she could fool someone like Will, who has known me for years, she could certainly deceive a three day acquaintance like Quint."

"It would certainly be safer for Ilissa", Deanna continued, "As the bio sensors would be set to her pattern to begin with. It is I who should be taking the big risks. If I make it inside, then Geordi’s idea will work. We will be able to shut down Quentin Style’s operation once and for all."

Picard thought the idea was a good one. He visually polled the room. The faces of the others showed that they agreeed. "OK then," he said, "We will brief Ilissa as to what is going on and show her the recording of Styles’ last message."

Walking back to the Bridge, Picard ordered "Ahead, full impulse power! Inform me when we have reached the Federation Limit. Do not cross into Romulan territory."

"Aye sir!" Replied the ensign at the helm.

In thirty minutes the Enterprise was parked within transporter range of Quinten Styles’ Base on Monoceros Twelve. Deanna and Ilissa had changed into the identical jumpsuits that they had worn when the accident had first occurred. Not only their bodies, but their clothing too, needed to possess the same physical patterns also. Ilissa also had removed the extra makeup that helped differentiate her from Deanna and had he hair restyled once again like that of her "sister". The two women were again identical in appearance. The effect was "jarring" even to the knowledgeable onlookers.

Ilissa, by now, had seen Quinten’s video and knew what she would be dealing with. She joined the other officers on the bridge to await Styles’ instructions. Deanna would watch the screen in the ready room, with the out-going video turned off, of course. She did not want Styles’ to be seeing double, not yet at least.

"We are being hailed", said the Ensign at the Helm.

"On screen" ordered Picard.

The smiling visage of Quentin Styles filled the forward Bridge screen.

"Ah Captain! God to see you again. Are we prepared to do business?"

"What are your instructions, Styles?"

"Hello Deanna! I trust that you have the transfer chip with you? And the proper access codes?"

Ilissa looked at the Captain and then at Style’s on the screen. "As you have requested" she replied.

"There is no need to take such a formal tone, Deanna." Quentin chided, "We are all friends here"

"Oh Captain, I am sure that you have thoroughly probed all of my defenses by now, and you must know that I am well protected. The Phaser turrets are quite powerful, you know. Even your Klingon friend would not be able to carry enough body armor to withstand their force."

"One thing puzzles me though" said Picard. "You seem to be alone. I would think that a person in your business would be at the head of an organization of many confederates."

"I indeed DO work alone. A wise man, Benjamin Franklin, I think, once said that "three men can keep a secret if the other two are dead". That is why I have been able to elude capture for all these years. But enough chit chat. Please ask Deanna to stand in front of the screen. It will be necessary for me to beam her down myself."

Picard walked over the screen himself and leaned close to the camera. "Let’s get one thing straight Styles", growled Picard. "Deanna is not only one of my crew, she is also a dear friend. Should anything happen to her while in your presence or as a result of your actions, I WILL be coming for you! The Romulans or anyone else be damned! I will chase you to the ends of the galaxy and beyond if need be and I WILL destroy you!"

The Captian’s uncharacteristic remarks visibly shook Styles. Indeed everyone who had heard Picard could tell that he meant every word. Styles was on notice that he had best keep his own end of the bargain too.

"Please do not worry about your friend," replied Styles after a slight pause. "I will let her keep her com badge, so you will be free to beam her up an any time. The worst that could happen is that she would return empty handed, but even that will not happen provided the transfer of funds takes place."

Picard sat back down in his chair and gestured to Ilissa. She took her place in front of the screen as requested. Suddenly, she dissolved into a flash of sparkling lights as Styles’ Transport engaged.

 

Ilissa found herself standing on a small transporter platform in Quentin’s underground lair. His smiling form greeted her. He took her hand and helped her down to the floor.

"Ah Deanna, at last we are together again. Come follow me."

He led her into an adjacent room where he had a table stacked with all sorts of expensive and exotic food and drinks. In the midst of the bounty was an elaborate, candle lit setting for two.

"What’s this?" Asked Ilissa, I thought we. . .

"Consider it a partial repayment of my debt to you"

Ilissa then noticed, in the shadows, the fancy bed, piled with colorful pillows, that dominated the opposite side of the room. "Horrors!" There was no doubt in Ilissa’s mind what Quentin’s plans included. She prayed that Troi would get here in time to rescue her.

"You seem too shy, too reserved", Quentin commented. "You are not quite the woman I left on Aldebran three"

"Yes, but that was before I learned about what you do for a living."

"Ah, THAT," replied Quentin. ""If it is any comfort to you, I will have you know that this will be may last endeavor into such matters."

"That certainly makes sense. As the wealthiest individual in the quadrant, or perhaps the entire Galaxy, you would not need to hold people’s lives for ransom any more."

"Let us reserve the moral commentary for later, my dear. Our dinner awaits."

"But do you not say that business comes before the more pleasant social matters? I have the transfer chip, do you have your download module?"

"Ah Yes, We must attend to our financial matters first."

Quentin led Ilissa to a desk, upon which rested a small black box with a small keypad and numeric display on it. "It’s a shame that the Federation no longer uses money. The transaction would have been a lot simpler." He lamented.

Ilissa inserted the transfer chip into the slot on the top of the box. Quentin then plugged his download module chip onto the exposed upper edge of the transfer chip. Ilissa then punched in the codes that she had memorized from Troi’s instructions.

They both watched the green numerals light up on the readout. The quantity increased until it reached 200 Billion, at which point the machine beeped. Quentin then removed the download chip and handed it to a surprised Ilissa. "How does it feel to hold 200 billion Federation Credits?" He asked. Ilissa started to hand it back to him.

"No, hold on to it," Quentin insisted. "And don’t forget to remove your own transfer chip. Never let it be said that Quentin Styles’ is a dishonest man. You keep that until I give you the serum canister."

Quentin began to walk back to the table.

"No Ilissa said. "Not until we finish the transaction"

Ilissa knew that she was only delaying the inevitable. "Where WAS Troi?" her mind screamed. If Deanna had got zapped, surely she would have heard a discharge from one of the powerful weapons. Perhaps they decided that sending Troi in was not worth the risk?

"You are quite the serious sort today aren’t you, " complained Quentin. "Alright then, this way."

They walked into a large empty room and over to a heavy metal door panel set into the wall. Quentin placed his hand over a shinny metal disk set into the door itself and the thick panel swung open.

Quentin walked in and Ilissa followed. To his surprise he was greeted by Deanna Troi, who was holding the serum canister in one hand and a phaser in the other. The Phaser was pointed directly at Quentin’s head.

For several seconds Quentin was unable to move. Deanna handed the canister over to Ilissa. The man literally WAS dumbfounded. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t seem to find any words.

"W… W… What?? This is impossible!" He finally managed to stammer when the brunt of the initial shock wore off. He stared at he phaser. "Deanna? Surely you would not use that on me? W… Would you?"

"How do you know if I even AM Deanna?" She said with a sly smile.

He turned to look at Ilissa, who also wore a similar expression. That was it for Quentin. It was as if his mind had suddenly ceased to function. " Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that" said Deanna to herself.

She took out a spare com-badge, and with her free hand loosely pinned it to his chest. "Three to beam up" Said Deanna as she clicked on her own com-badge. All three vanished into a mist of sparkling lights.

When they materialized inside transporter room two, Worf and three of his security men were waiting to take Quentin off their hands. The poor man was so confused, that he put up no resistance. All he could do as they led him to the brig, was mutter, repeatedly, "How? How?. . ."

Deanna and Ilissa proceeded directly to the Captain’s Ready room for debriefing. As Ilissa was describing, in detail, for the report, the principles of how Styles’ security system was tied into a shuttle transporter, she hesitated. A light went on in her head. "The shuttle craft!" she nearly shouted, startling Picard and the others who were sitting in at the meeting.

"Captian! Please tell me that the shuttle craft haven’t been used since the expedition on Alpha Centuri seven."

Picard, unaware of the reason’s for Ilissa’s exuberant eruption, was perturbed. "Of course not. We have had no reason to use them since then. What does this have to do with. . . ?"

Picard had never seen Ilissa, or even Wesley, for that matter, so elated.

Ilissa, on the other hand, felt like kissing the Captain. She hesitated for an instant, but then figured "what the heck? She WAS a girl." She "smooched" Picard, a "big wet one" on the cheek and ran for the door.

The jaws of those present nearly dropped on the conference table. Picard rapidly recovered from the shock and called out "Ilissa! come back in here on the double! That is an order!"

Now Picard was angry. "What is the meaning of this outburst, this inappropriate behavior?!"

"Don’t you understand Captain!" Said Ilissa, "Data and I were the last ones to use the transporter on shuttle two! That means that my original physical trace may still be stored in the buffer. I may have found a way to become myself again after all!"

Indeed, now Picard and the others understood Ilyssa’s reasons for being so excited. Picard, did insist that she finish the debriefing session before following up on her idea, however.

Immediately, after the meeting, Ilissa ran to the shuttle bay and brought Laforge along with her. They opened the transporter access on shuttle two and checked the buffers. The first buffer was found to hold Data’s "physical trace". The second also seemed to contain an intact "physical trace". It was Wesley’s own!

With the Captian’s permission, Ilissa was able to download it into one of the reserve buffers in transporter one. NOW she had something to work with.

Troi watched Ilissa work all night on her computer, mapping and tracing the complex interconnections that could re-unite Ilissa/Wesley’s present "mental trace" with the recovered Physical trace of Wesley Cursher.

The software to do so took two more days. Ilissa explained to Geordi how it would work. Ilyssa would do a short, on-board teleport as normal. But when she was reconstructed several feet away, The "Deanna Troi" Physical trace would delete itself from the buffer, forcing the device to substiute the Wesley Crusher trace instead. There would be no mental compatibility problem, as the configuration of the mental/physical interface had been confirmed.

If this worked, then Wesley Crusher would become himself again, both mentally AND physically.

Geordi saw a problem, however. "There is a ten point three five Kilogram positive mass difference between Deana’s and Wesley’s bodies. It made little difference when the shift was from Wesley’s larger body to Deanna’s physical pattern, as the excess mass was converted directly to energy, and vented out to space by the system. Putting IN the energy needed to make up for an increase of mass would not be so easily done, however. Mr. Einstein’s formula E=Mc^2 said it all. The energy needed to produce 10.35 Kilograms of mass would be nearly one trillion megajoules!"

"Closer to 900 billion," Said Ilissa, correcting Geordi.

"Yes, still, only the warp engines can provide that much power."

"That is where you come In, Geordi". Ilissa replied.

"Oh, no, Ilissa, this is your project, YOU go ask the Captian if you can borrow his warp engines for an experiment that might very well kill you."

"If he gives me permission will you help me then?"

"IF he gives you permission? Sure, If he gives you permission. But you don’t actually think. . ."

 

Picard welcomed Ilissa into his office. Well, Ilissa, how is your project going?

"That’s what I wanted to talk to you about sir. It seems that the energy requirements will be a bit high."

"How high?"

"We will need to draw power from the warp engines sir."

"Certianly not, that is out of the question."

"Why not sir? It will only be for a few minutes. And Geordi has promised to help me if you give me permission to do so."

"How much energy will you need?"

"Just over 900 terajoules. . ."

 

"My God!, Ilissa, What are you trying to do!"

"I need to make up the energy equivalent of 10.35 kilograms of mass."

"Why don’t you simply gain the extra weight?, your mother could put you on a diet. . ."

"That won’t work. It will take too long. My physical trace is several months old already. It will begin to degrade soon. It’s now or never for me! Otherwise I will be stuck being Ilissa, perhaps for the rest of my life."

"Such a power drain could blow several energy conduits and even ruin the engines. Do you realize how much that would cost to repair!"

"Certainly not more than 200 billion Federation Credits, and certainly not more than that many lives. The Federation owes me BIG TIME! Considering what I helped them do—and also considering what their defective transporter equipment has done to ME!"

Picard sat back in his chair and sighed. Ilissa certainly had a point. A warp engine, indeed a whole new starship, would mean nothing in comparison to what Ilissa and Troi had saved for the Federation.

"Alright then. I will let you do it. I only hope you realize what kind of risk I am taking with my own career, should you fail."

 

Geordi was astounded at the news. But he had promised to help Ilissa, and so he did.

"The biggest problem we have, is that there is no conduit on board that can handle such an energy load." He said. We will have to run several lines into the transporter room and tie them together at the console."

"The other thing that we must do is to arrange an automatic switch that will only apply the energy to the machine when the reconstruction requires it. If the energy is input too soon, it will destroy the entire transporter itself, and you along with it. Too late and you will fail to materialize."

Ilissa understood the risk. The switch was installed and the cables were run in less than 12 hours.

Ilissa installed the special software that she hoped would make her Wesley Crusher once again.

Finally, she went to see her mother in sick bay. Deanna Troi was there too. "Well mom, I’m going to try it." She said.

"You don’t have to do this for me" Beverly replied, "I love you, Ilissa, just as much as I did Wesley.

"I’m not doing this for you mother, I’m doing it for myself.

"But why risk your life, Ilissa?" Interrupted Deanna. "Life as a woman is just as good as life as a man."

"It’s not a male, female thing. Wesley is who I AM. . . .And I’m Fifteen years old, not Twenty Seven. I have the chance to become myself once again and I have decided to take it. Besides, if I don’t come back you can ask any survivors of the Rigelian Plague if Wesley Crusher’s short life was well spent."

Beverly Crusher Felt tears well up in her eyes as Ilissa walked down the passageway to Transporter room one.

In a comforting embrace, Councilor Deanna took Ilissa’s mother into her arms. This time they needed each other’s emotional support.

 

Ilissa Met Geordi in the Transporter room. Everything was ready to go.

"Now Ilissa, I am going to activate the transporter and get out of here. I don’t want to be anywhere around these consoles when the energy is switched on."

"Lets DO it!" Said Ilissa.

Geordi made one final check of the controls and looked at Ilissa standing on the platform. She glanced back at him with a look of determination in her eyes.

She said only one word. "Energize!"

Geordi pressed the lever and Ilissa began to disolve. The console began to hum. The hum became louder, the cables began to glow. Geordi decided that it was time to get out of there NOW! He ran for the door.

Captain Picard saw the lights flicker in his office. He knew that Ilissa’s bid to regain her idinity had begun.

Geordi checked his timer. Something was wrong! The console was beginning to smoke. Sparks were arcing across the room. The Switch to the energy lines had hung up!

While shielding his vision with his hand, he saw a wrench that the technician had left on the floor.

In one motion, he picked it up and swung it at the throw bar on the supposedly automatic switch. Again, hot sparks this time, burned Geordi’s hand, but the switch had engaged! But was it too late?

To his astonishment and relief, the console absorbed the energy flow.

A body appeared, lying on the platform. It was Wesley Crusher! "Call sick bay!" He shouted and rushed towards the crumpled form.

The "body" moaned and sat upright. He was alive! Geordi could see a few burns on Wesley’s Jumpsuit, but otherwise he looked alright.

"Geordi?" Wesley moaned, "Is that you? Did we do it? Am I ME again?"

Welsey looked down at his hands and began to laugh for joy.

"You did it pal!" Said Geordi as he helped Wesley back to his feet.

Dr. Crusher rushed in with her tricorder and smiled with relief as the readings came back all positive.

Troi, who had come along with the medical team was also smiling. "You know, I am going to miss Ilissa." She said.

Wesley turned to her and said. " Ilissa is still here Deanna, only now she in my head. It was an interesting ride."

 

Captians log: Stardate SD 48622.1

Wesley Crusher, son of Ship’s Doctor Beverly Crusher has entirely recovered from all affects of the transporter accident at Urindu Five. His methods and contributions to transporter technology have been duly noted and are at present being studied by Federation Technicians. I am also recommending Mr. Crusher, along with Commander Deanna Troi for a special commendation in their help in the capture of Quentin Styles and the recovery of the Plague Serum prototype and the Federation Funds.

 

 

 

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