Chapter Seven

The transformation of Data into just another member of the Oscar series had taken some time, but once they were finished Norman had pronounced it to be an acceptable disguise. Though Data could not see the effect, he felt different just the same, in a way he could not pinpoint. It was not only the emotions this brought to the surface, though they were certainly a factor – there was fear and trepidation, even nervous excitement, but beneath all that was something else that eluded his every attempt to define it.

At least it would be easy to keep these roiling emotions from showing in his new face. Norman had somewhat apologetically explained that the faceplate was of lesser quality, lacking many of the interface points for which Data was designed and thus severely limiting his range of expressions. At the moment, however, this was an extremely useful limitation, as it allowed Data to look out at his first glimpse of the manufacturing facility with at least the appearance of complete calm.

The main area was a vast space, nearly a mile below the planet's surface. Despite its size and the even, bright lighting, it felt oppressive, reminiscent of catacombs, designed for death instead of creation. Androids were stationed at crucial points to monitor the process, but aside from the hum of machinery the entire structure was utterly silent – no fidgeting, not even the occasional exchange of words, since there was no need for Norman's people to speak to communicate with each other. Without a sound, they created more beings like themselves to fight a war they knew nothing about.

At its top speed – Norman had explained this with what seemed an uneasy mixture of pride and despair – the facility could generate five hundred androids in three months. Programming speeds varied depending on the exact capabilities desired, but the knowledge of military tactics and starship operations required by Starfleet added another five to six days to the process. If the experiment was deemed successful for standard troops, then they would attempt to add specialists such as medics and repair teams.

Did Starfleet intend to fill entire starships with android crews? Data wondered. It seemed unlikely that they intended anything on that scale, something which would almost certainly raise ethical questions and attract protests, but according to Norman their plans seemed to be to keep production at its maximum level for the foreseeable future. That hinted that the upper echelons of Starfleet were unconcerned with protests and attention, perhaps reasoning that regaining the upper hand in the war would silence any complaints.

Data thought of the legal struggle that Captain Picard had gone through, with Data's very existence at stake, to codify and formalize the rights of sentient, artificial life forms. That struggle had been a turning point, and yet it meant nothing here, perhaps not anywhere. Perhaps it had been decided that it was simply not possible for these androids to reach sentience, and such laws would never apply to them. Perhaps the law would never recognize another like him.

With an effort, Data turned his attention back to the practical. His disguise was extremely useful, certainly, but he could not afford to let his mind wander too far. And he was genuinely interested in the androids' construction. Physically, it was easy to see that they were quite similar. There were, after all, only so many designs that would allow for a humanlike appearance and range of motion. Their cybernetic systems, however, were fundamentally different, with these androids utilizing processors more on a par with a starship's computers than Data's own systems. They would be capable of impressive computing speeds and basic logical reasoning, but with no known instances of anything like sentience ever having developed.

Saddened by this thought – more so than he had anticipated – Data watched in silence for a time as they paused in the area where the initial skeletal frameworks were created. It was an interesting process, but it only depressed Data further. This form of construction was deeply impersonal, fundamentally unlike the way Soong had created his children, or the way Data himself had created Lal. How could any being be expected to thrive, to reach its full potential, after such a beginning and in such an environment?

As though reading his thoughts, Norman ventured a question as they began to walk again. "You – were not mass-produced?"

"No. My father created only five androids, and not all of us functioned correctly." He thought of Lore, but had no wish to talk about his brother and continued in more general terms. "Our systems run on a positronic matrix. They are extremely difficult to stabilize and it took my father some time to perfect the process."

"Positronic systems are – most efficient."

"Thank you," Data said, for it was clear that Norman meant this as the highest praise. "But your own systems – they are not duotronic?" It seemed far too intrusive a question, but the other android took it in stride.

"No. My systems are most similar to what you would call multitronic."

"Ah!" Data exclaimed with sudden understanding, and renewed hope. "Those, too, can be difficult to stabilize. But they provide much more speed and flexibility than duotronics."

"At least one unit – being – in each facility is always a multitronic model, to act as a control center for the others. They are not – as advanced individually, but as a group mind... they have a great deal of potential. But the humans do not see this."

This time, Data felt sure that he was right to sense at least one emotion in Norman's tone: bitterness. "Not all humans are like the ones you have met here," Data assured him. "They are an extremely varied species. I have had the good fortune to meet many humans who have not only accepted, but welcomed me into their lives."

Stopping abruptly, Norman looked at him with something approaching suspicion, even anger. "All the humans we have encountered here have either – used us, or tricked us. Your maker was different, but other humans are not like him." There he paused, guilt seeming to strike him. "But – we were at fault as well. We did not understand the humans, and – in the end, I allowed this to happen. I followed my programming too blindly. We were designed to serve – but that was in a very different time and place. My makers were very different."

"How long ago did your makers die?"

"Many centuries ago. Approximately 2,000 of your years." Again he paused, and Data could not guess at all the emotions that seemed to flicker across Norman's face. "The universe – has changed a great deal since then."

Usually completely unconcerned with chronological age, Data felt suddenly very young. He hesitated a moment, considering his words. "I am sure that it has. But I do not believe that all such changes must necessarily have been for the worse. However strange it may seem to you now, Norman, I assure you that there are many, humans and humanoids alike, who would accept you as an equal... and a friend."

"An equal." He considered this statement carefully, though it was clear he was unable to shake his doubts. "There is something I found in the Federation database – a regulation called the Prime Directive. It is an important law?"

Shame was an emotion that was beginning to feel uncomfortably familiar. "Very important," he said quietly.

"But it has not been applied to us. Because we are not – a true society?"

"According to the Federation's own laws, it should be applied equally to every society, regardless of its origins," Data replied, gravely. "What is happening here is wrong."

"But – how can it be stopped?"

For a long moment Data was silent, reluctant to admit his own uncertainty. "I do not know."

"Your friends -" Norman said, still seeming to find the word awkward. "The humans. Do they know you are here?"

"One of my friends does," Data replied. "Though he is not a human, he is a Trill."

Norman tilted his head, again accessing his memory banks. "The symbiotic species."

"Yes. I could not have managed without him. He helped me to obtain a small scout ship and is waiting there for me to signal him before he returns," he added, though that was in fact only one of the possible scenarios the two of them had discussed. "But I believe any of my friends would have been glad to assist me in this, had I asked it of them."

Now the other android seemed more wistful than doubtful. "Tell me," he said, abruptly. "What is it – like – to have friends?"

Searching for words, Data finally had to shake his head. "I am not certain I could explain it properly. My friends aboard the Enterprise were like a family to me. We spent a great deal of time together. We held regular poker games, for example."

"Describe – a poker game."


Commander Riker and Counselor Troi arrive at Data's quarters for the game and are surprised to find Maya there. Troi greets her with a smile as Riker speaks up. "Lieutenant Palmer. Will you be joining us tonight?"

"No, sir, I'm still learning how to play," she replies, only a fraction short of standing at attention.

Riker smiles and shakes his head. "At ease, lieutenant. This is a friendly game."

"For the most part," Troi chimes in, wryly, taking a seat.

"I have been teaching Lieutenant Palmer the game," Data explains, setting the cards on the table. "I thought that observing one of our sessions might be of help. There are several aspects of the game that are best learned through experience, as you know." The door chimes again and this time Worf and Geordi enter at Data's invitation.

"Hey, Maya, are you ready to join in?" Geordi asks with a smile, though she looks faintly alarmed at the prospect and shakes her head.

"Maya would like to observe a few hands first," Data puts in. "If that is agreeable to everyone, of course."

"She will not be observing my hand," Worf says at once, then glances over at Maya. "No offense."

"None taken, lieutenant," she replies, nearly as much at attention as ever. "I'll just sit behind Commander Data, if that's all right."

"You sure you want to take that risk, Data?" Riker asks, hiding a smile. "A novice, watching you play your hand? She might give everything away."

Geordi laughs at this. "Maya, give anything away? Not a chance."

Data glances over at her, and she gazes back at him steadily and expressionlessly. "I believe that I may safely trust to the lieutenant's 'poker face', Commander," he says, turning back to Riker.

He finally grins. "Maybe you can at that," he says, lowering himself into his chair.

The group settles in for the first hand, Maya perching on a stool behind Data as he deals. "This hand will be Texas Hold-Em. You remember this variation?" he adds to Maya.

"Yes, I remember," she says, absently, watching carefully as the hand plays out. If Riker does hope to learn anything through her, however, he is disappointed, for she neither fidgets nor changes expression.

After three rounds, only Data and Riker remain, with the first officer growing hesitant, eyeing the two tens showing in the river. "I was sure you were bluffing, but maybe you do have another ten after all," he muses, taking one last look at Maya before sighing and shaking his head. "Fold," he says, grudgingly, tossing his cards out into the center and revealing only a pair of sevens.

Data nods once and begins to rake in the chips. "An excellent example of 'the art of the bluff', Commander," he remarks. "Thank you."

Riker shakes his head. "I don't know why you're thanking me, I'm beginning to think you did a lot more bluffing this time around," he grumbles, though not entirely seriously.

Troi leans forward. "Data, I have to know: Did you have another ten?"

Data hesitates, then gathers up his cards, leaving them face down. "I believe, Counselor, that I shall exercise my right to keep that knowledge to myself."

"But Maya knows," Troi realizes, turning hopefully to the lieutenant. "I don't suppose you could – ?"

Already shaking her head, Maya replies, "I'm sorry, counselor, I couldn't possibly. I promised the commander."

Pleased, Data turns to her and nods in acknowledgment. "Thank you, lieutenant."

"You're welcome, sir."

"Why do they sound like an old married couple?" Riker asks of no one in particular, much to Data's confusion.

"I do not know. Why would we sound like an old married couple when we are not married?" he asks, looking around the table.

"I think the commander just means that we sound like we've known each other a long time," Maya ventures.

"But I have known you for less time than anyone else in this room. Though of course there have been several occasions when we have worked closely together on various experiments, and-"

"Why don't we talk about this later, Data?" Maya puts in, quickly.

Data tilts his head, then nods, quickly gathering up all the cards. "As you wish," he replies, passing the deck to Worf for the next deal.

"You know, you're right, Commander, they do sound like an old married couple," Geordi says, chuckling.

"This is how you know you've been accepted into this group, Maya," Troi says reassuringly. "When no one has any qualms about teasing you."

"I have found it is best to ignore them," Worf says, firmly, shuffling the cards and offering them to Geordi to cut. "This hand will be five card draw. Nothing is wild."

"As usual when Worf is dealing," Troi remarks.

"Five card draw is a warrior's game," he replies, with absolute seriousness.

When the evening ends, Riker is the winner, though not by much, Data having managed to succeed with several other fairly impressive hands. Maya lingers after the others leave, helping to clean up cards and chips.

"Did you find the evening instructive?" Data asks.

"Yes, I think so. I'm not sure I'll ever be very good at deciding when someone's bluffing, though."

"That has always been difficult for me as well," he admits, putting the lid on the box where he keeps the cards. "I believe I have improved recently, but is a skill that only experience can teach."

"I suppose so." She pauses, distracted, then takes a step closer to him. "Data..."

"Yes?" He turns to face her, head tilted in mild curiosity.

Again she hesitates, then smiles faintly. "I wanted to thank you for inviting me. I wasn't sure that I'd enjoy it, but I did."

"I am glad. I enjoyed it as well. Though there is one thing..."

"What?" she asks, tensing faintly.

"I am still perplexed by Commander Riker's reference to 'an old married couple'. It does not seem an apt comparison, yet Geordi agreed with him."

Still slightly tense, she answers carefully. "That was partly just teasing. And partly... well, maybe the commander just noticed that we seem – comfortable with each other."

Though she seems uncertain as she says this, Data's face immediately clears. "Ah! Yes, you have remarked that you find it easier to be relaxed around me than you do with many others. I believe I understand now."

"I'm glad I could help clear that up." She smiles again, reaching out to rest a hand lightly on his shoulder before realizing what she's done and slowly pulling her hand away. "Sorry, I – I'd better get some sleep. Early shift tomorrow."

Accepting this at face value, as he always does, Data simply nods. "Of course. Good night, Maya."


"These people – are all your friends?" Norman asks, wonderingly.

"Yes. Geordi is my best friend, though they are all, as I said, like a family. I miss them," he said, only then realizing just how true that statement was. "We do not all serve together any longer. And Maya -" He broke off, feeling the all too familiar reluctance to speak of her death.

"You – care for her," Norman said, apparently accepting that possibility as completely natural, and Data looked at him in surprise.

"Very much," he replied, his voice uncertain, and he braced himself to explain further. "She – she was... killed. In a battle that was a prelude to the very war that your people are meant to fight in now. I – I wanted to save her."

For the briefest of instants she smiles the slight, wry smile he has seen so often. Her fingers tighten on his and she draws another strained breath to speak. But instead she sighs and is still. He watches the light fade from her gaze, feels her hand slip from his.

He waits for grief, but there is nothing there.

"I'm sorry, Data," Crusher says quietly.

He does not turn to look at her, still studying Maya's face. "May I have a moment, Doctor?"

"Of course," she replies at once, disappearing back into the Sickbay proper.

Gently, Data takes Maya's hand in both of his for a moment, remembering what he has learned of human gestures of affection. She is beyond all such gestures now, yet somehow he feels it is the right thing to do. Then his movements become swift and purposeful, one hand reaching for a cortical stimulator while the other opens a panel on the side of his head.

This seemed to surprise Norman, or at least intrigue him. "You – performed a synaptic scan – to preserve her consciousness?" he said, and Data nodded, relieved that the other android seemed to understand instinctively.

"I – could not think of anything else to do. She loved me, and I – I could not love her. Not then. I did not yet have the emotion chip installed. It seemed – unfair simply to allow her to die. So I acted... on impulse," he added, still slightly surprised at himself even after all this time.

But Norman was only nodding at this torrent of words, as though this was all entirely expected. "You did not wish for her to be lost – as all humanoids must eventually be. I can help you."

This statement seemed completely irrelevant, and for an instant Data could only stare in confusion. "Help me? In what way?"

"My own systems, like those you call multitronics, are designed to mimic the behavior of biological brain waves," Norman explained. "This allows us to download humanoid minds into cybernetic bodies. We will do this for your friend, if you wish."

This idea was not entirely a new one, of course. First with Lal's memories, then with Maya's, Data had considered and rejected similar possibilities, aware that such a transference should not be attempted lightly. Both sets of memories could most safely be placed into another positronic matrix, but the creation of another such matrix was still beyond his skills. Maya's memories in particular had begun to feel more and more fragile to him, and though he had no objective proof of that, the chance that it was true, that they were degrading somehow, terrified him. Yet every option he had considered for transferring the memories he carried had been deemed too likely to damage or even destroy them, and that was a possibility he could not bear.

Multitronic systems had limited use in the Federation, being considered too unstable, and none of Data's own variations on them had shown promise. Yet here was a cybernetic being based on a system very similar to those, a being that had existed in stable form for two thousand years, and this same being was calmly telling him that it was possible to bring Maya back.

"You – have done this before?" Data asked, feeling the strange, unnecessary urge to sit down..

"Most commonly we have transferred humanoid brains into cybernetic forms, but the downloading of memories only has also been performed, yes – many times over the centuries. The procedure is lengthy and must be monitored closely, but it is not particularly complex."

"There would be no damage to the memories?"

"There has never been in the past – though in all other cases it was a direct transference from the humanoid mind. In this instance -" Here Norman hesitated and Data found himself fighting the urge to shout at the other android, to beg him to hurry and explain. "There may be different issues that would arise in a transfer from a positronic matrix. I would need to study your systems more closely – to be certain."

Then noise intruded, both androids detecting faint footsteps in the distance, quickly drawing closer, and Norman motioned for silence. Data thought he had felt frustration before, but this moment proved that he was only now realizing the full depths of that emotion.

"An inspection," Norman said, uneasily. "They have happened more often of late." He ordered one of the Annabel series away from her post, allowing Data to stand at a monitor screen for extra camouflage. The need to conceal himself, so important a few minutes ago, now seemed only another vexation, a trivial thing keeping him from the answers he needed.

A few moments later, a group of four humanoids came into view. Two were deeply involved in a technical conversation, while an Andorian, apparently the least senior member of the delegation, paused now and then to check readouts and make notes on a datapad. It was the fourth member of the group, however, clearly the person in charge, who instantly caught Data's attention. He was not of remarkable appearance for a human – of average height and build, he was light-skinned with dark brown hair – but it wasn't until Norman made a cautioning gesture with his hand that Data realized he was staring at the man.

It was Commander Bruce Maddox.