Captain's log, stardate 42437.5. An emergency aboard the Constantinople has diverted the Enterprise from responding to a distress call from Gravesworld, the isolated home of cybernetics genius Ira Graves. Lieutenant Selar, our second most senior medical officer, has agreed to join the away team in a long-distance teleport to attend Doctor Graves while Doctor Crusher oversees the treatment of as many as two thousand colonists.
Soriana very nearly vomited as she finally felt the press of the air return. The transporter trip had seemed to take a long time, and at one point she felt as though her cells were merged with solid matter.
But moments after concluding that the four of them - android, Klingon, Vulcan, and Haliian - were all accounted-for, the telepath focused on the two new minds that entered her awareness. The first was tired, apprehensive, and smothering alarm to focus on optimism at their arrival - clearly the young woman approaching them.
The second was powerful, willful, violently angry, and, underneath all of that, desperately afraid. Even while addressing the young woman, Soriana kept most of her mental attention on the second mind.
"You heard me!" The woman greeted them. "Thank God. I'm Kareen Brianon, Doctor Graves' assistant."
"We're from the starship Enterprise," Soriana said. "We received your distress call. Hiw can we help?"
"You can turn right around," came the voice of a very old human male as he entered the room, "and return to your ship. Everything is fine." Soriana felt the strength of his denial in his lie - he was ill and he knew it.
"Everything is not fine," Kareen insisted, as much to (presumably) Ira Graves as to them. "I won't let you keep deteriorating, Doctor. I won't just stand by and watch."
"What symptoms have you noticed?" Selar asked, her medical tricorder in hand.
"He has pain, shortness of breath, irritability…"
"Ridiculous! I'm as healthy as a Rigelian ox!" the man lied transparently.
Kareen shook her head in dispair. "He's not himself, believe me. His temper is completely out of control."
"Nonsense!" Graves shouted.
"Ira!" Kareen rebuked back.
"I am a doctor. Lieutenant Selar," the Vulcan introduced herself.
Graves backed away, arms up, as though warding off an offensive presence. "No offense, but I don't want you touching me in any way. It's no secret that I don't like people much, and I like doctors even less."
"Doctors aren't people?" Soriana gave the obvious straight line.
"Certainly not ask any patient." Graves had an abrupt shift of mood, but underneath he was still seething, putting up defenses. "Although I will admit, for a doctor you're not a bad looking woman." He redirected his gaze to Soriana, and she felt his defense mechanisms slide tightly into place. "Well, well, well, what have we got here? Another lovely specimen of womanhood." He put out a hand, which she placed hers in and allowed her to kiss.
"Soriana Turhal. And you must be Ira Graves."
"Indeed I am." She smiled at her, but she felt his mind quickly flitting elsewhere even as anger and fear warred inside him with equal measure.
"Excuse me, sir," Kareen addressed Worf. "What species are you?"
"He's a Klingon, Kareen," Graves jumped in. "Kareen has lived here since her father died when she was very young. Her only knowledge of unhuman races comes from me. Klingons are quite aggressive, Kareen. Keep your distance."
"Doctor," Worf growled. "I am a Starfleet officer. I am not in the habit of attacking civilians."
"Of course not, mister Klingon. No offense meant. I didn't know there were Klingons in Starfleet."
"I am the only one." He radiated pride when he said it.
"That fits. And I take it you're the only one of your kind in Starfleet, too?" The old man hobbled over to get a closer look at Data, and Soriana was almost knocked back by the intense emotions. Excitement, and… greed. Yes, Data had something that Graves desperately wanted.
"I am Lieutenant Commander Data-"
"Shush," Graves cut him off. "You're every bit as ugly as Soong, but in even worse colors. You're his work?"
"Yes sir," Data confirmed. "You knew my creator, Doctor Noonien Soong?"
"Know him?!" Ira chortled. "I taught him everything he knows. You could say that I was the father of his work. Which kind of makes me your grandfather, doesn't it sonny?" He rounded on Selar, consulting her medical readings at his back. "Damn doctors! Always sneaking up on one. Attacking from the rear. Go on, gorgeous. Spit it out. Whatever the hell it is, I can take it."
"I've checked twice to make certain," Selar pronounced with Vulcan placidity. "You have Darnay's disease. It's in it's final stage." There was no surprise in Graves' mind as she said it.
"Can't you do something for him?" Kareen pleaded, heartbroken.
"No," Graves pronounced. "There's nothing they can do. Darnay's is terminal."
"Fortunately that is no longer the case," Selar rebutted. "Darnay's was cured eight months ago."
"The Document?" Soriana confirmed.
Selar nodded. "We need to get you to the Enterprise as soon as possible to arrest your degeneration, and then to a competent Federation facility for somatic cell gene therapy and the replacement of two defective enzymes. But you'll make a full recovery."
"I'm not going back to Earth," Graves insisted. "There's nothing for me there. My research is here."
"Considering your fame, sir," Selar offered, "we may be able to get volunteers to return to Gravesworld with you to affect your treatment. The disease is completely reversed within three months."
Graves seemed only slightly relieved by this news. Most of his fear, anger, and desire were untouched, and Soriana didn't understand why.
*****
"If the consciousness transfer is successful," Graves explained to Data, "it will be my greatest life's work. But I suppose it will now be a number of more years before I get to test it." The man sighed. "This body is an increasing burden to me, sonny. Even before the disease took hold, neither my memory nor my energy level were anywhere near where they were in my prime."
"I am sorry to hear that, Grampa."
"But you don't really understand, do you?" Ira observed. "A synthetic body that never ages, never tires. That can take repairs as easily at a thousand years old as ten. What a real mind could do inside a body like that…"
The android's facial expression changed. "Grampa, I do not understand your implication that I am not a… 'real mind.' I learn, think, and experience just as any biological sapient does."
Graves shook his head. "No, not like a real man does. No lust. Pain. Envy. Pleasure. No being swept away by the winds of passion or inspired to create."
Data nodded. "It is true that my existence lacks many of the tempestuous extremes that accompany emotion."
Graves circled around to Data's back, his hand's along the android's side. "Yep. Which is why I think… I… there!" He pressed the two buttons along Data's side, triggering the switch to deactivate the machine.
Data spun around to face Graves and backed up to put distance between himself and the old man. "Soriana, Worf, come in here, please," he called into the next room.
"What? Why didn't…" Graves sputtered.
"You were attempting to access my manual deactivation override," Data explained. "Following recovery of my detailed schematics from Omicron Theta, I have made several modifications to Doctor Soong's design. Those relays send a signal that is intercepted and reported to my sensory subroutine, nothing more."
"What is it, Data?" Soriana asked as she and Worf ran in, followed by Selar and Kareen.
"Based on my conversation with Doctor Graves, I believe he intended to upload his consciousness into my chassis, presumably taking possession of my body," Data explained.
"I was attempting no such thing!" Graves bellowed.
"Yes, it appears you were," Soriana pronounced calmly. "Doctor Selar, can you and Kareen attend to Doctor Graves in his quarters until the Enterprise returns?"
"This is my home!" Graves shouted. "You can't-"
"You attacked a Starfleet officer!" Worf yelled, so loud that it stunned Graves into silence (as well as startling Soriana and Kareen). "You no longer have the right to dictate what we can or can't do. You will return to your quarters or I will carry you there."
Graves turned and retreated without another word.
Science officer's log, stardate 42437.7. As an apology for his earlier assault, Doctor Ira Graves has given me access to his notes on his mind transfer research. It relates closely to data maintenance and storage with respect to conventional, organic, positronic, and quantum computing. I will continue my own experiments in the field and my correspondence with the Daystrom Institute with the goal of one day being able to duplicate the achievements of my creator and produce a new functioning positronic brain.