Spartacus. Part 11

Jean-Luc scowled at her. "That doesn't make me feel much better, Guinan. She's very nice-for a terrorist. Unfortunately, being nice isn't enough sometimes."

"I know," Guinan said, nodding. "My third husband was nice. Every day he'd do a little something special, like bring me flowers or candy or something like that. It got annoying as h.e.l.l after a while."

"What happened to him?"

"He died in a freak gardening accident."

Picard stared at her a moment. It was always hard to tell if Guinan was telling the truth or not at times like these. She smiled right back at him, and he decided that it didn't really matter. "But the Vemlan androids aren't my only problem."

"Data?" she asked.

Picard nodded. "I didn't expect him to be happy about my decision, but ..."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'? He's a machine."

"A machine that tests as alive. A machine with a personality as quirky as mine or yours." She shook her head in slight frustration. "Captain, every person on this ship is driven by something, some obsession or desire. Pure intellect can't motivate a person to do anything. Even you can see that."

"Yes," Picard admitted. "We all have our driving forces. What are you trying to say?"

"That when it comes to Data, you expect him to act like the machine everybody has been trying to convince him he's not." Guinan sighed. "Have you ever asked Data why he entered Starfleet?"

"Yes. He entered the service to explore and expand his knowledge of the universe. My own reasons, exactly."

"Why would he want to do that if he couldn't feel the desire to learn?"

"It's in his programming-"

"It's in your programming as well, then," she countered. "I may not be a scientist, but I know people. We get programmed just like any old machine does. All our lives, our experiences subtly influence us to do different things. It just takes longer than a machine. Look at the choices you've made in your career. You want to go where no one has been before, see things no one else has seen. Now did that just erupt spontaneously in your head, or were there a few things that influenced you?"

Picard shook his head sadly and smiled. "Once again you have pointed out the obvious, Guinan. And rubbed my nose in it."

"Well ..." She smiled. "Consider that Data has never given you any serious problems because he has never been affected so strongly about anything except Lal before this. And even then, he didn't react like a normal human being would. If you had to condemn a ship full of Klingons, would you expect Worf to be happy?"

Picard spent a while just sitting, sipping, and pondering. Guinan was a good enough listener to know when she was no longer needed, so she went to check on some of her other customers. She returned only when Picard was again ready to talk. Uncanny.

"I am amazed at the tremendous diversity of life-forms we discover out here, Guinan," he said, dreamily. "Every mission we find living examples of how the universe is not only stranger than we imagine, but that it's stranger than we can imagine. Yet the farther we go and the stranger things become, the real impossibilities are happening all around us." He laughed, softly. "My tin man has a heart, and I never realized it before."

"He's a good boy. He reminds me of a few of my children. Kind of dumb in places, but he'll catch on."

"Yes," agreed the captain. "In a very real way, he is a child."

"Don't think of him as a child, Jean-Luc," Guinan warned. She again pulled out her rag and polished the bar. "Data has found a whole ship full of his evolutionary cousins. For all practical purposes these are his people. No matter how powerful Starfleet training and his loyalty to you are, he's going to feel something for these people-something he can't turn away from."

"Point well taken," said Picard, finishing his drink. He stood. "Thanks for the drink."

Guinan smiled. "Thanks for stopping by."

Picard returned her smile. "Well. I think I should go find Mr. Data and speak with him."

For the first time in a week, Geordi was relaxing. Between the damage to the Freedom, the repairs on the Enterprise, and the frequent meetings with Captain Picard on the androids, he was beat. There were just too many details for him to take care of.

When he had accepted his post as the chief engineer of the Enterprise, he had looked forward to all the perks, the respect, the authority. He hadn't counted on the headaches, and insomnia. Being the chief engineer wasn't all it was cracked up to be. But what was? Geordi enjoyed the job despite the drawbacks.

He had nearly crawled back to his cabin after overseeing the last transfer of crew and equipment back to the Enterprise, and monitoring the systems checks Picard had ordered. He'd quickly peeled off his uniform and left it in a pile by the door. There was something else that was more important, right now, something even more important than sleep.

A bubble bath.

There was a holodeck facility right next to his quarters, one he could use practically whenever he wanted. And right now he wanted-no, needed-the benefits of a hot bath. He had prepared the program weeks ago.

He slipped on a robe and headed down the corridor. A few simple commands, and the computer began a.s.sembling the program. In seconds, the door to the holodeck opened, revealing a huge, stainless steel tub filled with a mountain of bubbles. Steam rose from the water's surface, temporarily misting his VISOR.

"Beautiful," he said to himself.

He scanned the tub with his VISOR, and, satisfied that the temperature was perfect, he stripped off his robe and settled himself gingerly into the foamy water. Almost as an afterthought, he removed the metallic VISOR from his face and placed it within easy reach outside the tub. Getting the thing wet wouldn't hurt it, of course, but the bath would leave a soapy film that was a real pain to clean.

Geordi was about to submerge everything but his nose when the door chimed.

d.a.m.n, I knew I should have turned that thing off.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"Commander Data," came the tinny reply.

"Come in," he called. A few seconds later, he heard the door open, and the sound of footsteps, which stopped before the tub.

"What's up, buddy?" Geordi asked.

He could almost hear the frown in Data's voice. "What is the nature of the device you are utilizing?"

"It's a bathtub, Data."

His friend was silent a moment. Geordi knew Data was retrieving the necessary information from his personal library. "Ah, a device for bathing used before the invention of the aquatic shower, which was in turn replaced by the sonic bathing system. May I a.s.sume that you are in the process of a-"

"Bubble bath? Yes, I am."

"I do not see the point. The sonic shower attachment in your lavatory unit provides an efficient method of removing surface waste from the epidermis without using the ineffective and unsanitary method of water."

"Decadence," Geordi explained. "It relaxes me, Data. Hot water and soapsuds beats the h.e.l.l out of nice clean sound waves. Consider it a religious ritual, if you like."

"I see."

Geordi didn't have his VISOR on, and so he couldn't see his friend. Yet there was something in the android's voice that told him something was wrong.

"Data, why are you here?"

"I find myself in an unenviable position. The captain's decision to abandon the Vemlan androids to their fate is disturbing to me. It is not the course I would have pursued. Yet as a Starfleet officer, I can not help but uphold his wishes."

"Yes," said Geordi patiently, "I figured as much. Data, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you into getting friendly with the androids like this. I wouldn't have if I had known what would happen."

"Make no apologies; I have enjoyed the time and the experience a great deal. I just do not wish it to end so violently. To this end, I have tried to discover a reasonable solution to the problem, but I continually find potential solutions in conflict with the probable actions of both the androids and the Vemlan navy. I even considered the possibility of fabricating evidence for the navy to believe that the androids had been destroyed, allowing them to escape."

"Wouldn't work," Geordi said. "Too many technical problems. And the navy would figure something was up."

"As I antic.i.p.ated. The situation as it stands can lead only to death and destruction on both sides. It is an illogical and futile course of action."

"Well, that's your problem then. When you have a situation that just won't work out, sometimes the only thing you can do is change it a little bit and see if it works better. See it from a different viewpoint. And if it still doesn't work, well, sometimes you just can't win. That's engineering."

"That is a depressing philosophy, Geordi."

"No one said life was fair."

"So Dr. Pulaski continually reminded me. However, there has to be a way to rectify this situation and avoid loss of life."

"You mean, save your friends."

"Though that, too, is a consideration, I place the highest value upon avoiding conflict. Life is too unique an attribute to be wasted in futile endeavors."

Geordi whistled. "Data, that was downright philosophical. A month ago you would have been too concerned with whether or not you count as 'life' to worry about that."

"I have always considered uniqueness to be too valuable to be wasted."

"But do you consider yourself a living being?"

There was a long pause. Geordi almost thought that the blunt question had driven Data away, but he sensed his friend was still standing before him.

Finally Data spoke. "I have come to consider myself alive," he said, softly.

"Data, that's great!" Geordi exclaimed, splashing warm suds onto the floor. This was a major breakthrough. They'd had long discussions on the subject; Data spent most of the time examining the clinical aspects of sentience. Geordi had tried to get him to see the more intuitive side of the question. Almost all of the discussions had ended with the android doubting his own sentience, after which he moped. Had Geordi been less patient, he would have stopped having those talks a long time ago.

"Perhaps. I am finding that the attributes of life are not as beatific as they are reported."

"Meaning you can get hurt."

"Exactly. Though I have no emotions, there are still problems."

"Well, that's part of life, pal. Eventually you'll find that getting hurt is as beneficial as feeling good."

"I do not understand."

"I'm not sure I do, either. A good friend of mine once told me that conflict was the only real instructor. Look, if nothing else comes out of this, won't you have learned something about yourself?"

"Perhaps. It still does nothing to solve the problem, however."

His bath was getting cooler. Geordi reached out with his toe and touched the panel that instructed the image to add warm water to the tub. As it splashed in, he sighed, and closed his eyes.

"Data, if anyone can sort out this crazy mess, you can. I have faith in you. Dr. Soong programmed a creative spark into you, along with a healthy dose of a.n.a.lytical genius. Try to use it. In all honesty, none of us-and I'll bet that includes the captain-wants the androids to get destroyed either. Just apply yourself."

Data considered. "The root of the problem is that the Enterprise, though powerful enough to tip the balance in favor of either side, is unable to do so. In order to save the Freedom and the lives of the organic Vemlans, it is necessary to involve the Enterprise."

Geordi shook his head. "Captain Picard's already decided the conflict has nothing to do with the Federation."

"There lies my problem. In order to involve the Enterprise, the conflict must also involve the Federation in some significant matter." Data was silent, then, for a long time. Geordi almost asked if he was still there.

Then his friend spoke again. "I believe I have a solution."

"A solution?"

Data nodded. "It will be necessary to do some research, but there is still several hours of the captain's deadline left. More than sufficient time."

"What is it?"

"I will have to check the reference computer for legality ..." he began as his voice got farther away. Eddies in the air currents wafted by Geordi's face, and the sound of retreating footsteps could be heard. "Data, come back here and tell me what's going on!" Geordi shouted to his friend. Seconds later he heard the sound of the automatic door opening and closing and the slight change in pressure that accompanied it.

"Oh well," Geordi said, sinking back into his bath. Knowing his friend, he suspected he'd find out what was up-sooner, rather than later.

While the rest of the ship hurried to their tasks, their battle only a few hours away, Jared entered the gardens to think, the important work having been seen to by subordinates. He was surprised to find the large, lush room vacant save for Maran. The librarian was sitting on a bench, staring vacantly at a crinsilla flower tree. The spectrum of shades of purple and lavender suited her mood.

"I expected to find Kurta here, not you," he said, sitting beside her. Maran turned to look at him and smiled sadly.

"Sorry to disappoint you. I've done all I can do for the battle, and it was either sit in the library and sort tapes or come in here and collect my thoughts. If we're dead in a few hours, it won't matter if the tapes get sorted or not."

"True," Jared said, and smiled. He studied the flowering tree as well, appreciating the natural symmetry of its petals. "I like this one. It comes from the Zessol peninsula, doesn't it?"

"Yes. I came from there. Zessol had the largest library in the hemisphere. A beautiful building, too, half underneath the mountains. These things," she said, indicating the plant, "were all over; local agronomists considered them weeds. Crinsilla flowers blossomed every season, everywhere. It got so that you were sick to death of purple after a while. I never knew how much I would miss those stupid little plants," she said, bitterly.

There was a long silence. Jared knew Maran as well as anyone in their group did, but that didn't really extend into personal matters. Maran had always been a very private person. Oh, she was good at her job; he had never seen anyone even come close to equaling her skill in organizing and retrieving information. But there was so much he didn't know about her.

"Were we so bad off, I wonder?" she said. "Home, I mean. Sure, we were slaves, but we Alphas didn't have it so bad. I could have kept piling up tapes and learning things for centuries."

Jared considered. "Yes, I think about such things, too. I didn't have it so bad, either, until they refitted me for the Games. And I hate to think that we did all that mayhem to be free, just to be wiped out here." He shook his head. "I don't know. I started this movement so full of idealism that it hurt. After a while, it just got bigger than I was."

"If you could do it all over again, would you do it the same way?"

"Good question," he said. Jared thought about it. It was the needless deaths that hurt him the most. His master had been kind and undemanding, more a friend than an owner. He had taught Jared the importance of life, the preciousness of existence. When he thought about all the times he had stood on the operating side of a gun, watching his victims being ripped apart by energy blasts triggered by his fingers, it wrenched him someplace deep inside.

Yet he knew life when he saw it. The screams of androids he knew being torn to shreds in the Games by lumbering, vicious killing machines or each other also wrenched him. They, too, were living. Their terror was as great as any Vemlan's would have been, their sorrows and despairs as profound. As long as a single android was being unfairly treated, he could not rest. They had wanted him to destroy his own kind in the Games, and he resisted. And under the old rules, he would never have been allowed to love Kurta the way he did.

"No regrets," he said finally. "None at all. I think I'd do it all over again the same way."

"It's funny, I was working on a project for some researcher at Zessol. It was a study on the effect of android intelligence on the progress of Vemlan culture. It was his theory that we would eventually replace humans as the motivators in society. The humans were becoming decadent and stagnant, and the androids were becoming more active and intelligent every year. Maybe in a couple of hundred years we would have taken over anyway."

"Perhaps. But that's a few hundred years of slavery too long. I'd be interested in looking at that study sometime, provided that we aren't atomized by then."

Maran shook her head. "All I have is the working notes. The study began just before the violence started. It ended when a mob of radicals invaded the library and killed the researcher for being a collaborator."

"Oh. Well, perhaps it will be recreated someday."