Charity
(Hugh & OC)
"And is that all you have to show me this week?" asked General Vranik, dropping the padd Hugh had handed him on the desk with a dismissive clack.
Hugh picked it up and swallowed a burst of anger. The statistics on that padd – surgeries performed, patients responding to treatment, patients discharged – were all, if not as high as he wished, certainly nothing to be sneered at. The Artifact was, however imperfectly, making a difference. "I don't know what you mean."
"You know perfectly well." The insignia of Vranik's uniform gleamed in the green light as he fidgeted in his seat. "If you wish for the New Romulan military to continue funding this little project, you shall have to bring us some results that we can use. Weapons, transport, energy … anything that will help what remains of my people to defend themselves."
The old man bowed his clean-shaven head, and for a moment, Hugh could almost sympathize with him. He knew all too well what it meant to lose one's Collective and become suddenly helpless.
He was just about to scroll down to the end of his report, where he had copied Dr. Asha's insights on the treatment of trauma survivors (not what Vranik had asked for, but perhaps something he could use) when the sneer returned to the General's face. "It's not a charity we're running here, Director."
"With all due respect, General," Hugh rose to his feet, "I run it – and to me, it is."
Vranik flushed an indignant shade of olive and started to say something, but Hugh cut him off: "Be assured that I will keep you apprised of all our progress in the future, whether you find it useful or not. May I show you to the docking bay?"
Hugh took him politely but firmly by the arm and steered him out the door.
/
Acceptance
(Hugh, Soji, Data)
Young Dr. Asha reminds Hugh of someone.
He watches her at work, her glossy black head bent over her unconscious patient, extracting the Borg implants with utmost delicacy and precision, and he tries to think of who it might be.
Then she sees something that surprises her. Her eyebrows shoot upward, her eyes flicker from side to side, and he remembers.
When the golden-skinned science officer approached the U.S.S. Enterprise's Brig, Third of Five – recently named Hugh – braced himself for another confusing interaction. His last visitor, the El-Aurian, had blamed him for the assimilation of her race. Would this one be angry too?
"You are comprised of both organic and artificial materials," said the officer. "Intriguing."
"You … do not fear us?"
"As an android, I have no emotions. I do not experience fear."
"Do you experience loneliness?" asked Hugh.
Hugh was lonely. The silence where the Collective used to be was preying on his mind. It was not a condition he would wish on anybody. He wished Geordi were here.
Data's eyebrows shot upward. His eyes flickered from side to side. He paused before answering the question.
"Sometimes," he said at length, "I could wish for another like me. But the friendship of those who are different has its own challenges, and I find it most rewarding."
"Director, look," says Dr. Asha, waving Hugh forward. "I've never seen a nervous system like this. Should I increase the medication, do you think? I don't want him to be in too much pain when he wakes up."
He admires her for thinking like this, blending science and kindness gracefully into one. He's learned a lot over the past thirty years … including how to smile.
"It's your call, Doctor. Keep up the good work."