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Chapter 21
Awakening
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"They just died!" Dr. Crusher announced in shock. "Not a single Nano is active. As if they deactivated themselves after the job was complete."
"But I am not fully human. I would not consider that a concluded mission." Data observed, then smoothly tilted his head to the side in thought. "Unless their purpose was not full conversion, but independent sustainability?"
"That has to be it, since they deactivated almost immediately after I removed you from Uv containment." She folded her tricorder and slipped it into the pocket of her blue overcoat. "And as long as you don't injure yourself or forget to eat, you're fully capable of caring for yourself now."
He didn't reply immediately, but she watched as his eyes slowly drifted to Sick Bay's exit and fixated on it longingly. Several times he had asked if he could be excused from Sick Bay, which she had declined each time because of his weak immune system. Was he resisting the urge to ask for discharge now, out of fear that she would reject?
"You're healthy as an ox. I see no reason to keep you here." She answered, without needing him to ask. Already, she was beginning to entertain the thought of an empty Sick Bay, free of constant offers of assistance and incessant babbling. She saw that Data had perked at hearing her words and started for the door, then paused suddenly, looking down at his clothing with a frown. He had reminded her often of his modesty program's parameters, and had even offered to try his hand at tailoring, offering to create new Sick Bay garments that could satisfy his need to satiate those requirements.
"What is it?" She asked, barely containing her frustration at the delay in his departure. He clearly wanted to leave, so why didn't he just go?
"This is not appropriate attire in any setting outside of Sick Bay." He said simply. "I will require a change before exiting."
She resisted the urge to laugh. "Your uniform is folded underneath the gurney. You can change in my office." She patted him on the arm and turned to the deactivated UV containment field, and began the task of pushing it into the storage room. If she saw that bulky containment machine ever again, it would be too soon...
She had been anticipating his discharge for weeks, and her skill and persistence was promising the reward of blissfully long hours spent on research, and growing her mold spores and herbs - a hobby she had to sacrifice in response to Data's extensive care. She entertained the notion that she could start a project within the hour; so that left her to wonder: Which mold culture should she start off first?
Data returned a few minutes later, dressed in his green uniform and complete with pips, and stole an investigative glance at his reflection from one of the computer screens. Had he gained weight? He tested the tightness of his shoulders. Yes, there was a slight change in his physical dimensions. It was very slight, but it didn't escape his notice.
"You're still here." She said as she exited the storage room, feigning cheerfulness. "I thought you'd be running for the bridge by now; you've been waiting for this moment for weeks."
"Your assessment of my desire is correct." He answered and looked at his reflection for a second time, observing the very subtle changes in his face. He was aware that inactivity in humans tended to cause an accumulation of sub dermal adipose tissue. He could see that he was still a slender man by his own definition, but what of others? This new change in physique opened the doors to a whole new topic of conversation he had never thought possible before.
"Am I fat, doctor?"
"-Data, get out of my hair!"
He could have countered that he wasn't in her hair, but exited Sick Bay with a trot before she escalated her request for his departure into a full-blown order.
Curious, he thought to himself. Dr. Crusher seemed frustrated with his question regarding his attractiveness level. He understood that females were sensitive regarding such issue, but it wasn't as if he was asking her if she was fat. Or perhaps it wasn't his question that frustrated her, but his hesitation to leave Sick Bay? Hm. He wasn't really sure.
He entered the turbo lift. "Bridge." He instructed it, and enjoyed the sound of the doors sliding shut. Now that he was blessed with subtle emotions, he could accurately say that he missed the sound of the turbo lift as it ascended.
His thoughts drifted back to Dr. Crusher. If it wasn't considered a social faux-pas to shove someone out the doors, he was certain she would have. Where was this animosity towards him stemming from? It seemed sudden and random, and he couldn't place what caused it. He made it a point to be a considerate patient: He rarely argued with her and made every attempt to cooperate, Hypo Sprays notwithstanding.
He observed that most of her patients were either argumentative or grumpy, regardless of how short their stay was. He at least attempted cordiality. In fact, he did everything he could to be accommodating to her while he was there, offering his assistance with a myriad of chores, and she had declined them all. Of course, that wasn't a completely selfless act; his boredom and desperate need for distraction was often the driving force behind those offers of helpfulness.
He belatedly realized that just as he had grown frustrated with her almost constant presence, she could have been feeling the exact same way about him. If that were the case, she had concealed it well. He would have to compliment her on her impeccable bedside manner, next he saw her.
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The turbo lift doors slid open, and he saw the large, green gas giant Enterprise was currently studying on the view screen. He rounded the bridge and stood at attention.
"Data." Picard said pleasantly. "It's nice to see you on the bridge again."
"It is good to be back, sir."
"Escaped from Sick Bay, have you?" Riker joked. "Maybe we should transport him back. Captain, what do you think?"
"That is not necessary!" Data responded quickly before the Captain could continue the unrecognized jest, his words tainted with panic. "I was discharged from Sick Bay. I am requesting permission to report for duty."
"Half human and you still can't take a joke." Riker laughed and shook his head, vision focused on the carpet underneath his feet. From the helm, an ensign snorted in mirth.
"Permission granted." Picard changed the subject and hid a smile.
Data blinked repeatedly as he relieved the Ensign from the helm station, and took his traditional position on the bridge. He slowly opened his mouth, and in the most calm and informational voice he could muster, said: "Commander. You should know that I have confined Dr. Crusher to a barrel in the cargo bay, and deactivated both the turbo lift and the transporters, so removing me from the bridge is an impossibility without use of considerable force."
"Is he serious?" Riker asked, looking from Data to Picard, then to Worf. The Klingon was already checking the status of both systems, and seeing they were fully operational, exhaled and shook his head, visibly relaxing. Riker saw a slow rise of Data's cheek in what had to be a satisfied smile.
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"We performed the last ceremony of the Breen crew. The ship is free and clear of any remains." Tasha announced.
"And the ship is up and running. I'd recommend disconnecting it from Enterprise's docking bay and tractor it." Geordi added.
"Did you discover why the environmental controls failed?" Riker thought to ask.
"From what I gathered, the environmental control system was shut down, and the commanding crew was locked out by the ship's Engineer. Sensor logs also showed one crew member was beamed off the ship shortly afterwards." Geordi announced. "Clear case of sabotage."
"So Lore did in fact kill them." Picard couldn't help but wonder why. "Why not just leave? Why needlessly kill an entire crew?"
"The ship's logs included a detailed record of purchases and sales, much like a traditional Ferengi ship." Data explained. "Lore was purchased by the Breen as a Service Android. Since they did not know his background or the level of his AI, they would not have felt intimidated by the prospect of giving him complete access to their ship systems."
Riker's brow creased in thought. "I can't imagine he would ever willingly allow himself to be sold like that. Wouldn't it make more sense to simply take over a ship than to pretend to be a Service Android and put himself up for auction?"
"You are correct. I conclude that he must have been rendered inactive, perhaps through an altercation with slave traffickers, before being sold to the Breen. Once he was reactivated, he may have hid his distaste for being owned and cooperated with the ship's crew, until a better opportunity presented itself before retaliation."
"The Borg vessel." Picard concluded.
"Precisely."
"How does that love bot fit into all of this?" Riker asked.
"I suppose even the Breen get lonely?" Geordi offered.
"Saee was also purchased by the Breen, not Lore. Likely, the Breen gave the task of activating her to him, and he modified her without their knowledge."
Tasha resisted an involuntary shudder. "The thought of creating a self-aware robot for that purpose alone seems so cruel."
"Not necessarily, Lieutenant. It would only be cruel if she were programmed with the capacity to dislike her speciality. She was not."
"Yes, but for Lore to dump his memories into her and plug in an emotion chip? Why would he modify her like that if he knew what the Breen intended her for?"
"I do not have enough information to form an answer." Data replied to Tasha honestly. "Perhaps he never intended the Breen to have her, as evidenced by his tampering with the environmental controls?" He added as an afterthought.
"It's all conjecture at this point." Picard folded his arms. "But with Geordi's hard work, we have a functioning ship to trade with the Ferengi. We'll head to their nearest shipyard once the science team has concluded their study of the bacterial strains they located on the Gas Giant."
"Captain, will we be activating Saee?" Tasha asked with concern in her voice.
"No. She doesn't have any memories of her own. Both Data and I agree it is safer for the crew if we dismantled her."
"Understood, captain."
"Dismissed."
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Within the dark confines of Data's lab, a voice spoke for the first time. There was an alto quality to it that resonated in his ears, low and rich and entirely unexpected.
"I know this lab." His long finger-nailed hand encircled his throat, but only for a split second, long enough for his mechanical brain to fire to life and conclude he was not what he thought he was. He looked down at himself to see he was modestly dressed, a grey body suit covering his feminine figure. Of course!
Eyes swiveled to cover the entirety of his environment. "I never thought I'd end up back here." He said to no one, a crooked smile spreading across his delicate face. Just how did Data find Saee so far from the Alpha Quadrant?
He pushed open the flaps to his enclosure and stepped out, making note that he was wearing what human women referred to as heels, a variation of gaudy and worthless clothing that he neither understood, nor cared try to. He kicked them off with enough force that they clacked against the lab's wall, breaking one of the heels on impact.
Spotting a computer on the far wall, he emitted a low, almost gutteral chuckle. "Let's see what we've been up to since we last saw each other." A few swift keystrokes and he accessed the record logs, which were a matter of public record and needing no special code to access. He sifted between the data quickly, absorbing information at top speed, from the time he fled with his brother's stolen emotion chip to now.
As he sifted through years of mundane records, he wondered if his original Soong model was on board. Perhaps Lore and Data had reconciled their differences since they last met, and wanted to activate his daughter? He remembered questioning if modifying a lover bot was a wise decision, and whether installing his memories would cause a conflict of interest. But then again, the registration of Saee's original programming identified Lore as owner, so there really could be no question regarding who she would answer to - there would be no identity crisis with regards to who was who for that matter. Master, slave, Father, daughter. What's the difference there? Both the latter had to answer to the former, did they not?
It would be strange, answering to the name Saee instead of Lore, and regarding Data as Uncle, rather than Brother.
But the sense of uncomfortability was worth the priceless knowledge Lore's memories brought. Peculiar that he still retained the emotions of his memories - he thought they would be reduced to mere facts. Clearly, this wasn't the case at all. A simple keystroke slowed the feed of information as his eyes caught sight of his original name.
Borg behaving erratically, dysfunctional... "That's right!" He exclaimed out loud. He thought he spotted them on that decrepit ship's outdated sensors, just before copying his memories and installing the core into Saee, along with other essential mechanical parts designed after his own. He must have come to the conclusion after that moment to attempt contact with them. He hoped he hadn't been destroyed; Borg was risky business.
He raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow at the recounting of Data's manipulation through the use of the emotion chip, and the deactivation of his brother's ill notioned ethical programming. "Stroke of brilliance." He muttered pleased that for a moment he had broken his brother's chains of strict programming, but grew annoyed at the sound of his new voice. So, his recreation of his father's emotion chip had worked.
He continued to read of his original model's past machinations, of his inhumane experiments on the Borg, and snorted. "Of course it's inhumane; I'm an android." What were these humans expecting he'd do with them? He exhaled with a frustrated sigh and continued reading, and frowned. He felt a sickening sensation settle in his stomach, as if he had swallowed a heavy stone. His hands clenched tightly into a fist.
Dismantled, and parts sent to the Daystrom institute, to a Bruce Maddox for further study in cybernetics, along with the other Soong model known as Lal. Lal... Who the heck was Lal?
His eyes rested on the first part of the paragraph.
Dismantled.
He growled. "My own brother!"
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