Update! Gotta get back to my school writing now...probably for the next few weeks...but I really hope you like this next part! :)
Chapter Six
Main Engineering sweltered at a steamy 39.1 degrees Celsius, the warp core pulsing mere meters behind his head like a warm, beating heart. Strapped to the converted lab table, helpless and alone, he closed his eyes and fought to keep his breathing steady as he had been taught: In through your nose, Data, out through your mouth…
The objective is close, he thought. So close… Stay calm, and you will make it. Do not show her that you are afraid…
Data listened to the engines hum, concentrating on the familiar sound, the thrumming vibrations that ran through him, the table, the entire ship…
A mechanical click, a whir, and the peculiar Borg incubator lifted from his arm. The air in Engineering was hot and damp, but one small, exposed patch of his arm felt oddly cool… He tried to access his diagnostics, but that patch remained blank to his internal sensors. The only information he received was that strange sense of coolness which was already fading after the searing warmth of the incubator…and a peculiar, alien pulsing…
He turned his head to look.
What has she done…?
The Borg had removed a rectangular patch of his white-gold synthoskin from the underside of his forearm, and in its place…
Skin. Living, organic, human skin, warm and pink, fed by tubes and patched directly into his sensory mesh…
"Do you know what this is, Data?"
The Borg Queen's sultry voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he swallowed, his internal systems swamped with a terrible blend of horror and fascination.
"It would appear you are attempting to graft organic skin onto my endoskeletal structure…"
Data couldn't understand how she'd done it. This should not be possible…organic flesh was inherently incompatible with his android systems, the circuits in his sensory mesh should not be able to translate organic nerve impulses, let alone carry them to his brain. He felt shaken, violated.
And yet…
"What a cold description…for such a beautiful gift…"
The lithe Borg woman leaned over him, her black, machine eyes seductive as she pursed her lips and blew. The gentle touch of her breath made the hairs on his new skin stand on end, and he gasped at the sensation, startled by his body's response as he felt the goosebumps form.
For a moment, a brief 0.68 seconds, Data found himself awash in a powerful daydream, picturing what his days might be like enrobed in warm, sensitive, living skin. Feeling the breeze of another being passing him in the corridor or on the bridge; snuggling his cheek against Spot's soft, silky fur… His traitor mind took him still further, to places he hadn't dared venture since installing his emotion chip. To dreams of a child…a wife… Sharing the love of a family unit; the longing to touch, to be touched, and to really feel it…
The Borg Queen watched the shudder wrack through him, heard his breath hitch involuntarily, and her smooth, pale face grew smug with victory.
"Was that good for you…?"
Deanna Troi sat up with a gasp and kicked her way out of her sleeping bag, her heart hammering in her chest.
"What…what was that…?" she whispered breathlessly, her hand pressed to her temple. She had sensed nightmares before, picked up on the more intense imagery from others' dreams, but…Data? How…?
She peered around the cave, squinting through the shadows cast by the fading heat sticks as her eyes picked out the sleeping forms of Will, the captain…
And the empty, crumpled heap of Data's sleeping bag.
With slow, careful movements, Deanna got up, found her boots, and tiptoed from the cave. The planet's twin moons shone dimly overhead, washing the desert in their eerie, orange light. It wasn't much, but it was enough to see fresh footprints in the sand, heading toward the stable.
She followed, but the footprints continued past the slumbering horses toward a rocky outcropping. Soon, she heard the gentle burble of flowing water, accompanied by the low murmur of a man humming very softly to himself.
"Data?" she said, sensing his familiar emotional presence even if she couldn't pick out his form in the dark.
The humming stopped, and a figure rose from the shadows. Deanna started to smile, until she realized she still couldn't see Data's pale face and hands. Instead, the moonlight revealed a slender, silvery shape; a humanoid form traced against the darkness in tiny pinpricks of blinking colored lights.
"Hello, Counselor," the android said. "What brings you out here at this hour?"
"I could ask you the same thing," she said, moving cautiously closer. "Data… What are you doing?"
"I have decided to act on your suggestion, Counselor," he said, his golden eyes seeming vulnerable but, also, slightly amused. "No more hiding or playacting for this trip. Tomorrow, I intend to show my true face."
"Your…? Oh no. Oh, Data, you must know… When I said that, I didn't mean…!"
She trailed off, staring openly at the exposed metal and plastic of his machine skull, amazed by the expressiveness of his intricate, even artistic, sculpture of a face. His nose and ears, his eyelids, his lips…they were all still there, still recognizable even, but seeing them like this… It felt strangely unreal, as if she was staring at a museum display. Not a friend she'd known and cared about for years…
"Are you upset with me?" he asked. "That I decided to take your words so…literally?"
Deanna frowned at him.
"Decided…? Then, you were thinking about doing this…even before…?"
He tilted his head, uncertain of her meaning.
"Before what?" he asked.
"Before your nightmare?" Deanna finished softly. "About the Borg Queen?"
Data's eyes widened and he stepped back, moving slightly deeper into the shadows.
"How did you know about that?"
Deanna shifted her feet uncomfortably, then sat down on a protruding rock, indicating he should join her. After a moment's hesitation, he did, staring in curiosity as she reached for his blinking, metallic hand and pressed it between hers.
"I'm afraid I picked up on it," she told him, "while I was asleep. Not the dream itself, but...brief images...the fear... It left a very…powerful…impression."
Data looked amusingly astonished.
"Really?"
She chucked a little and patted his hand.
"Yes, Data," she said, but her expression soon grew somber. "You told me before that she'd tempted you. That she'd tried to seduce you. But I'm afraid I may not have fully understood what she did to you…or what it took for you to resist her…until now."
Data smiled, ever so slightly, and gave her fingers a light squeeze.
"If you sensed what I...felt...in that dream, then you know how…alluring…I found her offer," he admitted. "But her promise was an empty one. My course was already set."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He released her hand and stared off into the desert, his golden eyes dim and distant.
"May I be very honest with you, Counselor?" he asked.
"Of course, Data," she said. "You know you can tell me anything."
He regarded her for a long, contemplative moment, the blinking diodes inset in his skull casting colored patterns and shadows on the smooth contours of his pensive, metallic face.
"Very well," he said, confirming his decision. "I will answer your question. Even if it means that, by the end, you may no longer wish to be my friend."
"Oh, Data…" She sighed and shook her head at him, but gestured for him to continue. The android closed his eyes and took in a few slow, calming breaths, then began to speak.
"When the Borg captured me and dragged me into Engineering, I was concerned, of course, but a part of me was also relieved," he said. "By taking me into their lion's den, as it were, they had brought me closer to my objective – the objective of our attempted assault on the Borg hive. Although they did not know it, the Borg held me mere meters from the tanks containing the corrosive gasses I fully intended to use against them…if I could only find a way to get free. This objective remained at the forefront of my mind throughout my captivity, and affected every aspect of my communication with the Borg Queen."
"Sounds pretty logical to me," Deanna said.
Data snorted a little.
"Perhaps," he said quietly. "Perhaps the whole encounter might have remained a logical exercise…a matter of prolonged intellectual banter as I worked to find a way to shut down their attempted takeover from within. It might have…if the Borg had not found a way to remotely activate my emotion chip. Once it was active...the terror of my situation threatened to overtake my more rational intellect. I feared their Queen could hurt me, really hurt me…and I soon discovered that I could hurt her back…"
Data leaned his shoulders against the cliff side and crossed his legs in front of him. It was only then Deanna realized the android was wearing black Starfleet issue pajamas over his metallic frame…a strangely incongruous, and rather endearing, sight. But, this wasn't the time to comment. Data needed her to stay focused and to listen, and that's just what she would do.
"The Borg Queen could not access my thoughts," he told her. "She found my emotion chip, learned to turn it on and off, but she could not reach me, access my essential sense of self. That frustrated her no end. But, like all Borg, she was adaptive. She quickly found other ways to try to bend my will toward accepting hers, experimenting with different means of seduction. But, the Borg take, the Borg assimilate, the Borg control. It is not in their nature to inveigle and bargain...to love…or even to lie."
He sighed and shook his head.
"I fear that, in the end, was her weakness. Her clumsy inexperience with deceit…and her complete ignorance of the fundamental nature of social bonds. For all her experimentation, she never once hit upon the essential ingredient that means the difference between successful emotional manipulation, and mere physical temptation. Something I learned…long ago…"
Troi wrinkled her forehead.
"Lore?" she asked.
"Yes," he confirmed grimly. "But also…Ishara Yar."
"Tasha's sister?" Troi said. "I remember her. You two became quite close while she was aboard the Enterprise."
"That is true…"
His voice was a pained whisper, but she sensed it as an old wound, more of an ache than a cut.
"She deceived me from the start," he said. "Played on my memories of Tasha to gain my trust, my friendship, even my affection, manipulating me at every step until I had unwittingly secured for her what she had wanted all along: access to her rival gang's security grid. When I tried to intervene, she did not hesitate to fire at both Commander Riker and myself, her phaser set to kill."
Data snorted darkly through his nose, his expression wry.
"I had never been…betrayed…like that before," he said. "Never by someone I had come to trust, as I had trusted her. Her actions, and my responses to her… They puzzled me for the longest time. I believe my experience with her set my social development back quite a bit…particularly when it came to attempting romantic relationships. But now…now I understand. I understand because I have been in her place, and I have done as she once did."
He looked up at the moons, his expression etched with sadness.
"Deceit," he said. "Like love and friendship, deceit requires trust to be effective. I did not trust the Borg Queen. Not for one fraction of a second. But I convinced her to trust me. That is how I gained access to those tanks, and how I became the means of her destruction and the destruction of all the other Borg aboard the ship. Like my brother, like Ishara, I consciously exploited her candid, mechanical nature, feeding her trust until I could turn it against her. I have found myself struggling with that ethical quandary ever since."
He looked straight at her, his golden eyes deep and intense.
"I know…in my head and in my heart…that the actions I took were correct. I did my duty as a Starfleet Officer, put the good of the ship, and the timeline, before all other concerns, and rid the Federation of a mortal threat. I would do it again. But, I cannot ignore the fact that in the process I willfully, and premeditatively, caused the death of other beings – beings that, once separated from the Borg Queen's influence, may have rediscovered individuality, as Hugh did, or even recovered their former identities, as I once helped Captain Picard to do. And I cannot deny that I derived satisfaction, even a sense of vindication, from watching the Borg Queen die."
"Vindication?" Troi asked.
"The Borg Queen's attempts to physically seduce me were predicated on her assumption that I was an inferior lifeform, a callow innocent beguiled by the trappings of humanity," he said, his eyes averted once again. "An ignorant attitude, perhaps, but not entirely unfamiliar. The Romulans once harbored a similar impression of me...and many humans still do. But with her, it was all so much more personal."
He clenched his fists tight in his lap, then watched his fingers slowly relax.
"Recognizing her misapprehension of me as a weakness, I took her cue and played it up," he said. "I prattled to her as I used to do when I was young, staged an escape attempt to encourage her to drop her guard. And, when she kissed me and whispered to me of all the physical delights I could enjoy once she had completely replaced my synthetic covering with organic skin…I realized I nearly had her duped. A little patience, a few pointed acts of false loyalty, and she gave me the freedom I required, accepting me as her willing counterpart without a second thought. When I was finally able to watch her face as she realized her plans had failed, that I had tipped the scales against her...it was almost...enjoyable... Do you see now, Counselor?" he said, leaning toward her, his expression fierce with desperation. "Do you understand? Our roles had changed. She had become the trusting fool, I the deceitful manipulator. I had not anticipated that, or the rage she provoked in me. Nor had I expected the pain…"
"What do you mean...pain?"
Data closed his eyes, his shoulders seeming to stoop in the dimness.
"The Borg Queen's skin grafts made me feel as if I had been living my entire life under the numbing influence of Novocain," he whispered. "Suddenly, my senses were awake, alive…and it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I was…injured…during my escape attempt. A Borg drone sliced into the newly grafted flesh on my arm and I…I felt pain, real pain, I saw my own red blood seeping from the wound… It was the closest I have ever come to being human and it hurt, yes it hurt, but I did not want to lose those sensations even so. I still am not entirely certain what was worse: feeling the gasses melt the organic skin and eye the Borg Queen had given me…or the knowledge that losing them meant I would have to return to my previous numbed, synthetic existence. I wonder, perhaps, if it is not the latter."
"Data…"
"I fear, Counselor, that I am not the man I hoped I would become back when I really was the callow innocent the Borg Queen mistook me for," he said grimly. "I have lied and I have killed and I have betrayed cybernetic lifeforms like myself while defending a human society that does not fully appreciate my sentience, and which fears my very being. My actions and thoughts concern me. My memories of the Borg Queen repulse me, and I do not mourn her death. Yet, I feel that, in defeating her, I have lost something too, something fundamental. If I am no longer the innocent, trusting Data I was when I first signed aboard the Enterprise, if I have become capable of deliberate acts of manipulation, deceit, and revenge…what does that make me? Are these the lessons I absorbed in my quest to become more human?"
Deanna gazed at him and shook her head, just marveling at this wondrous mechanical lifeform staring at her with such pleading golden eyes. For so many years, she'd been unsure what to make of him. Before the chip had given him direct access to his emotions, he had existed only at the periphery of her metaconscious mind, a peculiar blind spot in her empathic awareness. But now…
Now she felt the confusion raging in his being, the passions and desires and longings she knew had always been a part of him, but which neither of them had previously been able to adequately acknowledge or explore. She sensed his essential Data-ness beaming at her like a beacon, and she almost laughed at its awkward, self-conscious beauty.
"Oh, Data... If only you could see what I see," she said, and offered him a smile. "I want you to try something with me."
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's a thought exercise," she told him. "We'll do it together. Now, take my hands."
"Like this?" he asked, gently clasping her fingers in his own.
"That's right," she said. "I want you to close your eyes…good. Now, we're going for a ride in a time machine—no not literally, Data. Keep your eyes closed. We're going back, the two of us, to our first year aboard the Enterprise-D. Are you with me, Data?"
"I am trying, Counselor," he said, heartily confused but too curious to protest.
"We're in Ten-Forward. There are two people at the 3-D chess board," she went on. "One of them is a young Betazoid woman with a terrible hairstyle. A tight, swept-up bun. Can you see her, Data?"
"She is you, Counselor."
"Is she?" Troi asked. "She may be a part of who I am today, but would you say she and I are the same?"
"I suppose…she is less experienced. Perhaps less confident?" Data tried.
"What about the man with her?" she said. "Pale skin, yellow eyes… Remind you of anyone?"
Data sighed.
"What is the point of this?" he asked.
"Just bear with me," she said. "Who is he?"
"He is…"
"Is he you?"
"Yes… And no. At this point in his career he is…aspiring, uncertain. He does not yet know where he came from, or where he belongs."
"Look back at Troi," she said. "If she were to look up and see me standing here, as I am today, what do you think her impressions might be?"
"She would probably wonder why you were wearing insulated pajamas in Ten-Forward," Data teased.
"No, no, that's a fair point," she said. "What else might she notice?"
"You have changed your hairstyle."
"Anything beyond the physical?"
Data frowned, clearly struggling.
"You have become…more perceptive, more open-minded, more of a leader? You have learned to respect, rather than resent, your mother, which is something this young Counselor Troi may not yet appreciate or understand. You have—"
"Would it be fair to say I've grown up a bit since I was her?" she interrupted. "That I have learned from my experiences and worked to incorporate those lessons into my outlook and my approach to others?"
"Yes."
"And, what about you?"
Data opened his eyes and released her hands, pressing his back against the stony cliff.
"It is not the same," he said.
"Why not?" she asked. "We've both gotten older, both matured into wiser, more competent officers—"
"My emotion chip—"
"Is a part of you," Deanna said. "And, whatever else it may have done, it's allowed me to finally see you as you are. You are beautiful to me, Data."
"That cannot be," he muttered.
"Yet, it's true," she insisted. "Thanks to that chip, my Betazoid senses can perceive a kind, compassionate, honorable officer, so filled with love that he would never hesitate to put the lives of his friends before his own. Yes, you were instrumental in destroying the Borg who had invaded our ship, but every action you took, every decision you made, was to save our lives, our future. Data," she said, closing the distance between them so she could catch his eyes with her own. "I know you've been hurting. You want so much to love, and to be loved, and it's terrible that your own caring nature has been tearing you apart. I can understand the guilt you've been carrying, and the frustration you experience when your natural overtures of friendship are not returned by the crew. But trust me, Data: if you really had become the monster you fear, we wouldn't be here, on this planet, talking by this spring. Because you wouldn't have cared enough to have had an emotional crisis in the first place. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
All through her little speech, Data had maintained eye contact, his expression sullen and a little resigned. Now, he sighed and lowered his head.
"Do you want me to replace my exterior covering before morning?" he asked.
"Not unless you want to," Deanna said. "No, don't be embarrassed. Would you like to know what I really think, seeing you like this?"
He shrugged.
"I think it's encouraging. It might be a good experience to go through the day wearing a face entirely unique to you. If you want to replace your skin later on, I'm sure there'll be time before we get to the first site this afternoon."
Data nodded slowly, and seemed to smile.
"Thank you…Deanna," he said, looking a little hesitant about using her first name until she smiled back. "And…perhaps I might test myself in other ways as well. Do you know I've never sprinted long distance outside of Starfleet endurance tests?"
Deanna blinked.
"Data…did you just say 'I've'?"
"Yeah," he said, and grinned for real. "I've been able to say 'I've' since installing my emotion chip. But, until now, I've only used contractions in private…mostly when talking to Spot."
"But Data, that's incredible! Why hide this ability?"
He shrugged.
"I told you. I didn't want to disappoint or frighten anyone. But, like I said, I'm done hiding on this trip. I'm also done letting that Borg bitch and that reporter bastard eat away at my insides until I can't stand the sight of me anymore. This is a vacation, and from now on I intend to make the most of it, and of the time the four of us spend together. I'm afraid I have...a lot to make up for..."
He chuffed a short, self-depreciating laugh.
Deanna shook her head and gave the android a friendly peck on his blinking, metal cheek.
"I'm proud of you, Data," she said, then stood up and stretched before catching a yawn with her hand. "But, I really should be getting back to sleep. We have another long ride ahead of us tomorrow. And I'm still looking forward to seeing that artwork of yours."
"It'll be there," he said.
"Are you coming back to the cave? I'm sure you have time for a better dream before sunrise."
"Maybe in a little while," he told her. "I rather like this spot. In addition…you've given me a great deal to think about."
"All right then," she said, and smiled. "Good night, Data."
"Good night, Deanna. And thank you."
To Be Continued...
References include: First Contact (movie); Best of Both Worlds I/II; Descent I/II; I, Borg; Legacy; In Theory; The Loss; Night Terrors; Dark Page; Redemption II; Data's Day; Conundrum; Home Soil; The Offspring.
In case you've been wondering, the 'terribly awry' part of this story is looming just over the horizon... Data's about to be challenged in a whole different way. Stay tuned and, until next time, thank you very much for reading! Your reviews are always deeply appreciated! :)