Spartacus. Part 14

"Bioagent 23," Garan explained, holding up a marble-size canister between his fingers. Jared nodded. Dren had carried several such canisters aboard the satellite stations over Vemla. They contained a virulent biotoxin that destroyed the integrity of the synapses in the central nervous system. It was a quick-acting, extremely potent agent; this one canister could wipe out six crews the size of the Enterprise before they knew that there was anything wrong.

Jared opened the cavity in his left index finger and inserted the tiny vial. Theoretically it would kill every carbon-based life-form on the Enterprise, leaving only the androids alive on board. If given the chance, he would deploy the toxin first, rather than destroy himself in an explosion. But he was quite willing to sacrifice his own life for the sake of his people.

Besides, they could always make more Jareds. That was one of the advantages of being an android.

Androids. Jared considered Data. He would most likely not be affected by the biotoxin, and there were other aliens on board, like the impressive-looking Klingon. There was no guarantee that the toxin would affect Worf and the other aliens.

"Give me a gun," Jared said as he closed his finger. "Something small and lethal. For Data, should he survive, and other possible obstacles."

Garan reached behind him seemingly without looking and picked up a cylinder no longer than his ma.s.sive pinkie. Jared took it and placed it in his belt pouch.

"Four charges only," Garan warned. "Pick your targets for maximum effect and damage."

"No need to remind me, my friend. You taught me those lessons long ago. And if it is taken from me, I can kill with my bare hands, if need be. We will have freedom if we must kill every living thing on the Enterprise."

The thought of murder on that scale did not greatly appeal to Jared. But the fate of his people was at stake, and he knew enough to strike while he had the advantage. Data's solution, though it gave him some hope of peace, more importantly gave him an opportunity to save the lives of his people. At the expense of others, and perhaps himself, he knew, but it was a price he was willing to pay for the ideal of freedom.

"Prepare yourself and the others, and wait for my signal," Jared said. "If I don't return, you are to be in charge of the fighting."

"As you wish," the giant said, nodding simply. "Good luck, my friend," he finished, catching Jared's eye with his own, and then turned immediately to his work.

Chapter Ten.

"CONTINGENCY PLAN ALPHA is ready to be executed at your command, Captain," Worf said over the intercom.

Riker was in the conference room with Captain Picard, who had a busy telescreen in front of him. He nodded and responded. "Excellent, Mr. Worf. Stand by."

"Are you sure this is going to work?" asked Riker, doubtfully. As much as he trusted Worf's opinion on such matters, there was still a potential for failure, which might prove disastrous to the ship.

"No, I'm not," Picard answered tiredly. "But it's an inspired plan. Mr. Worf is growing more diplomatically adept, Number One. No doubt he will make an excellent captain himself one day. Now, back to this hearing business," he said, tapping the screen with a forefinger.

Will checked his own screen for the requirements of such a hearing. They were not arduous, but it was vital that the proper forms were observed in this case. Regardless of the outcome, the two men were accountable to Starfleet and the Federation, and neither wished to give the androids anything less than a fair hearing.

"The hearing is to be held before you and two senior officers, appointed by you. They are to advise you, but you are to make the final decision." He looked up from the screen and fixed Picard with a knowing look. "In this case, I would recommend that you not choose Commander Data for this duty."

Picard nodded. "Under the circ.u.mstances, I agree. I appoint you and Dr. Crusher for the task. I think you are both capable of making a decision on this order," he said, smiling.

"After the last person speaks, you adjourn, consult with your advisers, and make your decision." Riker looked up. "It's that simple."

"Very well, make the necessary preparations. And make sure that Worf keeps his eyes on the navy; in case of any problems, you have authority to activate his plan."

"Captain, I think Worf should watch the androids, as well," Riker added with a frown.

"You expect problems?" Picard asked.

"Always," Will said, with a half smile. "Maybe my brief service aboard a Klingon ship made me a little paranoid. But I don't trust Jared farther than I can throw him, and I consider any group of self-proclaimed terrorists potentially dangerous in my book. I'm probably wrong, but I'd hate to be right and get caught unprepared."

Picard pursed his lips and nodded. "Agreed. Make it so."

"Good," Will said, relieved that the back door would be watched too. "I think it's time to get this show on the road."

This time, there was no temple courtyard-the holodeck had been set up to look like a conference lounge, and already many of the crew had settled down to watch the proceedings. Though the occasion was somber, the atmosphere of the gathering was almost festive, and Picard, taking note of it, decided upon entering the room to force the hand of reason and civility. Though the parties involved were virtually at war there was no need for disorderly proceedings.

He wore his dress uniform, and had instructed the other partic.i.p.ants from his crew to do likewise. Straightening his jacket, he surveyed the room. On the right-hand side stood the Vemlan delegation-Alkirg in a formal gown standing impatiently behind a table with Commander Sawliru, who wore a black uniform, encrusted with medals. He knew the navy shuttle that had brought them had been empty, save for the two of them and a pilot; it waited now off the Starboard bow, where it was regularly and thoroughly scanned by Worf.

Kurta and Jared, dressed in their stark tan uniforms, stood to the left. Picard thought they looked more like prisoners than representatives of a race trying to enter the Federation. A calculated maneuver, perhaps? Data, who stood with them as their counsel, was also wearing a blank expression, but Picard hadn't expected anything else from him. He nodded to the security personnel at the door-also in dress uniforms, though the phasers they carried were standard issue-and spoke to the computer.

"Begin," he said simply. There was a dimming of the gallery lights, and the star map surrounded by a laurel wreath that was the symbol of the United Federation of Planets formed dramatically on the wall behind the panel's table at the head of the room.

"Captain on the deck," the computer boomed forcefully upon his entrance, drawing the attention of the crowd and quieting their murmurs.

"Be seated," he called to everyone. Riker and Dr. Crusher entered immediately after him and sat, immediately followed by the rest of the a.s.sembled. He surveyed the room, noting everyone was prepared. He turned to Number One and nodded.

Riker returned his nod, one eyebrow raised, and began. "This hearing has been convened to hear the pet.i.tion and application of the Vemlan androids for membership in the United Federation of Planets. The pet.i.tioners' representatives will please present the doc.u.ments to the hearing officers."

Jared stepped forward and placed an isolinear chip on the table, then returned to his seat. Riker inserted it into the computer slot, and displayed it on the screen in front of him. It was simultaneously entered into the official record and displayed for the audience to see. "Everything seems to be in order," he said, nodding to Picard, the chairman.

"Objection," Beverly Crusher called. The three panel members had consulted exhaustively to prepare for this hearing-to play devil's advocate-to ensure that no legal question had been overlooked. As primary judge of the application, Picard had to make certain that all considerations were brought up fairly and discussed. The record would doubtlessly be intimately scrutinized by Starfleet and the Federation upon their return to the more civilized parts of the galaxy, and he wanted his actions to be above reproach.

Picard considered the entire process fascinating, on one level, for here the honest question of whether or not Jared and his people were a race-for the purposes of the Federation-was to be decided. Such decisions were not made lightly, nor did one get the chance to make them very often. He was making a bit of history here, and had no idea where it was going to lead. He nodded for Beverly to proceed.

"The pet.i.tioners do not represent the populace of a planet."

"There is ample precedent for nonplanetary membership, Doctor," Data interjected. "Beginning with the very first years of the Federation, where the artificial habitats in the asteroid belts of the Centauri systems were admitted. The Slao-vecki species, whose planet was destroyed in a nova, was also admitted, as were the Aeorethians, who have no permanent planetary home. In all cases, the races in question have become valuable members of the Federation despite their lack of a planet. Last but not least, the number of Federation citizens who live and work on artificial habitats or s.p.a.cecraft-such as our own USS Enterprise-have no declared planetary home, but may not be denied their rights as citizens. Shall I quote the pertinent legal precedents?"

"No need, Mr. Data," Picard said. "The objection is overruled. The Chairman-myself-recognizes the Vemlans as an organized and self-governing body, as supported by legal precedent," Picard finished. That question was relatively clear-cut. Before he could begin the actual deliberations, however, they had to clean up a stickier issue- "Objection," Riker stated flatly, looking over the doc.u.ment on the screen in front of him. "The pet.i.tioners are machines, mechanical constructs, not true living beings, and are therefore not qualified for membership."

This was the much more controversial part of the hearing. It also hit very close to home. It had taken a landmark legal decision to cla.s.s Data as a living being with rights and responsibilities, and thus far the ruling had gone unchallenged. If a case could be made that the Vemlans were not living, and thus not eligible for membership, then Data's own legal standing was once again in doubt.

Picard didn't like this part.

"The Vemlans are androids of sufficient complexity to rate as living beings by any suggested scale," Data argued.

"That's preposterous!" Alkirg exclaimed. "They are no more alive than you are!"

"There has been a challenge to your claim, Mr. Data," Riker observed. "Do you wish to defend it?"

Picard watched with interest as Data arose and looked intently at the alien politician.

"I submit that the Vemlans cannot be proven not to be alive by any reasonable method. I address the one who posted the objection. Commander Alkirg, why are they not alive?"

"Don't be obtuse. They have no biological functions!" she insisted, with an irritated wave of her hand.

Data, had he been faced with such a statement before the hearing, would have replied in a logically exact manner that would have answered the question as quickly and efficiently as possible. He had, however, in the interest of the security of his newfound friends and an interest in his own legal rights, taken the few hours available to him for preparation to study law and legal techniques. He found the area most revealing of human strengths and weaknesses. Though the present-day Federation did not depend as heavily upon laws, rules, order, and legal frameworks as human civilizations of the past, there were techniques and forms that went back to a variety of historical eras. He had devoured entire law libraries with inhuman speed and comprehension, placing the talents and wisdom of such ancient legal giants as Hammurabi, Clarence Darrow, and Jose Tarentino at his disposal. The hearing that he had been so instrumental in calling was not technically a legal matter; it was a mere step in the bureaucratic ladder of the Federation. Yet it held a courtlike ambience and order that made knowledge of a twenty-first century trial procedure, the apex of the Legal Era on Earth, invaluable. Unfazed by the intensity of his opposition, Data proceeded calmly with his reply.

"We have an expert witness on all forms of biological activity available to the hearing. Doctor Crusher, I ask your professional opinion. What are biological functions?"

Doctor Crusher folded her hands on the table and thought a moment before she replied. "They are functions of the body that are necessary for the sustenance of life."

"And what is the definition of life?"

"I don't have an inclusive definition for that. As long as we were confined to one biosphere, the definition could be at least hinted at. But the universe is so diverse in its formations of life-forms that no true, objective definition exists. The closest I could come would be to say that life is a complex, reactive, self-replicating process that some ent.i.ties possess. Some say that the best way to define it is by its ultimate negative quality: A living thing is a thing that can die."

"Is a virus a form of life?"

"Tricky," she admitted. "Viruses as a cla.s.s have flip-flopped back and forth over the years, depending upon which authorities you talk to. And they can die, even be killed," she admitted.

"I am talking with you, as an authority. I repeat my question. Is a virus alive?"

"In my professional opinion ... yes."

"Am I, in your professional opinion, alive, Dr. Crusher?"

"In my professional opinion ... insufficient data, Data," she said, smiling at the near-pun. "I haven't seen you die, so I do not know, with certainty, whether you are alive."

"Yet you were a witness of the death of my daughter, Lal; you were also witness to the apparent destruction of my nearly identical twin, Lore, discovered at the same colony where I was discovered, created by the same hand that created me, from the same plans and designs. As I recall, he was 'killed'-if temporarily-right in front of your eyes, after threatening your son's life. Am I correct?"

"Yes," she admitted, hesitantly. "Yes, by that definition, both Lal and Lore were alive."

Data seemed unfazed by the comment. "Since I am Lore's twin, am I not also alive?"

"As a cla.s.s, I would have to say that yes, both you and Lore are living beings. The Federation already accepts this legal point; two of the panel members were instrumental in that decision."

"Yet both Lore and I were constructed androids."

"Yes."

"Like the vemlan androids present here."

"As far as I can tell."

"The Vemlans, as living beings, have certain mechanical functions that must be maintained for continued operation. I submit that these mechanical functions are necessary for the sustenance of their lives, and are, therefore, biological functions." He turned back to Alkirg, a little haughtily, Picard thought. No, it must be his imagination. "Therefore, there is a legal precedent for considering an android to be a living, self-aware being."

"Yes," Picard replied. "A case which I am intimately aware of, Data." He remembered his intense preparation for Data's own trial and was a little relieved that he was not an opposing party in this case. But there was a flaw in Data's argument. "I will concede that you are, legally, a living being. These other androids are an unknown quant.i.ty, however."

"Exactly," Sawliru said, rising suddenly to his feet. "Though you cater to your own machines as if they were your pets, rather than your servants, the machines we manufactured on Vemla have no such status. Your doctors may consider them alive; that's your business. You admit I don't know how you built your android. Our machines are machines, simply that; complex machines, to be certain, but they can be taken apart and put back together again. When they break, they can be repaired. They are programmed, they are useful, and they are artificial."

"But they are alive," Data insisted, turning to confront Sawliru. It was obvious to Picard that the Force Commander didn't like addressing the object of the debate directly. "There is not a single biological function that they are incapable of accomplishing. Anything you can do, we can do. What is the difference, between you and me?"

"I had a biological mother and father, whose attributes and genes I carry. Where are your parents?" he countered snidely.

Data looked tolerantly amused, an expression Picard had seen him practicing with Wesley. He still didn't quite have the hang of it. "You refer to the matter of reproduction. It is an almost universal standard by which all life-forms are measured. Doctor Crusher even included it in her general definition of life. You mentioned genes and attributes; I submit that the master design program, which each of the Vemlan androids carries in its permanent memory, serves the same function as DNA or comparable methods of genetic racial memory. In a properly equipped laboratory any one of the androids on the Freedom could totally replicate itself, with conscious alterations and improvements in design that are in fact more efficient than the burdensome process of natural selection."

"You need a laboratory for your reproduction and you call yourself living beings? I think not," Sawliru scoffed.

"Yes. By your standard, a human female who is not able to conceive a child without medical a.s.sistance would also be cla.s.sed as a non-living being. There are races of clones who may survive only by such means, because of genetic damage. They, too, would not qualify as living beings as per your standards."

"The difference is simply a matter of the type of laboratory you use, that's all," Kurta added pa.s.sionately. "Give us a few generations; we'll put the laboratory inside each and every android."

Sawliru refrained from saying something back, Picard noted. No doubt it was something rude and disruptive. He appreciated the display of control. The proceedings were becoming heated, but Picard had expected that. At least they weren't shooting at each other yet.

"The difference is a matter of organics," Alkirg insisted, waving her hands for emphasis and appealing to the panel and the crowd behind her. She returned her attention to the androids. "You are not carbon-based, biological creatures, you are a well-designed mechanical nightmare that, regrettably, got out of control."

"The fact that we are not organic forms of life does not bar us from membership in the Federation," Jared said coldly. "The Gaens of Valarous are silicon-based life-forms, and they were admitted to the Federation on stardate 3262.1, if the records on the Enterprise are correct."

"They also replicate by as.e.xual reproduction," Data added, helpfully, "and need a catalyst to reproduce."

"Doctor," Picard said, intent on stopping the quotation of precedents, which could go on forever, "I am asking your direct professional opinion. Are the androids individual, living beings?"

The question visibly troubled her. Beverly's tired face shifted into her "doctor mode," a look that everyone on the ship knew, he perhaps best of all. Far from being a mere healer, Beverly Crusher was also, by the necessity of her duties, a talented research scientist and theoretician. He knew she had often had to deal with incredibly strange forms of life, beings whose biological functions she could not even begin to imagine. And as far as he knew, the question "Are they alive?" had very rarely crept into her mind.

She drew a breath and gave her a.n.a.lysis. "As I said, the question of what defines life is a complicated, almost unanswerable one. Our primitive ancestors had it easy. If you could kill it, cook it, or kiss it, it was alive; and if it wasn't, you didn't pay much attention to it. The exploration of the galaxy has made all our earlier definitions moot, however. We once had rules about what was alive and what wasn't, but when we encountered aliens who didn't fit those definitions, yet were positively alive, our rules had to change. And when creations such as the Vemlans," she said, with a nod of her head, "and our own Mr. Data," she said kindly, "come forth and declare that they are living beings, any convenient and simple definition just doesn't work.

"The question has many different aspects as well. There is the religious side-do the androids have souls? I am not qualified to give an opinion on that. There is the psychological question-are androids self-aware and capable of conscious, sapient thought?" She frowned. "Though I'm trained in psychology, it isn't my specialty, and again, I can't confidently render an opinion. Then there is the biological issue. On that, I am able to render an opinion."

She paused to survey her audience.

"Data and these other androids have been built in the shape of their creators. They have two hands, two feet, two eyes, a nose, two ears, and an advanced electrochemical processing system. Now, in a human or humanoid form of life, I would say that you could artificially replace each and every biological part of a single body, with one exception, thus creating a cyborg, or cybernetic organism, and still cla.s.s the individual as a living being. It isn't the veins and the tissue and the cells that make a sapient being, it's that one thing that can't be replaced-the brain or a.n.a.logous central nervous system."

"But the androids don't have brains!" Alkirg said triumphantly, standing and gesturing wildly. "They're just computers!" She turned to the other table. "We made certain of that; just big, self-important computers-with a logic error someplace."

"I wasn't finished," Beverly said icily. "The many studies of comparative anatomy in alien races have shown that a central nervous system can take many forms, from huge ma.s.ses of neural processors like the Terids on Sephria, to creatures with such a decentralized system that you have to grind them into hamburger to kill them. Like the Wallowbat of Centauris and its relatives. The way a brain is put together isn't important, and neither is the material from which it's made; the mere existence of a central nervous system is enough, in my opinion, to cla.s.s a creature as an advanced living organism." She looked directly into Alkirg's eyes. "Regardless of where it came from. Data is alive, medically speaking, and legally speaking. So are the Vemlans.

"However, the question of their sentience is not the main issue here," Beverly continued. "The question is whether or not they are a race. That is a little more complicated. A virus is alive and sentient, in its limited fashion. But it's not sapient. I wouldn't cla.s.sify it as a race. I can't do so for the Vemlans, either."

"That's your opinion?" asked Picard.

She took one last, long breath. "Yes. That's my opinion."

Picard raised his eyebrows, and turned to his first officer. "I find then, Commander Riker, I must overrule your objection as well. Partially based on the Federation legal precedent established for Commander Data, the Vemlans are indeed alive."

He glanced over at the Vemlans' table for their reaction to his decision, and saw Alkirg quietly berating Sawliru, probably for his failure to win this particular point. The Force Commander's face flushed beet red, and Picard felt pity for the man.

"However," he continued, "these arguments raise a new objection: are the Vemlan androids a race? Only a few months ago the Federation was attacked by aliens known as the Borg-a mixture of man and machine possessing tremendous military power." Picard continued for the edification of the navy and the androids alike. The Starfleet officers knew very well what the Borg were. Their recent attack had driven right to the heart of the Federation. Over sixty Starfleet vessels had been destroyed in defense of Earth, a loss from which the Federation had yet to recover.

"They operate together as a single group mind. Members of many species make up their fleet, as the Borg ships sweep throughout the galaxy in search of new life-forms to destroy or incorporate into the Borg. Yet the sentience of the Borg is machine-based; a series of programs runs their ships and directs the individuals in their tasks. They are highly organized. But are the Borg a race?"

The thought had been much on his mind. He had been captured and incorporated forcibly into the Borg-his knowledge of Starfleet tactics and Federation technology had been used against the defenses of Earth, and many had died in the process. In the end, with Data's help, Picard had escaped the clutches of the Borg and the ma.s.sive, cubical Borg ship had been destroyed in orbit before it had a.s.similated the Earth.

"Data, you had contact with them. You helped me escape. Were they a race, or simply a program?"

"Insufficient data, Captain," Data replied. "Because of the minimal contact the Federation has had with the Borg, there is not enough information to make a judgment. I experienced the software defenses of the Borg ship; I did not have intimate contact with them. To my knowledge you are the only person ever to do so-and live to tell about it. Therefore you are in the best position to make that decision."