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Chapter Twelve
Data, Howard, and the children huddled together in the lee of a low, protruding chunk of ruined concrete, watching the projected energy field sparkle and fizz with every sand particle that slammed against it. Just beyond, the sandstorm raged, roaring and swirling and tearing across the hapless desert. The wind ripping around them made it hard to breathe, and the children's faces had grown flushed and sweaty, the terror in their eyes prompting Data to hold them close and whisper softly, over and over, that it was going to be all right, they were going to be all right.
Data's diagnostic shields were not very strong, nor were they meant to be. Their purpose was merely to ensure no dust or other foreign materials got into his systems while his circuitry was exposed during maintenance. But, with Howard helpfully serving as a supplementary power source, Data had managed to innovate a link-up allowing him to amplify and extend the extremely short range energy field he could project just enough to provide a protective "bubble" for the little group to wait out the sandstorm.
An energy-eating bubble that was draining his, and Howard's, power reserves more quickly than he had anticipated. But, he didn't have to tell that to the children. As Captain Picard had advised him long ago, there were times when excessive honesty could be detrimental.
"How much longer are we going to be stuck here like this?" Kahlestra asked, glaring at the raging storm.
"Only until the storm passes," Data said.
"How long will that be?"
Data reflexively opened his mouth, ready to provide her with a condensed, simplified report of statistical averages and projected meteorological activity, but something stopped him before he could speak. A…feeling…that, somehow, that was not what the girl was actually asking for…or what she and the others really needed just then.
No, what they needed was a distraction. Something to take their minds off of their frighteningly precarious situation.
He frowned slightly, wondering: Could this be intuition? Or just experience?
"It shouldn't be too much longer now," he said, hoping strongly that was true. If his energy reserves dropped too far, he was afraid his systems would go into automatic shutdown until his power cells had a chance to regenerate. If that should happen, it would look to the children as if he had fallen into a coma – a situation that would not only undermine their trust in him and his ability to help them, but also leave them vulnerable to…anything, everything…!
Data swallowed back his rising anxiety and shook his head. Perhaps he was the one who needed a distraction.
"Commander?"
"Yes, Kahlestra?" he said.
"You can call me Kay," the young Klingon said. "All my Federation friends do."
"Very well, Kay. You may call me Data."
She smiled, but only briefly. The Orion girl kept her eyes on the sand, and the human boy seemed to have fallen asleep curled up on Data's lap, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady.
"OK, Data," Kahlestra said. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Certainly," Data assured her. "What would you like to know?"
Kahlestra regarded him.
"What did happen to your skin?" she asked. "Did the Orions, like, peel it off or something?"
Data pursed his lips and looked away, a strong, discomfiting surge of reluctance causing him to shift his position slightly.
"No," he said quietly. "No, our captors did not do this to me."
"Then how-?"
"Please…" Data interrupted. "I understand your curiosity, but this is a…complicated matter. And highly personal. And I believe this time would be better used for introductions. After all, if we are going to be traveling the desert together, it would probably be helpful for all of us to know each other's names, would you not agree?"
Kahlestra grunted her dissatisfaction, but acknowledged his point. The Orion girl continued to stare at the sand. But, the little boy opened his eyes and looked up at him, his expression curious.
"Why is your name Data?" he asked.
Data blinked.
"I do not believe anyone has asked me that before," he said.
"It's a weird name," the boy said. "Data. Mine's Mikey. I'm almost nine."
"Hello, Mikey," Data said. "And, in answer to your question, my name is Data because my function is to learn, store, and recite all sorts of information. In fact, the word 'data' means 'information.'"
"Are you a soldier?" the boy asked.
"I am a Starfleet Officer," Data told him. "As such, it is my job to serve the interests of scientific discovery, and the peaceable exploration of our galaxy."
"I've seen lots of soldiers," the boy said wearily, watching the swirling sand beat violently against the force field. "They fought the Cardassians when their soldiers came to say our colony belongs to them now and not to the Federation anymore."
Data's eyes widened.
"You are from a disputed border colony…?"
"Hey, I heard about this in school," Kahlestra said. "About how the Federation accepted a treaty of half-measures to put an end to the war with Cardassia. My teacher brought it up as an example of how weak and sneaky the Federation can be when trying to back out of a violent dispute. But, if your colony was handed over to the Cardassians as part of the peace negotiations, why didn't your family just move?"
"My mom and dad and uncle said it was our home and we shouldn't have to give up what was ours because some far-away politicians said so," the boy recited glumly. "They said the treaty was bad and the war was still on and they kept fighting and fighting and fighting. All the time, they said the Federation would come, that they'd send Starfleet ships to help, but when no ships came the Cardassians dropped bad bombs that made everyone sick."
"…radiation…" Data realized, feeling rather unwell himself.
The boy looked up at him.
"You must have been hurt really bad to need so many metal parts."
"Metal parts?" Data asked curiously, not quite following his meaning.
The boy shrugged a little.
"I was really little when the bombs fell, but I remember things…like pictures in my head. I remember, my dad and uncle had some metal parts. They got them after a photon grenade blew up their real ones. My dad had a metal leg, and my uncle had a metal arm and a big metal plate in his skull that covered where his eye used to be and a big part of his face. It had blinking lights, sort of like yours. He used to keep a magnet on it that looked like an angry dog."
"What do you mean, 'used to'?" Kahlestra asked.
Mikey lowered his eyes.
"They're dead," he said flatly. "Everyone is. That's how I ended up with Father. Father collected me and lots of other kids from the Cardassian soldier who ran the orphanage. And when Father found out I was sick Father said I was a worthless Skin and now I'm here."
The Orion girl raised her head from Data's shoulder and scooted closer to Howard.
"What kind of sick?" she demanded.
"They say it's a kind of cancer," the boy said quietly. "I got it during the war, from breathing in the bad dust left by all the bombs."
"Whoa," Kahlestra said. "Are you going to die?"
The boy started to answer, but Data spoke first.
"No one is going to die, if I have anything to say about it," he said. "Federation medicine can treat nearly all forms of cancer. You children have probably never heard of Dr. Beverly Crusher, but she is one of the Federation's leading medical specialists, and a close friend of mine. Once this storm has passed and we make it back to the archaeologists' compound, I will contact her and—"
"Hang on," the Orion girl spoke. "What makes you think this big shot doctor friend of yours would even touch a sickly little Skin like him? Only time a doctor buys a Skin is for dissection…or worse things…"
Data stared, uncertain whether she was telling the truth.
Apparently, Kahlestra felt the same way because she looked just as appalled.
"Lying P'Tok," she muttered. "What could be worse than dissection?"
"You really want to know?" the Orion challenged. "You really want to know the kind of fate that can leave a Skin praying to be sold instead to some twisted scientist's dissection lab, or a Gorn's meat locker?"
Kahlestra bared her teeth and clenched her fists.
"If you are trying to frighten me, Orion, you will need a better imagination!"
"The realities I've seen are way worse than any horrors your pampered little mind could come up with, Klingon! And, you'd have found out first hand, if these robots hadn't come in with that phaser rifle! Haven't you heard the saying? 'There's no Skin so pliant as a Klingon without honor'!"
Kahlestra let out a savage roar, but Data clamped a staying hand on her shoulder.
"Please – there is not enough space for you girls to fight, and I require all my energy to project this shield," he warned. "Now listen. Whatever your circumstances were before, the five of us are free now. You are not Skins, you are people, with natural rights that must be respected. My friend, Dr. Crusher, is a healer. I can promise she will care for you – all of you – because, as Starfleet Officers, it is our duty to respect all life. We do not deny treatment to those who need our help, especially children!"
The young Orion snarled.
"Nice speech, Robot-Man," she said scornfully. "I'll believe it when I see it. Especially after learning how much respect and compassion your precious Starfleet showed this kid's colony!"
She poked Mikey's arm. He clung closer to Data, burying his face in the android's shoulder.
Kahlestra met the cynical girl's snarl with one of her own.
"I suppose you Orions would just let the human child die, then," she snapped. "After all, he's got no value to you filthy slavers. Even the Gorn wouldn't buy a sick kid!" She bared her sharp teeth. "Orions have less honor than Ferengi!"
The Orion lunged at the Klingon, but Data kept them apart, pushing them gently, but firmly, back into sitting positions.
"Stop this!" he snapped. "Have you forgotten the sandstorm?"
"What of it?" the Orion growled.
"Well, it can kill you, for one thing," Data said. "Right now, this shield Howard and I are projecting is the only thing keeping this storm from sandblasting your skin right off your faces."
The children shifted uncomfortably.
"Yes, that's right," the android said. "So, you can see it is in your best interest to remain as still and as calm as possible. Can you do that?"
"Yes… Yes, Data…" the children muttered in uneven chorus.
"Good," he said, and smiled. "Now, we have heard Mikey's story. Kay has told us of her capture, and I told you of mine. And we know why Howard is here."
"I am here to serve," Howard said.
"Yes…" Data said, and the children giggled a little. "But, what of you?" the android asked, turning his golden eyes to the young Orion.
The girl drew her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around her shins.
"Doesn't matter," she muttered.
"What doesn't matter?" Kahlestra said. "Your name, your past, your identity, your family—"
"None of it," the Orion snapped. "I don't want any of it."
"Then, what are we supposed to call you?" the Klingon asked. "Hey You?"
"Kay…" Data chided gently, but the Orion's glare was hard and sharp.
"Ishta" she said. "Call me Ishta."
"Ishta! Seriously?" Kahlestra snorted. "Like the princess in that Rigellian fairy tale?"
"I like the name, OK!" the Orion shrieked. "You got a problem with that?"
"No. But, you don't strike me as the dreamy Cinderella type," the Klingon retorted. "With that skin, you're more like the Frog Princess!"
"Why, you pointy-headed little troll!"
The Orion clenched her fists, her blue eyes blazing, but once again, Data kept the two girls safely apart.
"Enough!" he exclaimed. "Why do you insist on denigrating each other by deriding each other's appearance? I would think that, after being treated as Skins, you would both know better than to judge an individual by their looks."
"Well, you look like a robot, and you don't even have any skin," Ishta muttered.
Data closed his eyes and took in a slow, steadying breath.
"Let's get this straight right now," he said. "Howard is a robot. I am an android."
The Orion snorted.
"Same difference."
"Not at all," Data said. "Howard's humanoid appearance is purely aesthetic. Mine is not."
Ishta rolled her eyes.
"What does that even mean?" she said. "Are you saying you, like, used to be a human man but you got your body parts replaced by machinery, like Mikey's folks?"
"No," Data told her. "I am not a prostheticized human. Nor am I a cyborg."
"Then you are a robot!" Ishta insisted.
"I am not!" Data exclaimed, then winced, fighting to keep his frustration in check. He wouldn't be setting much of an example if he allowed his temper to rise as quickly as the children's. "My father, Dr. Soong, was human. I am his constructed son. He designed me to be as human as possible in looks and function. He spent his entire life working to engineer a mechanical brain and body and synthetic organs that would mimic human systems extremely closely. But I am not human. I am an artificial life form. An android. Not a robot. Do you understand now?"
Ishta shrugged.
"Whatever," she said. "It's not like it matters."
Data pursed his lips, irritated and a little concerned by her attitude, but Kahlestra looked up at him with a somewhat hesitant expression.
"Were you and your father…close?" she asked.
"No," Data said, a trace of sadness coloring his voice. "No, I barely knew my father. Although he provided me with a special chip containing selected memories of what could be called my 'childhood,' I only really met him once." He sighed. "It's complicated."
"Yeah," Kahlestra said. "I can get that. I'm not close with my father either."
"No?"
The young Klingon shrugged.
"My mother and father's marriage was arranged by their Families," she said. "My father's views on a wife's role were very…traditional. She tried to conform to her Family's expectations as long as she could, but after a few years she renounced her marriage oath, returned to school, and took me with her. It was her right, and there is no shame in her choice, but her parents have not spoken to either of us since…except to say they have no daughter. My father did not renounce me in the same way, but he has remarried, and I have never met his new family. Nor do I wish to."
Ishta snorted.
"So, Klingons are just as hypocritical in their beliefs and practices as humans. Good to know," she said.
Kahlestra bristled.
"You can talk, you Orion b—"
"Stop, right now," Data said. "You know we can't afford to start this again. But, I am curious about this fairy tale you mentioned. Perhaps, one of you might—"
Data broke off with a sudden, startled gasp, his hand flying reflexively to his chest. He swallowed hard, his breathing coming short and quick.
"No… Oh no, not yet…"
"Data?" Kahlestra asked, grabbing his arm. "Commander, are you OK?"
Data shook his head, feeling oddly cold despite the desert heat. His limbs felt heavy and weak, and the sheltered little space seemed to be spinning just slightly. His fingers tingled unpleasantly. Was this what it meant to feel 'lightheaded'?
"I am sorry," he gasped, his diagnostics suddenly prodding him with alerts warning automatic hibernation was imminent. "I don't mean to frighten you. But I'm afraid my energy reserves are running alarmingly low. Do…do any of you have anything to eat, any food?"
"You eat?" Ishta said.
"He said he wasn't a robot," Kahlestra snapped at her, digging into her pockets. "Damn it! I usually have spiced meat sticks in my pocket, but that Nausicaan or those Orion jerks must have taken them!"
The wind blew a fresh wave of sand against the force field, but it didn't seem as fierce as before. Mikey crawled off Data's lap and peered through the shimmering field.
"I think the storm is starting to die down," he said. "I can almost see some blue through all the brown."
"And not a moment too soon," Ishta said. "Data, how long do you think you can keep this shield up?"
"I can maintain the shield for another two point one eight minutes, but even with Howard's assistance my systems have taken most of the stress. I am facing an automatic shutdown," Data said worriedly, far more frightened than he cared to admit. He'd never felt anything like this before, not even when his systems had been invaded, and corrupted, by an ancient Iconian program. His diagnostics had forced an automatic shutdown then, to purge the invasive code. But, this was different. This…he'd done to himself.
"If a shutdown does occur - if I should lose consciousness… Howard," he called. "Howard, I order you to keep these children safe. Do you understand me, Howard? I need you to serve me and these children by keeping them safe, no matter what."
"I am here to serve," Howard said.
"How comforting…" Ishta muttered. "But what about you? If you go into this shutdown thing, are you going to wake up again?"
"I will…once my power cells regenerate enough to allow me to regain consciousness," he said, his breathing becoming increasingly labored as he fought to stay awake. "I want…I want to tell you all…you have been very…very brave. You must…work together now… Help each other…"
He swallowed again, his saliva tasting oddly metallic.
"It's strange," he commented, and smiled slightly, struggling not to let his fear show on his face. "I felt so unsettled…even claustrophobic…when I was trapped in that Orion cell. Now, we are in even closer quarters, yet I do not feel the same pressing anxiety. You children must be good company…"
"Commander?" Kahlestra shouted. "Commander! Stay awake!"
Data tried. He strained to respond, to maintain his conscious awareness, but he couldn't fight the shutdown any longer. His eyes closed without his willing it, and his dizziness overwhelmed him, carrying all his thoughts and worries down to a gray, terrifying blankness…
To Be Continued...
References include TNG: Journey's End; Brothers; Descent; Inheritance; Contagion.
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