Chapter 54

Beverly studied the panel before her, her face pinched with concentration. She reached out, started to touch a pad, then withdrew her hand, hesitating. She frowned, then let out a long breath, reached out and touched the control.

The console hesitated for a moment, then revealed itself as a yellow circle.

"No!" she cried out in frustration, even as the circle disappeared, and a triumphant cry came from the other side of the board.

"Ka-sa!" the little voice announced happily, touching two controls quickly, each revealing a yellow circle. The keys faded out as a red mark appeared on the child's side of the board – and the remainder of the screen faded into a neutral grey.

"You win," Beverly said, smiling, brightly at the little boy, adding, "Again."

The boy laughed, then jumped up from the floor and ran off to join his friends, calling out his success.

"You should not allow the boy to win so easily," Worf said with disapproving firmness. "It will teach him to value that the victory more than the challenge."

Beverly smiled up at the Klingon, then proffered her hand, silently asking for an assist as she struggled to her feet.

He took the hand, easily helping her, his frown unchanged. "You must teach them to persevere, to struggle valiantly at all times, even in the face of defeat," he admonished her.

"Allowing a child to win a game – once in a while – can also keep them motivated, interested in the challenge. Make it too hard, or with too few successes, and they'll give up. And in any case, I didn't 'let' him win. He won the game fair and square," she answered.

Worf gave her a skeptical look. "Trasna is a children's game, Doctor. Every child plays it."

"Every Klingon child, perhaps – but I'm not Klingon, and neither is Hemesh. He taught it to me - and he hadn't played it until someone taught it to him last night. And apparently he won every game against his teacher," she said, smiling at him.

Worf blushed furiously. "I... did not want to appear to be 'bullying' the boy by winning every game," he conceded.

Beverly patted his arm. "You're a good man, Worf." She sighed, then looked at the children playing on the far side of the room. "Look at them," she said. "Three weeks ago they would barely move unless the others moved with them; today, they are much more confident in being able to move around this room without undue concern about whether the others are close. Hemesh was even playing with me without looking back at the others... well, not very often."

"They have made much progress," Worf agreed.

"But more – much more – to do before they'll be able to find their way in life," she sighed. "It's going to take time – years for some of them - and others might never succeed in overcoming what was done to them. How could the Cardassians do this to them? To their own children?" she said in quiet outrage.

"No culture is without its crimes against its own," he reminded her. "When we are able to move past the time when we see our own people as nothing more than pawns in our schemes – a means to an end that can be toss aside and discarded without thought in order that we may achieve goals or power or position – that is when we know that we have... evolved," he announced.

Beverly nodded, lost in sober thought. "And perhaps these children will only know a society that espouses that belief – if we can get them to a world where they will be safe," she added, then looked at him. "Has there been any word from TIron's pilot?" she asked.

Worf shook his head. "No. Tiron received confirmation that he departed as scheduled – but every communication between us increases the risk that we may be found. We will have proceed on the assumption that he will meet us at the rendezvous point as arranged."

"That's five days from now, Worf," she pointed out. "Five days of sitting here, waiting – and at risk of being detected by the Federation or the Breen – or both," she reminded him.

"There is less risk of being detected if we remain in place, Doctor," Data interrupted. "Movement of the ship can create tachyon and other particle emissions that are detectable by passing ships. By 'standing still' we are less likely to be found by any passing ships."

Beverly gave a soft gasp of surprise. "Data! I didn't hear you come in."

He gave her a puzzled look. "I did not 'come in.' I have been here throughout your conversation, Doctor," he replied, puzzled. "I was doing a puzzle with Thipra," he added, gesturing to a young girl seated at a nearby table who was piecing together a picture.

Beverly followed his gesture, then managed an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, Data; I thought you were B-4," she explained.

He inclined his head, considering, then nodded. "I can understand your confusion, Doctor; there is a similarity in our appearances. But B-4 is currently engaged in... coloring..." he used the word uncertainly, "... with some of the children." He pointed to a corner where several children were sprawled on the floor, using colored styli to make drawings. After a moment, she realized that B-4 was one of them.

In many ways, she thought to herself with a sigh, B-4 was a child. For all that he possessed in terms of Data's intellect and abilities, emotionally and socially he was little more advanced than the Chiemma were. But physically... "You're not similar, Data; you're identical," she countered.

"That is not a completely accurate statement, Doctor. As you pointed out on your initial evaluation of my brother, there is a discrepancy in the vertical placement of our eyes," he replied.

"Which I can detect when I have a scanner," Beverly answered. "But from a distance, and without seeing your faces, I couldn't tell. And... well... I didn't expect to see you here. B-4 does play with the children more than you do," she pointed out. "I thought you would be on the bridge with Tiron."

Worf gave the android a worried frown. "You are scheduled to take the ambassador's place at fifteen hundred hours," he reminded Data.

"I will be there," he replied.

Beverly watched the android for a moment, sensing there was something he wasn't saying – and watching his eyes turn back to his brother, she realized the source of that concern.

"Worf, I want to check on the girls – and then I'm going to get some sleep. Can you stay with the children until Tiron gets here?" she asked.

"Yes, Doctor," he answered gruffly, then added, "I thought I would teach them to play go. It is simpler than chess..."

"Go is often considered a game of greater subtleties and intricate strategy than chess," Data interrupted.

"It can be," Worf agreed, "but it is simpler to learn. And it can be played with fewer resources," he added grimly.

Beverly nodded, understanding all too well. Who knew where these children would end up when this mission was over? Teaching them a game that needed nothing more than colored stones and a grid scratched in the dirt would allow them to play almost anywhere. Chess pieces might be harder to come by.

She frowned, hating the thought that these children might never have a real childhood – time to play and learn and go to school... She knew what that was like. After the disaster at Arvada, she and her grandmother had spent almost every moment trying simply to survive... with no time for games or school. It wasn't until after the rescue that she had been given a chance to regain a normal childhood – but by then, the damage had been done.

As it had been done to these children, she thought – then reminded herself that she had survived – and, she admitted, done well. A career, the respect of her colleagues – even, she added, the thought that she had helped people live and survive and go on to make their own place in the universe. Adversity had made her the person she was, for good – and for ill.

"Doctor?" Data said quietly. "Are you all right?"

Beverly stared, pulled from her reverie – then smiled at the android. "Just tired, Data. I should be on my way to Sickbay – and then I'll take a rest."

"And I shall relieve Tiron," Data said.

Worf nodded his approval at the plan, then moved to one of the little tables, easing his bulk into the tiny chairs.

Despite her sober thoughts, Beverly couldn't help but smile as she looked at the large man, his knees pushed up toward his shoulders as he placed the board on the table and set out two small bowls of black and white stones.

It couldn't have been comfortable, she thought, and she suspected he'd be a patient of hers the next day, looking for some relief from a backache – but he made no indication of any pain he might have been feeling.

She turned to the door – then realized Data was waiting for her.

It was clear to her that he wanted to talk with her – but even so, the two stepped into the hall without a word.

"Penny?" she said at long last.

He stopped, facing her, a confused look on his face. "Doctor?"

Beverly smiled. "It's something I used to say to the captain... to Jean-Luc. And old Earth phrase. 'A penny for your thoughts?' It's an invitation to share whatever's on your mind," she furthered. "To talk about whatever may be bothering you."

Something Jean-Luc and I haven't done for a long time, she added to herself. When did we stop talking to each other? When did everything – and everyone - else become more important than we were?

Or was that one reason you invited me to join you on Samarassia? To try to rebuild those connections we've let fall apart.

"Ah!" Data said, drawing her attention back to the present, but his soft utterance made it clear that while he understood her words, the nature of the phrase failed to register completely.

To Beverly's infinite relief, however, he didn't press for the etymology of the phrase – which, she realized, simply indicated how concerned he was about his brother.

"You're worried about B-4," she said.

He nodded.

"I wouldn't be, Data. He's doing quite well with the children..."

"It is not his behavior with the children that concerns me, Doctor..."

"Beverly."

He raised a brow. "Doctor?"

"Beverly, Data; my name is Beverly. We're not on duty – God knows this mission would never be sanctioned by Starfleet! – but more than that, we've known each other, worked with each other, for more than twenty years. I think we can be a little less formal with each other," she said.

He frowned uncertainly, then tried, "Beverly."

She smiled brightly. "See? It's not that hard."

"It is not hard; it is simply a matter of reprogramming," he said, "which I have now done. But that is part of my quandary. I am able to analyze situations and reprogram myself to accommodate the changing parameters. B-4, on the other hand, cannot."

"So that's what's bothering you. You can learn – and from that learning, change – but B-4 can't," she said, understanding. "But Data, learning – whether it's through education and an application of that learning in a real world environment or by a change in programming – is possible. These children are evidence of that."

"Yes," he agreed quietly. "But B-4 has not changed. I have been gone four years – and in that time, there seems to be no evidence of any learning on his part. He is as he was then; my memory engrams have made no difference in his persona. Doctor... Beverly... I do not know if B-4 is capable of learning, of being more than he is now," he said slowly.

Beverly drew in a long breath, then let it out with a sigh. "I... understand. Even with humans and other species, there are children born who have a limited or altered perception of the world around them – and despite all types of intervention, that barrier is never broken.

"I don't know how far Jean-Luc has pursued having B-4's abilities assessed or having any programming alterations performed," she said. "But even if there is nothing that can be done to help B-4, that doesn't mean that his life is not without merit or fulfillment," she added. "B-4 may not be the type of android you are, Data, but he is himself. I understand your wanting more for him – but you may need to accept that that may not be possible. Harder still may be your coming to accept that even if change is possible, B-4 may not want it."

"But how will we know?" he asked rhetorically.

She sighed again. "We can't know. We can only know what he can tell us and hope that somehow we manage to provide him with what he needs – and wants."

Data nodded slowly. "Then the burden is upon me to try to find a way to communicate with him, and to try to provide him with the highest level of learning and understanding – and survival – of which he is capable."

She looked at him, a puzzled expression crossing her face. "Survival, Data? You make it sound as though you won't be with him."

"That is possible, Doctor. My lifespan as Dr. Soongh's creation was estimated at ten thousand years – and yet I survived for less than half a century. I have not investigated Geordi's construction of my power systems, but even assuming he managed to replicate Dr. Soongh's work, my own experience has taught me that life can be fleeting, ending without notice or planning.

"Given his current level of development, I do not expect B-4 to ever encounter a situation such as the one I faced – and therefore, I must assume his lifespan will be extended – and perhaps far in excess of my own. If I cannot find a way to help him become capable of survival on his own, I will have to find a way to care for him – and for a period far greater than anyone can anticipate," he said.

"After we resolve the issue of the Chiemma, I would not expect B-4 to return to be with the admiral," he said. "Though it was generous in the extreme, it was an act born, I think, more from a misbegotten sense of duty than of reason," he pointed out.

Beverly shook her head. "If you're suggesting Jean-Luc felt guilty about you dying, and that's why he kept B-4 with him, then you're correct – in part. But only in part. After a little while, he became genuinely fond of B-4 – and," she added quietly, "I think he – like B-4 – was a little lonely. They were – are – good for each other."

"I understand," Data concurred. "But you must agree that B-4 could not remain as the admiral's companion for much longer. Captain Riker detailed the machinations required to allow the admiral to participate on the dig – to wit, finding someone to care for B-4 while he was away. How much more difficult would that become as the admiral aged, and wished to engage in more activities where B-4 could not be involved – and," he added, "in time, when the admiral was no longer capable of caring for him."

Beverly gave a rough laugh. "Data, you make it sound like Jean-Luc is ancient. He's only in his eighties – he still has years ahead of him!"

The android looked back, aware of his mistake in making the remark – and hearing the genuine concern in her voice. "I was not suggesting the admiral was facing an imminent demise, Doctor," he hastily explained. "Only that in comparison to B-4's projected duration of functionality, his... time upon this mortal coil was brief," he tried.

She gave a surprise look. "Poetry, Data?" she asked.

"I had thought to spend my free time reviewing the technical literature and political updates of events that have transpired since my passing," he explained. "To my surprise, however, I found myself drawn instead to reading... simply for the sake of reading – and I have found myself quite enjoying poetry. There is no benefit or gain in doing so – and yet, I place that of greater import than reading technical journals. I believe that my death and subsequent resurrection has altered my priorities." He gave her a quizzical look. "Is that an untoward response to death, do you think?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I think dying, Data, gives one carte blanche to reprioritize everything," she said with a smile. "But there's nothing that says you have to die to figure it all out," she added, as much to herself as to him.

"And that is what you have done?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think so. I hope so," she added. "I'm just hoping that by the time we get these children to new world, and find a way to help them grow up safe and healthy, that it's not too late for me to act on my priorities – preferably without dying first," she added with a smile.

"And speaking of priorities," she continued, "I want to go check on the girls – and I think the children are probably waiting for Tiron to join them for a few games before dinner. I'll see you later?" she added.

Data nodded, then turned, heading for the lift even as she turned for the entrance to Sickbay.

The girls, rescuing the Chiemma and finding them a home – and then you, Jean-Luc, she thought to herself.

It's taken me half a lifetime to figure out what – and who - was important; now I want to spend the rest of my life doing something about it.

I just hope it's not too late to start.