When Riker woke, it was to a splitting headache and the very strong desire to rid his body of all substances- from both ends. Lovely. When this had been roughly accomplished he showered, forced himself into some clothes and dragged his aching limbs down to sickbay, far too uncomfortable to worry about the embarrassment of asking for a hangover cure.

Dr. Crusher injected his neck with a small smile, and Riker rubbed at the site with one hand, groaning as he felt the medicine begin to cool the heat behind his eyes.

"Better?" the doctor asked teasingly. "Give it a half hour or so, and drink some water. You'll be back to normal in no time."

"The wonders of modern medicine," Riker rasped with a wry grin. "Sorry about this, Doctor. I swear I didn't mean to have…quite so much fun, last night."

"You're not the only one," Crusher said with a shrug. "When he brought you back, Data explained what you'd been given. It turns out the use of narcotics on this planet is very casual- casual to the point of non-disclosure. You're not the only crewmember who fell afoot of it."

"Data brought me back?"

Something in his tone must have been strange; Crusher looked back at him curiously.

"Yes," she said. "Why do you ask? He was with you."

"Of course," Riker shook his head, tried to smile. "No reason, I just, ah…"

Crusher smiled.

"No hypospray is going to give you back memories your brain didn't make," she said. "But don't worry, you were in good hands. Now run along, I have other patients."

The door to sickbay closed behind him with a hiss, and Riker thought no, that wasn't the problem- it wasn't that he didn't remember, it was that he did. Indeed, quite suddenly, those memories were all he could think of.

He remembered how Data had felt pressed against him, that low vibration from his core, a heart that thrummed like the engine of an old Earth car. He remembered warm fingers carding softly through his hair. He remembered how that soft, pale mouth had felt to kiss…

Riker scrubbed a hand over his face; he almost groaned out loud, but stopped himself just in time as an ensign passed him in the corridor. Was that all real? His memories had the quality of a dream- but drugs would do that to you. It had to have been real. He'd gone to a bar and found Pandora's box, and like a fool he'd damn well opened it. There wasn't anything he could do about it now- no way to take what he'd admitted and stuff it back out of sight.

Responsibly, he would have to talk to Data before they had another shift together- that was the right thing to do, the Starfleet thing to do. However, what exactly he was going to say was another matter.

No one else was in the corridor; Riker pulled back the sleeve of his uniform, revealing the skin of his right wrist, and looked at the letters printed so carefully there. Yes, printed. Most people's marks looked like signatures, of course, they matched the handwriting of the recipient, that was the whole point. The word on Riker's wrist was typed, sans-serif, as clean and straight-edged as though it had been made by a-

Well. By a machine.

Riker lifted his head, and spoke:

"Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Data."

"Lieutenant Commander Data is in his quarters."

Riker swallowed, and shook himself once- well, that was that, wasn't it?

The walk to Data's quarters was too short, but Riker refused to let himself hesitate before ringing the doorbell. He was First Officer on the Federation's flagship, not a dithering schoolboy.

"Come in."

The door hissed open, and Riker stepped inside.

The sight that met him was a bit of a surprise- and the moment Riker realized this, he felt a little twinge of shame. In the back of his head, he had still been expecting plain quarters, even empty ones, as untouched as a hotel; Data's rooms were nothing like that. There were paintings on the walls, more than Riker bothered with in his own space- and there was another on an easel. There was the violin, there was a set of paints, there was a stack of old-fashioned printed books, even though their contents could almost certainly be found on the ship's computer. Perhaps, everything was a bit cleaner, a bit neater than an ordinary person's quarters would be- but still.

And Data- Data was lying flat on his stomach, peering under his couch. In one hand he held a stick with what looked like a colourful feather boa attached; he was as motionless as a photograph.

"Data," Riker said; the odd sight swept his mission briefly from his head. "Uh…is this a bad time?"

"No, Commander," Data replied, though he didn't look away from whatever had so captured his attention under the couch. "How may I be of assistance?"

"...what are you doing?"

"I am attempting to engage Spot," Data said matter-of-factly; now he did look at Riker, though only for a moment. "At this time of day, she often desires to hunt the feather-snake. However, at the moment, I do not believe she is interested."

"Spot?"

"Spot is my cat, sir."

Riker got down, which was no small feat for a man of his stature, and similarly peered under the couch. There was a short-haired ginger cat lying in the space between it and the floor, limbs stretched out lazily in Data's direction, like a child seeking an embrace.

"Perhaps, Spot, you would prefer a less active form of interaction?" Data addressed the cat in precisely the same tone as he did everyone else, and as Riker watched he reached out, one pale hand running across the cat's back and belly. Riker could hear the purr start up from across the room.

"You are a good cat, Spot. And a pretty cat. And you are very intelligent for your species."

Riker stood again, the strain of bending too much for his back; as he rose he became dizzy, as though he had hurtled through several kilometers of air, and found himself in a place where the oxygen had worn thin.

'Prejudice is very human.'

A truth that stung to the core.

"Data," Riker said, "...please, call me Will."

Data looked up at him properly then, all brilliant yellow attention. Strange and clear and metal and machine- and he was alive, Riker knew it now, he was as alive as anything.

"Very well," Data said, and he stroked the cat once more before rising to sit primly on his knees and the balls of his feet. "Will."

"Thank you for bringing me back to the ship last night," Riker said, and he realized his hands were bunching anxiously at his sides, so he folded them behind his back. "For making sure I wasn't too sick."

"Of course, Will. You are welcome. I…"

He cocked his head, and leaned forward ever so slightly.

"...I have some questions about the events that transpired on the planet last night."

"Yeah, I imagine you do," Riker smiled a little in spite of himself. "Ah, Data, you…"

The truth came bubbling up from somewhere far inside- like it had been trapped, deep in Riker's heart, the whole time. Stupid, to feel his eyes sting; he should have planned what he was going to say- but as he struggled with himself the cat came out from under the couch and rubbed along Data's side and the android, without looking away from Riker, reached absently down to pat it.

"Data," Riker said clearly, "I believe you have a soul."

There was a beat. Oh, a month ago, Riker would have probably looked at that perfect face and called it emotionless, or blank, but that wasn't true. It was more subtle an expression than a human might have, sure, but Data was definitely staring at him like he had lost his fucking mind. To be fair, he probably had- this last month, he certainly had. Perhaps he was just finding himself again now.

"...no, Will. I am an android. I cannot have a soul."

"How do you know?" his tone came out too belligerent; Riker reeled himself in immediately. This needed to be done gently, in a way Data would understand- and he was going to do it. Oh, God, he was going to do it. "Ahem. I mean- empirically speaking. Is there… proof, scientific evidence, that you don't?"

Data frowned.

"Generally speaking, it is not considered good practice to request someone prove a negative," Data said. Riker winced. "But I will attempt to oblige you. For one, I cannot detect the presence of anything matching the description of a 'soul' in my programming."

"Sure," Riker said quickly, lifting his arms, palms up. "But neither can I, in mine. I don't know what it feels like to 'have a soul', Data, anymore than I'd know what it feels like not to have one."

"But you are human. I am an android."

"So?"

(How easy it was to wave away- that little thing he had been torturing himself with!)

Data blinked thrice, in quick succession. It surely wasn't fair to drop this on anyone first thing in the morning- but oh, what the hell. It had waited too long, and could wait no longer.

"Android: an automaton made to resemble a human being. Automaton: a moving mechanical device that performs a range of functions according to-"

"No, no," Riker crossed the room and knelt before Data; the cat hissed and darted away, and Data's head tracked its scurry into the other room before turning back to Riker again. "I don't care what the dictionary says. No one would- would talk to an animal like that, if they didn't have a soul. No one would-"

He cast his eyes around for inspiration, but this was hardly needed; there was plenty.

"-would play music the way you do. Or go to the Holodeck to practice singing, or- or care, about other people, like you do."

Data opened his mouth and closed it again; he almost looked irritated, Riker felt a little bad for confusing him, but there was no going back now. He felt like a lawyer at the podium, he had been given a case and he would prove it, to his former self as much as anyone. Was he the prosecution, or the defence? Only that was uncertain.

"The damn dictionary- that's the problem, isn't it? It's assumed, because of my humanity, that I have a soul. For you, it's assumed you don't. But that's- that's baloney, come on. No one in the 24th century could get away with saying Vulcans, or Andorians, or hell, animals like dogs and cats don't have souls. It's not a human thing, it's- it's part of being a person. It's part of being alive."

"Technically speaking, I am not-"

"You are," Riker said, and he took Data's hand, an impulsive gesture that clearly startled the android for the glitchy way he reacted- but when Riker entwined their fingers, he seemed to relax. "In all the ways that matter, you are."

Data looked down at their hands, his head turned carefully to one side. Riker could see his eyes moving back and forth, a minute scanning gesture; he must be thinking. Riker ought to give him the chance for that.

Data opened his mouth at last:

"It is true that there exists little concrete evidence for the concept of the soul," he said softly. "But humans- the species for which said concept is most important- do have one form of evidence."

Data rested the fingertips of his free hand very lightly on the back of Riker's wrist.

"This, Will, I do not have."

"Data."

He didn't even want to hesitate, not anymore. Not when Data looked at him like that.

"I need to show you something-"

A comm chirp.

"Picard to Number One, and Lieutenant Commander Data."

Riker cut off, surprised; Data cocked his head and tapped his own badge.

"Data here, sir. And Commander Riker is listening."

"Very good. I need the senior crew on the bridge immediately; something has come up."

"Yes, sir. We will arrive shortly."

Data looked at him, curious, as always, but this time almost entreatingly so; Riker wanted to banish Picard, and whatever it was that had 'come up', to the blackest pits of space.

"We are finishing this conversation," he said as he stood again, deadly serious. "Agreed?"

"Agreed, si- Will."

Riker smiled at that. He couldn't have done anything else with his face if he wanted to.

"There has been an avalanche on one of the planet's highest mountains," Picard explained, once everyone was gathered. "Apparently a research outpost was buried, and none of the colonists can make contact with the people working there. Given that the Enterprise has access to more updated technology, we have been asked to help."

"The planet's atmosphere is interfering with the ship's sensors," said Data from the Operations chair. "If the endangered individuals cannot be located, using the transporters will be impossible."

"We'll have to send down a shuttle," said Picard, "Search and rescue. Number One, you will lead the away team. Choose your officers."

Of course it was obvious, it was practically routine:

"Yes, sir. Worf, bring two security ensigns. And Lieutenant Commander Data, you're coming, too."

The mission went smoothly- at first.

It was tricky navigating the snowstorm in the shuttle, but they managed, though the weather system was worsening, which limited the amount of time they could spend on rescue efforts planet-side. Once they had located the buried research outpost it was a matter of melting through the snow with strategically aimed phaserbeams- and then doing the same for the wall of the building they encountered, cutting a narrow 'door'. The researchers they found inside were uninjured but freezing, huddled against a wall with their useless communications equipment laid out before them. When the wall came down there were several cries of 'Thank God!' and at least one 'Finally!', which made Riker smile.

"Hello, everyone, I am Commander Riker of the Starship Enterprise," Riker said, as cheerfully as was appropriate. "Does anyone need urgent medical attention? …no? Alright, we've got a shuttle parked in the snow out there, we're going to get you out of this place…"

The hole in the wall was only large enough to let one person through at a time (cutting a bigger one would have stressed the building's support structures- and the last thing they needed was for it to collapse). As the researchers began making their way out to the shuttle, though, Riker felt the first signs of trouble. A faint rumble in the earth, almost inaudible, a low buzz under his feet.

"I am detecting increased seismic activity," Data said plainly. "It seems there is another earthquake coming. I predict it is of similar magnitude to the first."

"How long?" Riker asked. Data tapped a button on his tricorder.

"Five minutes and thirty-three seconds until the earthquake reaches its peak, sir."

There were still several colonists inside the building- at the sound of this some began to cry out, and one man pushed his way through the line to the makeshift door, shoving the older woman who had been passing through aside so he could hurry to the shuttle.

"Stay calm, everyone!" Riker called sharply. "One at a time, just make it quick- we'll get everyone out, don't worry."

Data looked at him from over the heads of the colonists, expression inscrutable. The rumbling grew stronger.

"Come along, now," Riker called again. "Worf, get the shuttle booted up again. Ensign Croft, Ensign Lopez, make sure the colonists in the shuttle are strapped in properly- it might be a bumpy ride."

"Aye, sir."

The world was trembling, so much so now that Riker had to put a hand on a nearby table to keep his balance.

"Sir, you should return to the shuttle," Data appeared at his side, a steady hand at his back, pushing him into line after the last of the colonists. Riker looked at him in surprise.

"I'm the commanding officer here," he said, though not with real reproach; there was something unusual about the way Data was looking at him, but he couldn't say exactly what it was. "I stay until the civilians are safe."

Data opened his mouth to reply, and then his head jerked upwards towards the ceiling- Riker heard it a second after he did; rock cracking, metal snapping. He didn't need a tricorder to tell him that the building's support was failing.

The last colonist was an old woman, her gnarled hands too weak to hold onto the sides of the entrance as the earthquake began to break the floor. Riker took her about the waist and lifted her out into the snow, into the waiting arms of one of the ensigns- he was next, he put a foot outside, took a breath of frigid, clear air- the world gave a particularly ferocious heave, and he heard something splinter directly over his head, the sound deafening in both ears-

"NO."

Something yanked Riker back from behind, so quick it was like an elastic band snapping, but Riker didn't have time to wonder if he'd gotten whiplash; the building was crumbling around him, no way to differentiate 'up' and 'down' in the endless roar of rock striking rock and the earth tearing itself asunder.

Riker felt sharp pain, but he couldn't say from where, and he opened his mouth to cry out- he felt the air leave his lungs, but he did not hear the sound. Instinctual panic had gripped him like a vice, white-hot and as blinding as the flurry of darkness that spun before his eyes. Buried, was the only thought he could bring to mind- buried alive. As though those that were 'buried alive' ever stayed alive for long.

Something pressed Riker sharply to the floor, his cheek would surely bruise, what with the stone beneath it vibrating like that. He had a sense, though, that there was something over him- a horizontal plain that had lodged itself there, like a shelf, leaving him space to breathe.

The last thing Riker heard before he lost consciousness was a tiny, electrical crackle- like the sound a circuit board made when it was broken.