by Diane Carey
“It’s got to be here somewhere,” Geordi muttered. “You try the antimatter injector and I’ll—”
As the doors came together behind them, there was a corresponding clatter on the starboard side of the room that made them both look, just in time to see a dark form duck behind a panel.
“Who’s there?” Geordi demanded.
Data stepped in front of him and sharply ordered, “This is Commander Data. You are in a restricted area. Identify yourself.”
An innocent face peeked up in the corner, suddenly looking very guilty.
“Wesley!” Geordi exclaimed. “What are you doing in here? Come out of there.”
Wesley’s lanky form, still trying to grow into its own long bones, slowly sprouted from behind the panel. His hands gripped the hem of his sweater, a dark and thickly knit sweater that under these circumstances looked like reconnaissance gear. He’d known he was going to be in a cool area of the ship, evidently. “What’re you two doing here?” he echoed. “I mean, it’s sort of the middle of a crisis, isn’t it?”
“Right in the middle,” Geordi said. “The captain’s ordered an energy blackout—”
“I know.”
“And we picked up a power drain in the reserve tank. We’ve got to find it before the creature picks it up.” Through his visor Geordi saw Wesley’s face suddenly erupt with infrared.
“It can’t be much of a drain, can it?” the boy asked. “If you haven’t picked it up before . . . right?”
“That’s right, but it doesn’t make a bit—Wesley, what do you know about this?”
Data approached them and said, “Wesley, if you know about the power drain, you had better tell us. The antimatter from the tank has been emergency-dumped, and we cannot restock from the reserves until we discover the nature of the leak and lock it down.”
Wesley’s young eyes flashed in the dimness. “Well . . . I only . . . I was . . . ”
Geordi fanned his flashlight’s beam angrily. “This area’s off limits, for Christ’s sake, Wes!”
“I know, but that’s just a technicality and it would’ve taken weeks, maybe months, to get the power authorization if I’d gone through channels—”
“Channels exist for a reason. So do rules like off limits. You know what off limits means? What’re you up to?”
“Nothing, really.”
“Report, Ensign,” Data said, cutting through the familiarity and putting juniors where juniors belong.
“It’s really nothing. Someday it might be, though,” Wesley said, intimidation forgotten in enthusiasm. “Just wait. I’m doing an experiment on an idea I had to increase phaser power without pulling any more energy. I’ve got a little mock-up over here—”
He led them to a table that held a shapeless contraption. It looked like so much scrap, except that a light beam was glowing straight through the middle of it.
“What the hell—” Geordi stepped up to the model and pointed at it. “What’s this hooked up to?”
Wesley’s sheepishness returned. “I was . . . tapping the antimatter reserve.”
“Goddamn, Wes! You have an acting rank. Don’t you know that means you could be court-martialed?”
“But it’s never used! They don’t use it once in twenty years! How was I supposed to know they’d need it?”
“You do know this area’s off limits to anyone but authorized personnel,” Data said.
Geordi barely let him finish the sentence. “You start screwing around with the antimatter reserve and get a short or something, and suddenly there’s another sun around! It’s dangerous to tap the reserve directly. Don’t you know that?”
“Oh, come on, Geordi, it’s not that bad,” Wesley complained. “Under normal operation, nobody’d notice. It’d be like plugging in one extra lamp in a hotel. But with all the power shut down—”
“You know better than this.” Geordi shook his head, then said, “Then again, maybe you don’t. How long have you had this thing hooked up to the AR?”
“Well, only about four . . . or five . . . ”
“Days?”
“Weeks.”
“Oh, my God. You gotta be kidding me. What were you trying to do?”
“I didn’t mean any trouble.”
“Well, you’ve got trouble, mister.”
Wesley pulled out a professional whipped-puppy look. “You’d turn me in?”
Geordi looked at the little contraption again and scanned it for invisible leakage. “This is a starship, not a playground, Wes.” The device was working, somehow, doing something, though Geordi couldn’t tell what.
Now what? Report the boy? Wesley was genius material, sure, but not experienced. Had he not been living on a major starship, with all its labs and state-of-the-art technology, where experts in actual applied science, applied engineering, applied mechanics were readily available, some even teaching classes to the kids, he’d be just another smart sixteen-year-old. Living on Earth or such, he’d be bright and showered with opportunities, but not like this. Not to the point of getting his hands on a starship any old day. Geordi knew Wes Crusher had a natural ability to conceptualize the way the universe works, but the only way he could learn to apply it was through all the redundant practice a sixteen-year-old hated even to think about. On the bridge a week ago, Geordi had let Wesley try the helm controls because the boy had so quickly picked up the theories and principles of navigation, only to find that he had plenty of difficulty actually working the controls. Only time, only experience could teach that.
But this—this kind of game-playing was dangerous, and Wesley couldn’t see the danger. Hadn’t had his hands burned yet.
“Shut it down,” Geordi ordered.
“Okay,” Wes mumbled. “That’s what I was doing anyway.”
“Ah—so you knew we’d pick it up. This is wrong and you knew it. What’s the matter?”
“Well . . . ” Wesley hesitated, then said, “I’m not sure how to break the flow without rupturing the magnatomics. Besides, this could never pull enough power to cause a problem. That’s why I went ahead and did it.”
“Wes, even senior engineers don’t tamper with antimatter. Data, look this over. We’ve got to disconnect it.”
The android moved in, and Wesley stepped aside. “What is the principle behind this device?”
Using his hands to illustrate every little twist and turn of his idea, Wesley explained. “Basically, it breaks down the phaser in its initial cycle, into its increment frequencies and energies until the final cycle, when you recombine the phases all at once.”
“What is the problem with it?”
“It . . . doesn’t work.”
“I see.”
“But if it did, this model would have almost four times the power of a hand phaser, and draw from a reaction chamber only half the size of standard.”
“This little toy?” Geordi blurted.
Data looked at Wesley briefly. “Did you remember that with the splitting, you’d have to increase the power by the same magnitude as the split?”
Wesley looked from him to Geordi and back again. “Uh . . . no.”
“Otherwise it would not be strong enough to cycle,” Data postulated. “I’m concerned that the splitting would cause a loss of harmonics in the crystal focusing system. The crystal might break down and result in—”
“Heat. I already know that.”
“Listen, you two,” Geordi said, nudging Wesley even farther back, “Riker’s gonna split our harmonics if we don’t lock down this leak and get back topside. The creature could pop out of innerspace at us any second and I don’t want to be down here when it happens. Wesley, you get out of here, pronto. If the senior engineers find you, you’re going to know the meaning of reprimand.”
“But what about—”
“Data and I can shut it down. I’m going to have it disposed of. You’re on probation. If I hear about any more of these unauthorized experiments of yours, I’m reporting you to the chief engineer.”
&n
bsp; Wesley dropped his eyes and grumbled. “Yes, sir.”
“Out. And I mean a straight line out of this area and back to the saucer where you belong.”
The infrared glow increased on Wesley’s cheeks, and without a word he pivoted and strode out.
“Kids,” Geordi said, looking back at the glowing bundle of parts. “Can you unhook it without a backflush?”
“I believe so,” Data told him, carefully picking at the octopus of wires attached to one end of a long rod. “It actually is a remarkable idea. It may not have been tried before.”
“Yeah, Wesley thinks ideas are cheap. He doesn’t understand that implementation isn’t. Everything’s shortcuts when you’re a kid.”
“Is it?”
Geordi paused. “Oh . . . sorry.”
“No cause to apologize, my friend. I may be forced to accept what I am.”
“Now, what is that supposed to mean?”
The android’s slim form glowed within its filmy sheath, and perhaps the glow increased very, very slightly. “I am on a . . . quest.”
“Oh, no—what quest?”
“I must discover my true nature.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Why do you worry about it so much? Maybe you’re just special. Maybe you don’t have a true nature that you can compare to anything else because there’s never been anything like you. Ever think of that?”
“No, I hadn’t,” Data admitted. He paused, then plucked an inset from part of Wesley’s monster, and the whole thing suddenly shut down with a clean buzz-sigh. The beam of light snapped out an instant later.
Geordi repressed a shiver. “That’s a relief. I get the willies thinking he’s had this hooked up to the reserves all this time.”
“There wouldn’t necessarily have been a rupture,” Data said, “but that’s problematical now.”
“I wouldn’t want to test it, thanks. Let me check the stabilization . . . looks clear now. Concur?”
“I do.”
Geordi tapped his insignia and said, “LaForge to Riker.”
“Riker. What was it?”
“Just a malfunction in the seals.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. Are we clear to restock the main tank?”
“I think so, sir. You might want to have it checked by a containment engineer.”
“We don’t have the time. Counselor Troi insists that entity’s still in the vicinity and even though it doesn’t show up on any of our monitors, I’ve got to assume she’s right. How’s Data?”
Geordi glanced at the android as Data looked up. “He’s . . . fine, sir.”
“All right . . . we’re going to flush the antimatter reserves into the mains right away so we can power up for warp speed if we have to. You stay there and monitor it. Yell if there’s so much as a ripple.”
“Yes, sir. LaForge out.” He shrugged. “I don’t think he hates you as much as you think.”
Data gathered the remains of Wesley’s experiment and stuffed it into a reconditioning chute, piece by piece. “Mr. Riker may be right about me. I have had to accept it.”
“You’re starting again.”
“Perhaps so,” the android said, straightening and facing him. “But it is important for me to discover where I fit into the range of humanness. The question of whether or not the entity is a life-form or what it is to be human—body, spirit, pulse, compassion—all these are things which will show where there is a place for me.” He paced toward Geordi, and finally past him to the big main schematics that showed a faintly lit diagram of the ship’s entire warp engine system, and in a gesture almost gentle, he placed his hand on the lines and lights. “I may be part of the scheme of evolution for the future. Man lives . . . man develops machines, learns to use them, to improve them, to create machines that are smarter and faster than himself, more efficient . . . and he uses those to better himself, even to make them part of himself.” He paused, turned, looked at Geordi’s visor, and knew that even in the faintly lit darkness Geordi could see him with astonishing clarity. “Like you, my friend. You are part of the scheme too. Eventually, perhaps man achieves symbiosis with machines, perhaps even creates life?” He gazed at the board again. “Is that my place? Machines that live?
“And now Captain Picard must decide what to do. Because I know . . . I know that thing means to destroy this ship when it finds us again. It believes that is its purpose. Yet I have received impressions inconsistent with that goal.”
“Like what?”
“Like fear. Am I right? That isn’t consistent.”
Geordi shrugged lamely. “I dunno. It could be. You mean it’s afraid of us?”
“No. It is afraid for us.”
“Sorry, but you’ll have to explain that one. I just see well, remember? I’m no psychologist.”
“The aliens who created it actually knew what life is made of. They knew the moment when consciousness and sense of self begin in a mass of cells. Somehow they encoded the entity with the belief that it must absorb us in order to protect us from this very ship.”
“That’s great,” Geordi grumbled, “just great. Doesn’t it have the brains to know the ship is what’s protecting us from the environment of space?”
“It is a tool, Geordi. A mechanism that decides for itself according to its best judgment.” Data spoke softly, as though entreating him to understand what it could be like to rely only on memory and not on intuition, on programming rather than insight. He paused, and flattened his hand even more intimately on the display board. “It is my greatest fear,” he said, “that I may find I am nothing more than a tool.”
Aching with empathy, Geordi felt the sting of his own helplessness. He could mutter some useless reassurances, but he had no answers. None that would satisfy or comfort Data as there might be comfort for a human being. Data’s relentlessly analytical mind wouldn’t allow him to accept simple answers, and he had stumbled onto a question that defied answers, and would defy them until time ground to a tired halt. Then everything would start up again and the question would resurface, slippery as ever.
“Data . . . ” he said finally, “if it’s any consolation, I don’t think I could be friends with a machine.”
The android’s eyes lost their focus for a moment. The kind words ran through his body, and actually warmed him. Geordi could see the change.
Then Data looked at him askance, and his mouth lengthened into that crooked little grin. “Thank you, Geordi. I will never forget that. No matter what happens.”
Still soft, still sentimental. No slang, no trappings. That was the real Data. Except for the hint of foreknowledge in his tone, which Geordi didn’t digest for several seconds.
Perhaps it was that Data didn’t look away, but that he kept gazing with that curious look, a look that said he had something else cooking in his idea kitchen, and after a moment Geordi took a suspicious step toward him.
“What do you mean, no matter what happens? Hey!”
The deck dropped out from under him. His arms and legs flared out with the initial shock of being lifted, and he realized that he too had committed the crime of forgetting where human ability stopped and android ability took over.
“Data, put me down! What are you—” The room spun, and he was deposited neatly on his feet at the top of a stack of heavy-stress storage units. As he got his balance he noticed the flash of metallic skin as Data plucked the insignia-com from Geordi’s own chest and stepped down from the crates.
Geordi waved his arms and complained, “What’re you doing?”
It took him several seconds to climb down, but that was enough for Data to step back and press the closure circuit for the transparent contamination wall. Two clear wall panels slid out from sockets in the opposite walls and closed in the middle just as Geordi reached them. He was forced to watch helplessly as Data shorted out the lock and fused it. A flare of sparks, and Geordi was trapped.
“Data! What’s this for? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m sorry,
Geordi,” the android said, and truly he sounded sorry. “This may be the only time when I am not expected to be on the bridge.”
Geordi’s voice was muffled now behind the clear wall. “I don’t get it. Let me out.”
“I will be taking a shuttlecraft. Please inform the captain and Mr. Riker that I will attempt to get closer to the creature in hopes of communicating more clearly with it.”
Geordi pressed his hands on the transparency. “Data, come on, don’t. Don’t! That’s insane. Come on, open up. Don’t do this. Don’t risk your life.”
“Some would say I have no life to risk.”
“Oh, don’t be a wart! Open the door. How’m I supposed to inform the captain of anything if I’m stuck in here.”
“That is an excellent point. But I must take advantage of the opportunity.” He started to turn away, only to stop, pause, turn back. He gazed at the floor for a moment, then looked up once again at the only person who’d ever treated him completely like a human being.
“Thank you for the past, my friend,” he said, his face astonishingly animate. Now he grinned sentimentally and added, “You’ve been a pal.”
Chapter Nine
THE CAPTAIN STRODE back into his ready room after being gone for nearly forty-five minutes. Deanna Troi still sat where he’d last seen her, her hands still folded in her lap, and she blinked as though coming out of a trance.
Picard came around his desk into her line of sight, though she already knew he was here, and waited until she looked at him.
“They’re waiting outside. They’ve been fully briefed. Are you sure you’re up to this?”
Troi sighed and nodded. “Believe me, sir,” she said, “I’m just as worried about my own sanity as I am about those beings out there. I’d like an end to this. And I need help finding it.”