Chapter Nine

Creating such a plan was not going to be an easy task, however. Alice 322 and Herman 37 had joined them in Norman's workshop, with the latter uncharacteristically vague as to the reasons for the other androids' presence. It seemed that this particular multitronic being, at least, was capable of forming friendships. At first glance, even Data had thought the members of a given series – even the entire android population as a whole – to be virtually identical, but the more he observed them the more he noticed small marks of individuality. Some displayed more curiosity than others, for example, while others had different physical mannerisms. Alice 322 demonstrated the former; even in her default resting state something about her stance hinted at a certain ongoing alertness to her surroundings that Alice 118, for instance, had entirely lacked – something for which Data was grateful, given the earlier circumstances.

In any case, Data could only be glad of the help. Though the androids here did not have the computing power he possessed, each being roughly equivalent to the Enterprise's main computer, there were over 200,000 of them working together, and as Norman had said, that made them a force to be reckoned with. Even so, the more they worked to define the problem, the less sure Data was that his tentative plan would work, and even the most impressive display of brainpower could not create new options where there were none.

The fundamental problem was one of resources. Maddox and everyone else on the planet could draw on the entire power of Starfleet if necessary. Any rebellion among the androids could be dealt with swiftly and efficiently – one of Starfleet's first actions here had been to add security measures that would overload cybernetic systems without causing permanent damage. Though Starfleet was not nearly as concerned with the androids' survival, they were still considered valuable assets and not to be wasted. Equally, neither side wanted to risk serious damage to the outpost, each for their own reasons.

But the fact that neither side wanted a pitched battle did not necessarily mean that one would be avoided. Starfleet would not mind sacrificing a considerable number of the androids if it meant that the remainder would be easier to handle – they only needed to keep enough intact to experiment on. It was useful to have the androids to supervise the creation of cybernetic troops, but not essential.

As they talked, Data wished more than ever that Maya was there, and not only for himself. She was intelligent and practical, a brilliant engineer, and though there were several aspects of human behavior that she had often professed not to understand – what she had once awkwardly referred to as 'courtship rituals', for instance – he felt sure that she would have some valuable insight into Maddox's behavior. Perhaps what they needed more than computing power was an entirely human, marvelously unexpected flash of inspiration, which was the one thing all the androids lacked.

Though he stood calmly enough with the others – here where the androids were much more common, niceties such as chairs were few and far between – Data was also beginning to feel the urge to fidget. Pacing was not a human habit he had picked up, at least not yet, but now he understood the desire to feel that one was doing something, however pointless.

"It – is an insoluble problem," Alice 322 was saying, while Herman 37 nodded, a gesture that looked far more fluid from him than it did in most of the others.

"We are – too heavily outnumbered. The humans will destroy us here if we rebel. If we do not rebel, they – will send us to be destroyed by the Dominion. We – have discussed this many times," he added, with a glance at Norman that was tinged with frustration. "And now we have very little time left before – the commander begins to send us to fight."

"Problems of this nature often allow only for less desirable options," Data said. "But I do not believe it to be insoluble."

"Then – what is the solution?" Alice asked.

"There are outside factors to be considered. This facility has been kept secret from all but a very few people. If its existence were to be made generally known, public opinion will very likely have an effect on what Starfleet does next."

"You believe that – humans will help save us from other humans?" Alice asked, deeply skeptical.

"Yes, if the information is presented correctly. There is a certain... psychology involved."

Had Herman been capable of scoffing, he would have done so. "Psychology – is not science."

"No," Data agreed. "There are many factors that will be difficult to predict with any precision. But I have lived among humans since I was created, and I believe I have begun to understand them. Humanoids in general and humans in particular are extremely varied. There are many who will not agree with what Starfleet has done here. They will be on our side."

"But – even if they wish to help us, how will they be able to do so?" Herman asked.

"Small groups of humans can sometimes wield a great deal of influence. It is... not a quantifiable phenomenon," Data admitted, "but I have seen its effects many times. If we contact the correct individuals in the correct way, I believe this will work."

Having been unusually silent for a time, Norman now spoke up. "Your friend will help us with this," he said, not quite a question.

"Yes. This is part of how I intend to confront Commander Maddox, if you agree. First I will attempt to convince him to abandon his work here," Data said, despite being nearly as doubtful as the others about the chances of that happening. "If this is not possible, then I will send my friend a record of everything that I have observed here. Starfleet is only a part of the Federation. There are planetary leaders, ambassadors, scientists – a wide range of Federation citizens who will likely protest once they have all the facts. My friend will know how best to present these facts."

"You – trust him to do this?"

"Absolutely," Data replied, without hesitation. "He has already risked a great deal to help me – to help all of us. If Maddox does not agree to stop his work, then my friend will release the information." It felt strange, so carefully avoiding Arzin's name, but his career and possibly his freedom was in the balance. Data had to be exceptionally careful, since he feared Arzin would not be. "There are also certain potential problems with releasing the news of your existence to the Federation at large, but I believe they will be manageable."

Again Norman was silent for a time, then nodded. "We will attempt this plan. We – must do all we can to avoid any fighting."

"Why must we?" Herman put in. "We – owe the humans nothing. There must be a way to circumvent that part of our programming."

"There is. But we will not do so," Norman replied firmly. "The humans – are ignorant of our society. They do not fully understand us. But we – no longer have the same excuse in regards to them."

"They – will be our destruction," Herman said, in a surprisingly gloomy tone.

"I will do my utmost to prevent that from happening," Data said, and if Herman was not at all reassured by this, at least the other two seemed to take some comfort. "However, since there are uncertainties involved in both of these courses of action, it would be wise to decide on a third option.

"What is this – third option?" Norman asked, tilting his head.

"I am not yet certain," Data admitted, suddenly struck by a feeling that he could only describe as exhaustion – some form of psychological tiredness that was still unfamiliar to him. Perhaps he was acquiring some measure of the human need for rest, though at the moment all he could think of was the inconvenience that would cause. "I will study the matter further."

"We – should return to work so that nothing is suspected," Norman said. "Data, you may remain here to plan, if you wish."

"Thank you," Data said sincerely, looking forward to the chance of peace and quiet in a way he never had before. "I will contact you once I have spoken to Commander Maddox."

"Alice will be in the main monitoring center. She – will know where to find me."

After the others had left, Data did something he had rarely done before: sought out a chair for himself. Though he knew there was nothing actually wrong with his systems – he'd been unable to resist running a basic diagnostic – he had decided to take a brief 'nap' before confronting either Maddox or a backup plan. It might be all in his head and highly unscientific, something Herman would scoff at, but if a few minutes in low power mode might give him any possible advantage, he was willing to try it.

Though he could easily have performed the experiment standing up, the chair seemed more appropriate. And activating his low power mode did give a feeling of relief, despite also bringing a certain apprehension. Since the emotion chip, his dreams had been... unpredictable. This also meant they were more human, based on his research, but he had not found this very encouraging, especially not while he was dreaming.


This dream begins innocuously enough, as he finds himself walking through the corridors of the Enterprise. Aware that he has a destination, he does not know what that destination might be until he arrives, entering Maya's quarters as though he is expected.

But the room beyond the doors is not part of Maya's quarters, nor does he see any sign of her at first. Instead, one of his own memories plays out before him, a scene he has recalled quite recently, though he realizes at once that this is not why he is dreaming of it. This is the inspiration he has been hoping for, and he nods wonderingly as he watches.

Then Maya is there, suddenly next to him in the way of dreams, and he forgets the memory-play entirely, turning to gaze at her. Though he has sensed her presence in every dream he has had since installing the chip, he has seen her only twice before now, and never for long. And she has never spoken a word, hardly looked at him, and each time he has woken more bereft than before.

After a beat, she turns to face him, and a faint smile drifts across his face. "I know what to do now," he says, and it is her turn to smile.

But she is still silent and her smile fades. He starts to reach out to her, but some instinct stops him. "I wish you would speak to me," he says, his voice breaking.

A shadow crosses her face and she seems about to weep. "Please, do not be upset. I know this is only a dream. You are not... really here."

Now tears do fall and she hangs her head, a display of emotion such as Data has never seen from her before. Even if she is only a dream, he feels as though his heart is breaking. "Do not cry. There – there may be a way to bring you back. We... can be together."

Though she seems no calmer, she does look up at him, a sliver of hope on her face, and he hurries to reassure her further. "Norman has agreed to help us. He is creating an android body for you, and he knows how to transfer memories safely. It will work, it must." Now he is only reassuring himself, if not very successfully. "It will be all right."

But there is still so much grief in her eyes – grief and fear, he realizes, and he feels a stab of guilt. If she is only his dream, why can he not dream of her happy and content, of the two of them together at last? And yet she seems so real; perhaps there is more here after all than a mere dream image, however impossible that seems. "It will be all right. I will finally have the chance to save you."

Maya shakes her head – only the tiniest movement, but still more of a reply than she has ever made to him in these dreams – and he is certain that she is trying to tell him not to blame himself. Even this small response seems to cost her something, however, for she grows pale and now Data is as frightened as she is. "No," he whispers, and she quickly moves forward, stretching up to embrace him.

He opens his arms to hold her close, or tries to. Instead, she fades away the instant her face brushes against his, and he feels only the faintest whisper of a touch. "No," he says again, quietly and desperately, standing frozen in place, willing her to reappear.

But nothing happens. Everything is just as it was, his memory still playing out before him. He wants to shout at it to stop, feeling the same frustration he had felt long ago, when he was first realizing the depths of his loss – all his losses – and wondering how the universe could simply continue on as though nothing had changed.

Finally he straightens up, glancing dully once more at the scene before him. He has the plan he wished for, but at the moment this is no comfort. If Norman does not succeed... But he cannot think of this now. Now there is nothing to do but wake up.


As often happened, it took him a moment to recall that he was not aboard the Enterprise. At first he'd thought this was a fault in the emotion chip, or perhaps some difficulty with integrating the new programming into his systems. Several diagnostics had finally led him to conclude that it was simply a natural side-effect of the vividness emotions had brought, to his dreams and his memories. Though he was incapable of forgetting or inadvertently altering a single detail of his life, everything he remembered – about Maya or anything else – was now irrevocably changed by the way he felt.

And now he had to focus on the present. With Starfleet no longer an option he was unsure of where he would go next, but whatever happened next would shape the rest of his life.

The walk to reach Norman helped to clear his thoughts, at least. The need for perspective was something he'd come to understand some time ago and had tried to make a habit of attaining – logical reasoning alone was not always the way to solve a problem, however unlikely that had seemed to him at first – but now he struggled for it, wondering if anything he was doing here would ever be viewed as right by anyone else. Perhaps he was too close to this situation after all. And now he could not help but think of Maya more often than he should. After being in an uneasy limbo for so long, she might be able to come back to him... or, if something went wrong, she would be lost forever. There was no middle ground.

A very brief conversation with Norman sufficed to explain Data's intentions, fortunately. This was the main flaw in his disguise; none of the other androids required anything so primitive as speech to communicate with their leader, instead doing so directly through their network for anything beyond the most basic interaction. Data envied them this connection, which made them as efficient as the Borg with none of the ruthlessness, but his systems were too different to allow him to experience it.

Now he was as prepared as he could be to face Maddox, though even so Data found himself hesitating. He was used to having allies, beings who fully understood emotion and could help him to deal with the effects of those emotions. This time, for the most important encounter of his life, he was alone, and it weighed on him even more than he had expected. But this task had to fall to him. He could not help Maya now, and must count on Norman to do so, just as Norman was depending on Data. And with that thought, he turned his steps towards Maddox's office.