ROLLERCOASTER
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I Do
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Two
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All that the Registrar had done had been to exchange that slip of paper from the hospital with another, sturdier, slip of paper. Juliana's Death Certificate was much the same as the hospital's note – it had her name, and where and when she had died, only this time, there was a tasteful holographic design of a lily in one corner of the paper. It still served only to make Juliana no more than a statistic – one of the millions upon millions of people who have lived their little lives through to the end. It made no mention of the remarkable truth of her being – the truth that had ultimately killed her. You live, you die, they put you in a box and give your loved ones a receipt of your life with a picture of a lily on it – no matter whether you were a commonplace human or a fabulous, unique machine, it seemed.
Data kept staring down at the certificate. He seemed lost.
'That was easier than I had presumed it would be,' he muttered. 'I had anticipated that there would have been… questions.'
'Don't suppose they think it matters what your mother was, now that she's gone.' Tasha played her fingertips around the hair at the nape of Data's neck. 'The Enterprise won't be back from Ganymede 'til tomorrow. I'll find us a hotel room with Comms vidiscreen access, we'll let the Captain know what's happened and then we can spend the rest of the afternoon picking a nice coffin and flowers out for when they beam her body on board.'
Data slid her a sideways look. 'Sounds enchanting.'
'Still haven't mastered sarcasm yet, have we?'
Data was about to reply when his attention was caught by something else. His expression softened as he nodded towards a window overlooking the Registry Office's small garden. 'Look. There they are again.'
Tasha looked. The mousey man and his timid Ferengi bride had evidently finished their brief wedding ceremony, and were posing in the cold wind for a few Holos as mementos of the day. They were only there for a moment before hurrying back into the warmth.
Tasha raised her eyebrows. 'Wow. That was short.'
'Life is short,' Data replied.
There was a pause. They stared out at the now empty garden, then at one another.
'Would you "marry a machine"?' asked Data.
'What is it with you and other peoples' weddings?' Tasha asked. 'It's like an automatic urge you have to catch the virtual bouquet.'
'Fish of the day, Tasha.'
Tasha gave Data a long, hard look, then turned her head to the ajar office door of the Registrar who had just issued them with Juliana's Death certificate. Through the crack, Tasha could see the official, tapping away at her computer, alone. Wordlessly, she took Data's hand and led him back to the office.
She pulled him through into the office without knocking. The Registrar looked up from her desk with a faint frown.
'Is everything all right? I checked the certificate for any errors before I printed it…'
'Marry us,' Tasha demanded, urgently. 'You can do that, can't you?'
The Registrar sat back, her frown deepening. 'Um…'
'We've both got proof of ID,' Tasha added. 'We don't have to give any period of notice, do we…?'
'That has not been necessary in the British Isles since 2256,' interjected Data. 'All that is needed here is proof of identification, which we have, proof that both of us are aged over eighteen, which we are, a statement of psychological soundness, which if we may contact our Ship's Counsellor, I am certain she will be happy to send within a matter of minutes, and an official granted the responsibility to perform wedding ceremonies, which is you.'
'Um,' repeated the Registrar. 'It's not quite that simple, I'm afraid…'
'But the law of this land…'
'If you really know the law of this land as intricately as you're implying, Lieutenant Commander, then you'll know why I can't perform a marriage for you.'
'What's that supposed to mean?' Tasha asked.
'Mister Data classifies as an N.B.B.' The Registrar gave them both an apologetic look. 'A Non-Biological Being. A planet-wide law was passed over four years ago now, banning marriage ceremonies between people… organic people, that is, and N.B.B's.'
'What?' seethed Tasha. 'This is Bullshit! He went through a tribunal – over a decade ago now… he's Sentient. He's entitled to the same rights as any humanoid. There was a Ruling! And now you're telling me there's some Earth-wide apartheid…?'
'The marriage law is to prevent people from marrying holograms of real people, or of fictional characters who are the intellectual property of others,' Data said. 'It should not apply to me.'
'But it does,' explained the Registrar in continued tones of apology. 'The law explicitly states that all Artificial Intelligence is subject to the ban. It might seem Draconian to you, but people were creating Holograms of their favourite actors, their exes, even themselves, and having weddings for these fantasies with no regard for the people whose images and personalities they'd copied – it was felt that something had to be done about it. People worry about the leaps in Holo technology. They worry about where all these new A.I's springing up all over the place are taking humanity… '
'How the Hell is any of that Data's problem?' Tasha barked, her fury growing. 'How dare you just lump him in with peoples' pet Holograms? He's not some computer-generated fantasy, he's a Godammed hero – he saved your ass, and the asses of the jerks who passed that law, and the asses of everything on this stupid planet with an ass from the Hell of assimilation. Twice over. And believe me, you don't want to know the things he went through to do that, all to save you being some one-eyed automaton with nothing to say for itself but "Resistance is futile"…'
'Tasha,' murmured Data, 'please. That is enough.'
'No, it is not enough! Because you know what? I'm a Big Damn Hero too. I'm not some idiot who wants to get hitched to her very favourite Hologram of Elvis Presley before he got fat. I am a decorated Officer of Starfleet, and I work hard at being the best ass-kicking, planet-saving Space Warrior that I can possibly be. I've worked hard all my life at earning the basic human respect that I never had as a child. But one of the hardest things I've ever done has been to get to where I am right here, right now – wanting to share the rest of my life with this person, and him feeling the same. So don't you dare deny me that right, just because his insides are made of metal instead of meat.'
'I don't want to deny you anything,' the Registrar replied, quietly. 'And I'm aware of the bravery Starfleet showed in keeping the Borg from Earth, on both occasions. We all are. I'm sure that if you made an appeal, an exception regarding the marriage ban would cheerfully be made in Mister Data's case – but you'd have to speak to somebody far higher up the pecking order than me. I'm just a Registrar. I can't change the rules, and I have to follow them. I can get contact details for you if you'd like, but I'm afraid you won't be able to get married today. Not on Earth, anyway.'
Tasha was about to launch into another tirade when Data laid a calming hand on her shoulder.
'You fight enough battles as it is. Let this one go.'
'But…'
'The moment has already passed. This has ceased to be an impulsive gesture of the affirmation of life and love in the face of death, and has been turned into simply more paperwork and shouting – both of which I have already had my fill of today.' Data rubbed at his eyes. He looked impossibly exhausted, for a being that never fatigued. 'I would like to go now.'
'OK,' replied Tasha, softly.
'I'm very sorry I wasn't able to help you,' the Registrar added.
'You are simply performing your job to the best of your abilities,' said Data. 'It is not for you to overturn the law that you work by. We can understand that. If being forced to deny us our request for an illegal union embarrassed you in any way, you have my apology.'
'Good luck for the future,' continued the Registrar as they left her office. 'And for the funeral.'
Tasha put her arm around Data's shoulder as the door shut behind them. Leaving the office had done nothing to rid the android of his tired expression.
'All in all, a pretty shitty day, huh?'
'I have had better.'
'I'll find us a nice hotel,' she told him. 'We can go coffin shopping tomorrow – you need a break for the rest of the day. Girlfriend's Orders.'
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Tasha was true to her word, and had them booked into a light, airy room in a small, modern hotel down a quieter side street within the hour. Unfortunately, almost as soon as they had contacted the Enterprise to let them know their whereabouts and settled into their room, the in-house Comms monitor began to urgently chime for their attention. Dr Tainer's tear streaked face on the screen confirmed Tasha's fear that the idea of a break from dealing with the aftermath of Juliana's death was not to be realised.
'Data. You haven't left yet…?' Tainer's tone sounded less like a straight question than it did a plea.
'No, Dr Tainer. The Enterprise will not return to beam us aboard until tomorrow.'
Tainer let out a sigh of relief that turned halfway through into a miserable sob.
'Am I to take it that you have changed your decision regarding your attendance of the funeral?'
'I was so angry at the hospital,' replied Tainer. 'Angry and lost. I shouldn't have taken it out on you – I'm sorry. And I certainly shouldn't have taken it out on poor Juliana's memory. It doesn't matter what she was – she was my Juliana. That's what counts.' Tainer paused. 'She was so full of love - for me, for you, Data… for you too, Commander Yar. She was so very glad that her son had found someone. She saw you as a daughter. She was a wonderful person, and she deserves the best funeral we can give her.'
'I have made a few arrangements already,' Data replied. 'Do you wish to discuss your own ideas for the ceremony at this conjecture?'
Tainer nodded.
Tasha closed her eyes and reclined on the bed as the two male voices in the muted exchange of memorial ceremony ideas began to muddle together into a single, lulled mantra. Only the vivid image of standing in the Holland Street Registry Office's small garden as a dozen officious midgets pulled the wedding dress that she was suddenly wearing to shreds about her body alerted her to the probability that she had fallen asleep.
By the time she awoke again, the vidiscreen had been switched off and Data was lying next to her, staring silently up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.
She rubbed her eyes, groggily. 'Data – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep like that.'
'There is no need for an apology,' Data replied. 'My conversation with Dr Tainer was lengthy, and did not require any input from you. I believe that, between us, we have planned as fitting a memorial for my mother as possible. I have told the Enterprise that he will be transporting aboard with us tomorrow, along with my mother's remains.'
'And how are you feeling?'
'I wish that the people I care for would stop dying in quite the concentration that they have been of late,' Data told her, forlornly. 'My internal chronometer tells me that it has been eleven years, eight months, one day, fourteen hours, twenty two minutes and five seconds since Lal died, but when I think of her, sometimes the grief is so raw that it feels as though I lost her only yesterday. I grieve for Jenna, too – and my father… even Lore, despite everything…'
'I understand. I got a megalomaniacal psycho in my family tree too, remember?'
'Tasha, as you rightfully articulated outside the Registry Office, Ishara is not in the same league as Lore.'
'I know. I was talking about Sela.'
'Oh.'
'I think part of what troubles me about her is that I'm aware of the possibility that some day me and her will boil down to the same point that you and Lore did – kill, or be killed and have all our friends killed too. And, if I were the one to walk away from that, it'd leave me feeling like crap about it. She is my daughter, after all. Sort of. I'm just saying, I can understand how you must mourn for Lore.'
Data nodded, taking her empathy for losing his evil double on the grounds that she had one herself with the sort of calm matter-of-factness in the face of a ridiculous situation that she'd come to expect from him.
'And now my mother,' added Data, continuing with his list. 'Or my little sister – call her what you will.' He paused. 'My family is terribly strange.'
'The Gods of Olympus have got nothing on the Soongs,' agreed Tasha. 'No wonder your mother liked me – with a sister who tries to send nuclear cores into meltdown for kicks and a half Romulan daughter from a dimensional accident, I'da fit right in with your folks.'
'The irony is,' Data added, 'that Ishara and Sela, in their perilous conditions and fragile biological bodies, seem to have fared far better than Juliana – a seemingly robust electronic being living in relative safety – in terms of longevity. In fact, for all the talk of we androids' capacity for very long lives, the only family member that I know who enjoyed many years of life was my human father. His life was longer than those of Lore, Lal and the electronic Juliana, combined.'
'What are you trying to say, Data?'
'They said that the Titanic was unsinkable, yet sink she did, on her maiden voyage. What if we Soong models are Titanics? Lauded for our invulnerability but in fact more fragile – more transient – than the average humanoid? I have now lived for longer than any Soong model. What if a total system failure awaits me in a matter of months – weeks - days?'
Tasha frowned across at him. 'That's why you wanted us to get married today, isn't it?'
'That was a mistake,' Data replied, 'and I apologise. I suspected that the ban on performing weddings for Non Biological Beings would extend to me, but made no mention of it. I was overcome with a sudden, urgent impulse to pledge the rest of my life – however much of it remains – to you. Given the opportunity to review this course of action, however, I have come to realise what a selfish and unkind suggestion that was.'
'How could that possibly be?'
'Because,' Data explained, 'if the remainder of my life is indeed to be fleeting, then it would be grossly unfair of me to promise you so much, only to leave you a short while later with no more than Dr Tainer has now – memories, and a broken machine to atomise.'
'Data.' Tasha shook her head, softly. 'Who's to say what the future's gonna hold? Maybe we'll fail to rematerialise when we're transported to the Enterprise tomorrow. Maybe this whole hotel will fall into a freak tectonic fissure in the night. Maybe the time we have left together is a matter of days or weeks… or we could find ourselves in eighty years time with you still looking fresh as a daisy, helping me find my walking cane and cutting my food up for me.' She paused. 'As much as that law stinks, maybe it did us a favour today. I don't want you to marry me as a reaction to death – I do want to be with you for the rest of my life, and we don't ever need to make it official if we don't want to - but if we do decide to make those vows, I want it to be for their own sake. Besides, in the long run it would be kinda crappy that our anniversary would always be the same as that of your mother dying.'
'I do not want to lose you.'
'You're not gonna. You've got me. And we don't need rings on our fingers right this instant to tell us that.' Tasha took his hand in hers, latticing their naked fingers together. 'It's taken us long enough to get here. I'm happy just to be with you. There's no rush to make it anything else.'
He gave her a small smile of understanding, and watched as she ran the thumb of her interlocked hand gently over the side of his index finger. As she played with his hand, she thought about the one step towards matrimony that did seem sensible at that point – one, in fact, that she'd been considering proposing the night before, just before they had received the message that Juliana was dying. Having just talked her grieving boyfriend out of his hasty marriage plans, she was sure that now wasn't the time that she should bring it up. She was just wondering when would be a suitable lapse of time when Data either read her mind or came to the same logical conclusion as her, independently.
'You do not have much by way of possessions, do you?'
'Spartan is my middle name – or would be, if I had one.'
'I have slightly more by way of trinkets, mementos and artistic pieces than you,' Data replied, but we would still be able to easily transfer all of our objects of value into either just my quarters, or yours, with room for both of us to move freely and live comfortably.'
Tasha gave him an impish grin. 'Are you asking me to move in?'
'I cannot see the Captain objecting,' added Data. 'As far as I am aware, the available space that us cohabiting would provide would be much needed.'
'That's very selfless of you, Data.'
'You know very well that my reasoning for making such a suggestion is far from altruistic,' Data replied. 'It is a logical step that we share our quarters – as it is, we spend most nights in one another's beds. Nevertheless, this is a suggestion prompted by sentiment – not logic. I want to live with you, and to stay with you every night without concerning myself with returning to my own quarters for something that I need. I want to return at the end of every shift in the knowledge that you will be there also. I wish to spend every morning amongst the smells of your breakfast and your freshly cleaned hair, and to be there every day to put the cap back on to your toothpaste tube. You consistently forget to do that.'
'I do.' Tasha closed her eyes and nestled her head into the crook of Data's neck. 'My quarters are nicer. You can move in as soon as we're back, if you want.'
Data kissed her forehead. 'I do.'
