Chapter Ten
Starfleet headquarters was abuzz with activity and rumour. The news that the USS Enterprise had appeared unannounced in orbit around earth, accompanied by five other starships, had spread like wildfire.
It was common knowledge that the Enterprise had been implicated in the theft of the Soong-type android from the Daystrom Institute, but beyond the simple statement from Starfleet command that Captain Jean-Luc Picard was a wanted fugitive, no details of the action at Daystrom had been released, and speculation was rife. All over the grounds knots of people gathered to share information, tell tall tales, and hypothesise on the meaning of the ships' presence. Yellow uniformed security personnel prowled the paths, breaking up groups with stern words and harsh glances. There was no violence. Not yet.
Inside the buildings housing the leaders of Starfleet all was quiet chaos as the department heads, admirals and commanders scrambled to prepare for the upcoming investigation. An official announcement, sent via interdepartmental secure channels, was that there would be a formal briefing in three hours for the senior staff only, and the mad dash was on as Starfleet personnel desperately tried to gather their notes, and their wits.
Then the Enterprise began broadcasting a subspace message, voice only, on a broad band of frequencies. It stated that it was from Captain Jean-Luc Picard, that the presence in orbit of the Saratoga, Melbourne, Ahwahnee, Gage and Liberator was a show of respect and unity for their fellow crew members, the androids. That the purpose of their appearance was to overturn the ruling that androids were property. That they wished to convene a public hearing.
Everyone at headquarters with a subspace radio received the transmission, as did most of San Francisco. Then, the protests started. Pro- and anti-android groups clashed in the city, and on the grounds surrounding headquarters, and security teams with phasers set to stun waded in to break up the warring groups.
Into this chaos of their own making, the crew of the Enterprise bought their grievances.
A courtroom was prepared, and the Judge Advocate General briefed. Starfleet command voted on those best to lead their legal council.
Vice Admiral Haftel, Vice Admiral Nakamura, Vice Admiral Blackwell and Fleet Admiral Nechayev prepared their rebuttals. There was no jury, there was no time, the shuttle from the Enterprise had landed. The baying crowd surrounded them on either side of the path, held back by security personnel, as Captain Picard, Commander Riker and Lieutenant Commander Data made their way from the landing pad to the main building.
"I think we've heard enough."
Rear Admiral Bennett, the Judge Advocate General, pursed his lips as he surveyed his notes.
The court, packed to the rafters with curious people, had heard an impassioned plea from Captain Picard, a heartfelt tale of heroism from Vice Admiral Hanson, and a remorseful declaration from Commander Riker. From Haftel, Nakamura, Blackwell and Nechayev, they had heard scientific data, hard facts, and cold logic.
The crowd gathered included peoples of all races, but the pale faces of the androids were notable only by their absence.
Judge Bennett lifted his eyes to the room. "I have heard nothing here today to sway my judgement that the original ruling should stand..."
"I wish to speak." Data stood. His chair was to one side, away from his friends and colleagues, his allies. The judge frowned.
"You do not have the right to speak."
"I demand to be heard."
"Let him speak!" Someone called from the crowd.
"Yes, let it!" "Speak!" "Let him speak!" The voices rang out from all corners. The judge banged his gavel for silence.
"Order!" He looked at the android, pale face impassive, just like the others.
"I will allow you to speak, on the condition that you stick solely to facts. Any emotional outbursts and you will be declared defective."
The crowd murmured. Data dipped his head in acknowledgement to the judge and began.
"As I am sure you are all aware, I am the Alpha template for all Maddox-class androids. I was there at the beginning, when Commander Maddox first began his exploration into creating a replica of my positronic brain. I am here to tell you that his replicas are flawed."
The courtroom was filled again with whispers. Haftel frowned and leaned forward.
"In what way are they flawed? We have all seen the androids, and they seem to function well."
"Only because of my intervention, sir." Data replied. "Maddox displayed a fundamental misunderstanding of the way that the positronic brain works. He tried to force memories into it, instead of allowing them to grow and learn. His first androids were all deranged, totally incapable of functioning..."
The judge banged his gavel again as the crowd reacted.
Data continued. "Maddox realised that something was wrong, but he did not have the expertise, or the desire, to try to find his error and at the time, neither did I. I have since come into possession of a chip which has provided me, not only with emotional awareness, but also the memories of my childhood on Omicron Theta, where I was guided in my development by my parents. Commander Maddox's error was to deny his androids these early years. He was trying to put nearly thirty years of knowledge and memories into the mind of a child. The positronic brain is a learning system, designed to grow and adapt. Maddox curtailed those abilities in an effort to make his androids conform. The conflict between their memory content and their programming is what has caused so many problems. The only reason that so many androids are able to function is because of the help that I have given them in their formative stages, and continue to provide. If you insist on denying them the right to learn, to become more than they are, to express themselves, my fear is that they will lapse once more into insanity."
"Order!" The judge shouted as the crowd noise rose. Judge Bennett scowled at the android.
"This would appear to be wild speculation." He said.
"No sir, it is the inescapable conclusion that I have reached after many hours of study. My knowledge is based in my understanding of the positronic brain, and the messages that I receive every moment, every second, from every Maddox android that is currently functioning."
"What?" Nechayev stared at him. "What messages?"
"The Maddox androids have been fitted with subspace transceivers, the purpose of which is to collate data on their movements, check for aberrant behaviour or malfunction, and have the androids report everything they say, do or hear directly to the Daystrom Institute."
"I will have order or I will have the courtroom cleared!" The staccato raps of the gavel spit through the rumbling of conversation.
An ensign scuttled across the floor to Fleet Admiral Nechayev and whispered something to her. She paled, and excused herself as Data spoke on.
"The androids have learned to use a network of subspace beacons in order to communicate. They speak to each other, and to me. I was able to tap into the subspace network during my time at the Institute, and have since had my own transceiver installed. They are trying to find their way, but they are lost and there is no-one but me to guide them. I have given them my own memories, my dreams and aspirations, my support and love..."
"That is enough!" Haftel snapped over the voices of the multitude. "This is rubbish, nonsense! You are spinning us some fairy-tale..."
"You own a Maddox android, do you not sir?" Data looked at him through his golden eyes. Haftel's face flushed.
"The androids are the property of Starfleet, as you well know..."
"Then why did an android paint the interior of your apartment on Galor four?"
"That's absurd..."
"It does your housework, looks after your son. You do not allow it out of your apartment for fear that it will be seen ..." Data lifted his voice over the rising crowd noise. "You deactivate it whenever it is not in use. It has no designation, no serial number..." He was almost shouting now as the voices surged. "Your son calls him Andrew..."
"ENOUGH!" The furious judge roared over the baying of the crowd. Haftel's face had gone white. Two security guards stepped forward and took Data's arms, but he carried on, remorseless.
"You asked me for the facts, sir, and I intend to give them to you." His voice rang out. "In the Daystrom Institute Annex on Galor Four, now presided over by Vice Admiral Haftel, you will find a storage compartment containing seven hundred and forty-five Maddox androids, created without authorisation, bearing no designation or serial number, and only basic programming. Commander Maddox had a trade agreement with a Zibalian by the name of Kivas Fajo, who has taken two hundred and fifty of the thousand unregistered androids created by Maddox. One hundred have been sold to the Romulans where they are working in appalling conditions in the dilithium mines on Remus, and the remaining hundred and fifty to the Cardassians..."
"GET HIM OUT! I DECLARE HIM DEFECTIVE!" Bellowed the judge. The guards began dragging the android away but the room was in uproar. Picard, Riker and Hanson were already on their feet as the crowd surged forward. The mob tore the guards away from the android and surrounded him. Picard and the others were fighting their way through the people, shoving and elbowing as the living sea carried Data up over their heads.
"Save the android!" "Don't let them take him!" "Rescue Data!" Somewhere in the crowd someone screamed as a phaser stunned them. Guards were pouring into the room as a voice rang out;
"An invasion! The Borg are in the Alpha Quadrant!"
"Data! DATA!" Riker was grabbing people, pulling them aside to try and reach his friend, when he felt a strong grip around his waist. The hands lifted him effortlessly and, with a yelp of shock, he found himself being launched through the air.
Data reached out and caught him, swinging him to break his momentum as the people supporting him collapsed under the additional weight. They stumbled and fell, Data hauling Riker to his feet as a ring of pale faces formed around them. The shrieking, milling crowd cleared from around them, heading for the doors, as the androids that worked at headquarters came to the assistance of their Alpha.
Picard and Hanson appeared, flanked by the black uniformed androids. The group pushed their way to the doors, the androids gentle but indefatigable as they moved people aside.
"Alpha, I recognise you." One of them spoke to Data. "You must get back to the Enterprise. We have lowered the shield over the grounds temporarily, so that you may beam out as soon as we exit the building."
"Delta 064, I recognise you. Thank you for your assistance."
In the reception area, all was chaos as security teams pushed, shoved and stunned as necessary in order to get the milling mass out of the building.
"We will not allow them to harm you." Delta 064 spoke again to the small group he was herding. The androids closed ranks around them and began pushing their way through the guards. The panicked security team fell back, and they were out.
Picard slapped his combadge. "Picard to Enterprise." Hanson was already shimmering out of view.
"Enterprise here."
"Three to beam up! Now!"
"Yellow alert!" Picard strode onto the bridge, followed closely by Riker. "Report!" He barked.
"Sir," Worf replied, "We have confirmed reports of a Borg cube in the Alpha quadrant. It came out of the Romulan Neutral Zone about ten minutes ago and is headed directly for Earth."
"Estimated time to its arrival in sector 001?" Picard turned to Wesley.
"Even at warp nine, they won't reach us for at least a hundred and eighty hours..."
"Plot a course to intercept, warp nine."
"Course set." Wesley replied.
"Engage. Worf, signal the fleet. We can't let the Borg get to Earth."
The senior staff once again congregated in the observation lounge, the stars streaking past the window as they hurtled towards the Neutral Zone.
"If the Borg continue at their present rate, we will be within sensor range in three days." Gamma said.
Picard looked at the android. "Mister Gamma, any recommendations after our last encounter?"
"I think it's clear from our previous engagements with the Borg that a frontal assault is not going to be effective, and I'm sure they will have adapted since Wolf 359. I doubt that we'll be able to use their subspace network to hack in to their command subroutines again." Gamma shook his head, and looked around at the officers. "We need something new."
Picard sighed. "Suggestions, anyone?"
The senior officers looked at each other in despair. After Wolf 359 there had been talk of developing new shield technology, new weapons designed to circumvent the Borg's ability to adapt, but there hadn't been enough time to implement any changes. All the new measures to combat this threat were still firmly in the development stages.
"What if we go back to the original plan?" Geordi leaned forward. "A virus?"
Picard steepled his fingers. "I'm listening."
"If we can make something aggressive enough to overwhelm the Collective consciousness, it should shut them down. A self-replicating worm, for example. It'd fill their memory banks with worthless junk code until they couldn't function."
"But how do we get it to them?" Crusher queried. "We can't very well hand them a PADD!"
"We might be able to transmit it via a carrier wave." Gamma looked thoughtful. "We know the Borg connect to the Collective via subspace transceivers, just like us androids. If we could find the right frequency, we can transmit it straight to them, and it would be different enough from our previous strategy that they might not spot it."
"Mister La Forge, you and your boys get on this now. Mister Worf, I want a full report on any new information we may have on the Borg's adaptations, and the current level of their weapons and shield capabilities. Doctor Crusher, we'll need triage set up ready. Mister Gamma, stay a moment. The rest of you; dismissed."
The officers scurried from the room, plans forming in their minds as they hurried to their respective duties. Picard turned to Gamma.
"I need you to talk to Data."
"Sir?" Gamma was puzzled. "Regarding anything in particular?"
"We are going to need all the help we can get. I need you to convince him."
Gamma grimaced. "I haven't seen him since you beamed back aboard after the trial, but I know it didn't go well..."
"He's holed himself up in his quarters. Now, I know that he is upset and disappointed, and I am not unsympathetic, but he has to be made to realise that this threat is a potential hazard to the entire quadrant, and we need his assistance. I want him working with Geordi on this virus."
"And if he won't see me?"
"Then pester him using that damned subspace link you all have, get Geordi's boys to do it as well! Get him back to work!"
Gamma stifled a sigh. "Yes sir."
Gamma strode out of the observation lounge and Picard lent back in his seat and closed his eyes with a sigh. His combadge chirped and he swatted at it.
"Picard."
"Sir? Bridge here... The Borg have stopped."
"What?" He sat bolt upright. "What do you mean stopped?"
"They've gone into orbit around a planet, Galor Four."
Picard was on his feet, marching to the bridge. "Acknowledged. Picard to engineering."
"La Forge here, sir."
"Geordi, we have to increase speed, the Borg are up to something and we need to get there as fast as possible. I need you to give me everything you can."
"Aye, sir!"
Picard strode onto the bridge. "Mister Crusher, at maximum warp, how quickly can we get to Galor Four?"
Wesley tapped away at his console, calculating. "We can have warp 9.6 for twelve hours, then drop to 9.4, that'd give us... six days, four hours. But we can boost back up to 9.6 as soon as..."
"Make it so, Mister Crusher."