A Time to Sow

by Dayton Ward

  Worf smiled at that as his gaze moved to the corner of his desk and to the small leather-bound book he had deliberately placed there. A gift from Picard, it was a reproduction of an ancient Earth text, The Art of War.

  He had read the book while a student at Starfleet Academy, of course. However, it was not until revisiting it, this time benefiting from many more years of experience, that he realized the volume’s multilayered message and just how appropriate a gift his former captain had offered. Despite the book’s obvious title, the words of wisdom recorded by the human warrior Sun Tzu centuries ago were not only a timeless guide for battle, but were also applicable to a great many other situations, including politics.

  There was yet one more message carried within the pages of the book, Worf realized, one even Picard had not anticipated when he had sent it: No matter how long this “game” went on between him and Starfleet, Worf was certain that his former captain would emerge victorious.

  While he knew that Picard would appear confident in any public setting, a pillar of strength to those who looked to him for leadership, what toll would this struggle exact on the man himself? How would it affect him during those moments of solitude he cherished? Though Worf was concerned for his former captain’s well-being, both physical and mental, he knew that if asked directly, even in a private conversation, Picard would almost certainly conceal his true feelings.

  To obtain the information he sought, Worf decided he would have to go about getting it another way.

  Chapter Six

  DROPPING THE PADD onto his desk, Geordi La Forge closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, groaning in satisfaction at the momentary relief the action brought. Though his eyes might be artificial, the muscles and nerve endings that received the information supplied by his ocular implants were still nothing but good old-fashioned human tissue, and they were tired.

  With days of open space ahead of them and hours of idle time likely to result, La Forge had already begun to straddle the fine line between giving his engineering crew purposeful tasks and loading them up with busy-work. His first impulse as chief engineer was to take advantage of the long haul to the Dokaalan system by putting the Sovereign-class ship through a stem-to-stern regimen of diagnostics and system tests. It would be a lot of work, but La Forge had good reason for it.

  Even now, three years after the end of the DominionWar, Starfleet’s ship-maintenance facilities were still laboring to alleviate the backlog of service and repair requests. The fleet was struggling to return as many ships to active duty as they could in the shortest amount of time possible, so routine and noncritical tasks were being deferred. Engineering staffs aboard many ships, particularly those with limited access to such facilities in the first place due to their current assignments, were taking matters into their own hands. Already formidable technical skills were being enhanced through impromptu on-the-job training as they took on some of the more complex tasks usually performed at drydocks and starbases.

  Knowing that the Enterprise probably would be out of touch with the level of Starfleet support it had enjoyed in recent years, La Forge and the rest of the department heads had taken care to insure that the ship’s stores were fully stocked with all manner of spare equipment and replacement parts to maintain the myriad onboard systems. For the engineering section, this included a few bulkier components not usually carried aboard ship, as well as replacements for items normally diagnosed and repaired only at a drydock facility.

  He also knew that their lengthy journey would be just the opportunity to experiment with increasing the graviton loads of the deflector shield generators, or perhaps to replace that pair of power couplings in the impulse propulsion system on which he was keeping watch, and those were just off the top of his head. Even with Captain Picard’s desire for the senior staff to afford the crew as much recreational time as possible during the voyage, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to see to his project list and still allow his people some time for rest and relaxation. That in itself would be a welcome change for a ship that typically saw little inactivity.

  Not for the first time, La Forge observed just how fortunate he was to lead the complement of engineers assigned to the Enterprise. One of the many benefits of serving on the Federation flagship was that, sooner or later, the best and brightest of Starfleet’s engineering minds ended up here. He thought of Reg Barclay, who served on two incarnations of the starship before becoming a key player on Project Pathfinder and aiding the U.S.S. Voyager in its return from the Delta Quadrant. And there was Sonya Gomez, who began her career on the Enterprise as an unsure ensign and now served as a highly capable commander aboard one of the ships assigned to the elite Starfleet Corps of Engineers.

  His mental list went on until La Forge paused at the realization that, in the eyes of many, the Enterprise might no longer be the destination of choice for the most talented personnel in Starfleet. There was also the distinct possibility that some members of his current engineering crew might start to explore better opportunities for themselves elsewhere. After all, there was little to hone one’s skill set in missions like this one.

  I don’t want to lose good people simply because there isn’t enough to keep them here anymore.

  It would require an extra effort from him to make sure that his engineers’ sense of purpose was maintained. Simply keeping them occupied at their duty stations would not be enough. Lieutenant Vale’s idea of running security drills, which would include diagnostic tests of the ship’s defensive systems, dovetailed nicely with his own agenda.

  With a plan for success already in action, La Forge had also reminded himself that part of the equation was to see to it that his people also set aside less pressing matters and spent some time on more frivolous pursuits.

  And that includes me, he mused as he left his office and made his way from the engineering levels to the upper decks of the saucer section, heading for officers’ quarters. Walking the corridors, he was comforted by the steady rhythm of the Enterprise’s warp drive as the vessel powered toward the Dokaalan system. It was the smooth, strong sound of a well-maintained ship, he knew. Most people eventually learned to tune out the omnipresent thrum of the engines, but La Forge always listened for it, knowing that it would often provide the first clue as to a problem in the heart of his beloved ship.

  Finally, he came to one particular door, hoping even as he reached for the call button that his leisure plans also included the person he had come to see.

  “Come in, please.” Data’s voice filtered through the panel positioned next to the door. As La Forge stepped into his friend’s quarters, he realized that almost all of the lights in the room had been extinguished. The only signs of activity came from the android himself, seated before the extensive computer station that dominated the room’s right wall. Looking up at the engineer’s approach, Data said, “Hello, Geordi.”

  La Forge smiled as he moved farther into the room. “What are you working on?”

  “I have been studying the information contained on the two Dokaalan probes, as well as the reports compiled by the Vulcan Science Directorate in 2151. While neither the Vulcans nor Starfleet specialists were able to determine their exact point of origin, there are clues within the probes’ recorded messages that may help us narrow our search parameters once we arrive in the Dokaalan sector of space.”

  Taking a seat in the other chair positioned near the workstation, La Forge admitted to himself that his interest was piqued. “Really?”

  “I have been analyzing the visual transmission by the Dokaalan leader,” the android continued, gesturing to an image from the centuries-old transmission frozen on one display monitor. “Notice the color of the sun and the orange hue of the sky behind First Minister Zahanzei. This suggests that their planet orbited a star of the spectral class K-1. Given that, the size of the star in relation to the planet suggests an orbital path within the ecosphere of a typical K-1 star as I have plotted here.” Tapping a command string into his console, Dat
a called up a tactical display that showed a haze around an orange point of light against a grid demarcating dozens of light-years.

  La Forge nodded approvingly. “That seems like the place to start looking, then.” It would be simple for Data to take the information he had gathered here and correlate it with the star charts and other navigational aids stored in the main computer. He would be able to determine if this star system was the former home of the Dokaalan long before the Enterprise arrived there.

  Data said, “I have also cross-referenced the visible characteristics of the Dokaalan race with all available information from Starfleet Medical biological files. Based on the first minister’s epidermal coloration, facial physiognomy, and overall structure, he physically resembles fourteen distinct races known to the Federation.”

  Confused at this, La Forge said, “That’s interesting, Data, but I’m not sure where you’re going with it.”

  “I accessed all available geophysical information on the planets to which those races are native,” the android replied as he keyed the console again, and La Forge watched one monitor begin to scroll columns of data faster than he could read it. For a moment he mused that the effect would be dizzying—if he had real eyes.

  “As common environments lead to common species development,” Data continued, “I have compiled a list of naturally occurring elements on those known planets as well as their percentages of concentration. Assuming the Vulcans were correct when they reached their original conclusion that Dokaal indeed exploded due to prolonged tectonic stress, programming our sensors to detect such elements should help us locate planetary debris.”

  “Um, okay,” La Forge said, starting to wonder just how much time Data had devoted to this research exercise. “That’s not a bad theory, but…”

  Entering yet another string of commands, Data called up a new image to one of the display monitors. “And here, I have created a mathematical construct of the planet’s geothermal explosion, starting with the mass of a typical Class-M planet. Such destruction is likely to have exerted enough force to propel fragments of the planet in this manner.”

  “Uh, Data?”

  Focused on his report, Data continued, “Lack of surveys in this region prevents us from accounting completely for any gravitational effects of surrounding stars or planetary bodies. It does, however, give me reason to believe that fragments of the planet could be encountered as soon as…”

  “Data!”

  The android halted and turned to face him. “Yes, Geordi?”

  La Forge took one look at his friend’s somewhat quizzical expression and laughed a bit. “Data, this is all very helpful, but did Captain Picard ask you to put it together?”

  “The captain tasked me with tightening the focus of our search in an attempt to determine the probe’s origin point within the shortest amount of time,” Data replied.

  “He was not specific with the details of his request, so I have exercised my own initiative in order to provide the most comprehensive investigation possible.”

  Smiling, the chief engineer put a hand on Data’s shoulder. “Data, I know you love doing this kind of thing, but when the captain said he wanted the crew to take some time off during the trip, he meant you, too. I think you’ve accomplished enough for one day, so what do you say about finding something relaxing to do?”

  “I do not understand,” the android replied. “You said this information would prove useful in our mission. Should I not continue?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will, Data,” La Forge said, trying to explain himself without sounding too condescending. “I’m sorry. What you’re doing is important. I thought that maybe you were just working so hard at it because you were bored.”

  “While I did experience sensations comparable to boredom on four separate occasions after the installation of my emotion chip,” Data replied, “I have found no such variations in my motivational subroutines since the chip’s removal. I do not believe I remain capable of boredom.”

  “I see,” La Forge said in a soft voice, finding himself taken aback by his friend’s stark admission. In the wake of the incident with the demon ship, Data had been ordered to surrender his treasured emotion chip to Starfleet scientists. The slightest pleasure or the deepest pain were foreign sensations to him once again. Perhaps it was a blessing that he would be incapable of even aching for his own loss, and La Forge now realized that he himself had not taken the time to appreciate the full ramifications of his friend’s choice.

  With all of the activity surrounding the status of Captain Picard and the Enterprise in the wake of the demon-ship incident, the engineer had not taken the time to seek Data out and discuss his decision and its results in detail. Now he wondered whether he might have been unconsciously dodging the topic.

  “Data, I’m sorry,” La Forge said. “I just realized that was a pretty thoughtless thing for me to say.”

  The android nodded, appearing almost to console him rather than the other way around. “It is fine, Geordi. Without emotions to offend, I am the best individual on whom you can demonstrate your thoughtlessness.”

  Laughing aloud at that, La Forge suddenly felt as though he had been caught in a temporal loop that had tossed him into a conversation with his friend that could have occurred more than a decade ago.

  In many ways, that was precisely what had happened. This “version” of Data, without Dr. Noonien Soong’s emotion chip, seemed more like the person he had met during the Farpoint mission, his first assignment aboard the Enterprise, than the close friend he had accompanied to the Starfleet tribunal.

  According to the reports detailing the battery of diagnostic tests Starfleet technicians had performed on Data, the android’s memory banks had been unaffected by the emotion chip’s removal. His ability to access information regarding their travels and missions together appeared to have remained intact. However, without the chip to enhance his personal recollections of his experiences, his drawing of information from those memory files would carry the emotional warmth and impact of an encyclopedic database.

  “It just occurred to me,” La Forge said, “that in a lot of ways, you’re starting over, aren’t you?”

  Appearing to mull over the engineer’s words, Data paused several beats before responding. “I had not considered that before now. According to my self-diagnostics, my internal calculations are now performing at a rate that is 2.6877 percent more efficient than when the emotion chip was an active part of my systems. My current processing rate is within 0.0023 percent of my efficiency rating on Stardate 48642.8, my last internal diagnostic before the chip was installed.” Nodding, he added, “In a manner of speaking, I suppose this does mean that I am starting over, at least in some ways.”

  La Forge forced a smile, well aware that his friend, in all likelihood, had no clue that he really had changed. He wondered if Data had felt compelled to discuss the situation with anyone, or whether it might help him, or perhaps both of them, to better appreciate what this all meant.

  Deciding to take advantage of the opening, he asked, “Would you like to talk about it?”

  “Would that make you feel better, Geordi?”

  I guess it’s dumb for me to think it might make you feel better.

  “Yes, Data, I think it would.” La Forge considered several possible avenues of inquiry before finally deciding it best to start by keeping things simple. “Have you noticed anything different in your ability to operate or perform your duties? Aside from the increased efficiency, I mean.”

  “I have not.”

  “Have you sensed any, well, unexplained interruptions in your routines or protocols? Any lapses in function?”

  Data shook his head. “I have recorded no such lapses.”

  “Your positronic brain and its accompanying programming have adapted over the past few years in order to function with your emotion chip,” La Forge said. “Its removal is sure to affect, at least in some way, your overall operating systems. Do you sense any…loss?”

>   “As I have stated, I do not.”

  “That just doesn’t seem right to me,” La Forge said in a tone that belied his frustration. He was fumbling for the words and he knew the logical answer to the question he wanted to ask, so why did articulating that question seem so difficult? “Do you miss the chip, Data?” he asked finally.

  The android’s head cocked to one side in his typical expression of thoughtfulness. “I understand what you are attempting to say, Geordi, but no, I do not miss my emotions. Rather, without them, I am following a new sense of purpose.”

  This caught the engineer by surprise. “Really? In what way?”

  “My quest to better understand humanity was driven in part because I operated under the axiom that such information was required if I were to create my own emotional subroutines. I now know that creating such subroutines would result only in redundancy, as they already exist within the chip. Since the chip may be reinstalled someday, it appears that my energy and abilities would better serve the ship were I not pursuing goals of a personal nature.”

  The blunt statement stunned La Forge. “But Data, that very pursuit is what makes you you. No one expects you to give up part of yourself, regardless of whether you have that chip.”

  “I understand that,” Data replied, “but such efforts now seem unnecessary to my duties aboard the Enterprise.”

  “Data,” La Forge said, unsure how to proceed from here, “I…I don’t know what to say to that.” He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation had taken. “What about playing the violin or painting or acting out on the holodeck?” La Forge asked. “Are you saying that you don’t care about any of that anymore?”

  He allowed his gaze to wander about Data’s quarters, seeing the mementos and other items the android had collected over the years. Placed carefully on a small table was the violin he had learned to play years ago, even going so far as to participate in numerous impromptu concerts performed with other Enterprise crew members who played other musical instruments. A display case mounted on one wall held the various medals and awards Data had earned during his Starfleet career. One bookshelf held a few treasured volumes: The Collected Works of William Shakespeare, which had been a gift from Captain Picard; The Dream of the Fire by K’Ratak, given to him by Worf; and I, Robot, a work of twentieth-century speculative fiction that La Forge himself had offered as a present some years ago.