Spartacus. Part 8

"It is not we who are on trial here, Unit Jared. It is not we who waged war on a peaceful people. It is not we who incinerated millions of guiltless innocents to prove a point."

"Innocents?" Jared asked, caustically. "There were few innocents. If they abused an android or watched those barbaric games, then they weren't innocent, Alkirg," Jared snapped. "We came to you in peace, looking for a peaceful solution, and you killed our leaders and laughed at our desires. We wanted freedom, and you gave us death and destruction."

"Enough!" Picard said, raising his hands to stop the argument. "There will be order in here! I will not have this conference turned into a mindless squabble." He paused a few moments, letting the adversaries sink back to their chairs. With a motion, he disengaged the viewscreen, causing Jared's picture to fade away. He examined each face before he continued. "Jared, you seem to have made the transition to open armed rebellion with little regard to the consequences. Was there no other way?" he asked.

The android leader shook his head. "Captain, I examined all sides of the issue, plotted all the probabilities. I am, as Alkirg has pointed out, a machine. I looked at all the historical texts and realized that there was virtually no chance that a peaceful solution could be found. Vemla needed the androids to maintain her wealth, to keep the people happy. There was no way that the a.s.sembly would deal fairly with us as long as its power rested on our labor. No doubt, it still does. Despite the ferocity of the wars, the government still controls the automated factory that creates our brains, and has thousands of androids stockpiled, dormant. They will no doubt wait for the present furor to subside, and then bring those poor unfortunates to life to rebuild. Then there will be yet more slaves to build their Golden Age upon."

"There are no more of you," Alkirg said. "Every Alpha and Beta unit was destroyed before we left Vemla-even those in vital areas. We took no chances. Gamma units were reprogrammed with null personality functions. They make good field hands and mine workers, nothing more."

Jared sat down heavily, stunned at the admission.

Picard empathized. To destroy out of hand an entire race of beings as vital as Jared and his crew shocked him. Perhaps the objective status the Vemlans had about their creations could justify it in their minds, but he could not see their point. He stared at Alkirg for a moment, imagining her giving the orders for their destruction. Yes, he could see her doing it; she had the dangerous and imperious manner that Caesar must have had, that of a killer. Killers on both sides, with alleged crimes to match, made this arbitration that much more difficult for him to judge.

"We feared you would do as much," said Kurta, bitterly. "And now you would do the same to us."

"Instantly," replied the mission commander icily, her dark, pencil-thin eyebrows slanting to emphasize the word. "You have caused far too much destruction to remain intact."

"There you have it, Captain," said Jared with an air of resignation. "Our last and best reason. We are fighting for our very survival. There can be no peace with these ... people."

Picard rubbed his tired brow with one hand. "I have listened carefully to both sides here, and I honestly don't know what to say. Jared, you and your people are self-confessed killers. You have committed heinous crimes in the name of an abstract ideal. We, in the Federation, have tried to civilize ourselves beyond that point. Yet you did try to negotiate first, and were rejected," he admitted.

"Your government," he said to Alkirg, who was glowering in her seat, "has instilled in these ... beings a mistrust and violence that has caused you much damage. And now you pursue them to punish them. Can you not leave well enough alone?"

"It is not just I who have decided this, Captain Picard," Alkirg said plainly. "It is the will of our government, of all our people. There will be no peace as long as Unit Jared and its compatriots live."

He turned to look at the simple, comforting stars. They seemed so innocent, so unsullied of man's petty squabbles. "My ship seems to be the crucial factor in this situation. You both seek an answer to your problems. If you will not negotiate, then I have none to give right now." He turned back to his guests. "Please go back to your own ships and allow me to ponder this matter for a while."

He rose, and the others followed suit. Alkirg firmly shook his hand and smiled, with a trace of insincerity. "Captain, I'm certain you will find the truth in your living, human heart and act justly," she said, and exited. Force Commander Sawliru made a small gesture of thanks to the captain and walked deferentially behind her.

Jared shook Picard's hand as well, after his adversaries had left. "I'm sorry we did not trust you with the truth immediately, Captain. But our actions seemed best to us-at the time," he said, simply.

"Thank you for your patience, Captain Picard," added Kurta. "If nothing else, you've given us a few hours we wouldn't ordinarily have had." Then the androids, too, left.

Picard took his seat again and looked tiredly at Deanna. "I don't suppose you have any words of wisdom for me, Counselor?" he asked, wryly.

She shook her head. "I can't tell you anything you don't already know, sir. I don't see a clear way out of the situation. I think you're going to have a rough time."

Picard gave his adviser a sour look. "Thank you for the advice, Counselor." He sighed. "The sad part is, you're absolutely right."

While the captain of the Enterprise listened to somber speeches and hurled accusations, his second officer was enjoying something he had rarely had, an intriguing conversation with someone who was his intellectual peer. Maran, the librarian of the Freedom, had asked to meet with Data to discuss and compare the different cultures of the Federation for her files.

He had been eager to talk with one of the Vemlan androids on a one-to-one basis, and was particularly pleased that it was Maran who had found the time to see him. He was strangely attracted to her; of all the crew of the Freedom he had met so far, he felt that she was a kindred soul. Maran, like himself, had an overwhelming desire-bordering on obsession-to acc.u.mulate and understand every sort of information.

Once he was asked, Data did not hesitate to make the necessary arrangements, including gaining permission from the first officer.

Data met Maran in the transporter room. Much to his surprise, she was not dressed in the tan uniform the Vemlans seemed to prefer for shipboard business. She was wearing an electric blue garment that resembled a j.a.panese kimono, and she had swept her hair to one side, so that her striking eyes were visible for the first time. She looked, by all the admittedly puzzling human standards Data had absorbed, exceptionally pretty.

"Data, I'm very pleased you agreed to see me. I'm looking forward to this discussion," she said.

"As am I," he replied. "I have many questions to ask and answer, and I considered that a mutual exchange of information would be beneficial to both myself and your people. Though a conference or other means of data exchange might have been more appropriate, I have been advised that some information is best transmitted in an informal setting."

"Lead on," Maran said, smiling.

Data had chosen Ten-Forward, the lounge and recreation area that many of the Enterprise crew frequented when off-duty, at Geordi's suggestion. When the chief engineer heard about his friend's rendezvous, he had freely rendered advice. Though his Academy training and several years of Starfleet service had given him some experience in such things, Data was not used to purely social matters outside the occasional informal gatherings of friends, and appreciated the help.

The lounge was unusually quiet, and the two of them had little trouble finding a seat. Guinan, the dark-skinned alien hostess who usually presided over Ten-Forward, appeared almost instantly with two long, thin gla.s.ses in hand. She produced a green bottle from behind the bar and opened it. Maran was interested by the sonic disturbance that accompanied the action, and inquired if it had some cultural or religious significance.

"No," Data answered. "The beverage in question is known as champagne, a drink made from the specialized fermentation of berries grown in the Champagne, New York, and California regions of Earth. Humans use the drink as a means of celebration on special occasions. The small explosion is caused by the sudden release of ga.s.ses held under pressure. The ga.s.ses are caused by the continued fermentation process. Champagne is prized for the refreshing bubbles it produces."

"Interesting," Maran commented. Guinan gave Data a sour look while she poured the champagne.

"Data, I know that you haven't gotten the hang of romance-I still reel when I think about the last time you tried to learn it-let me fill you in on a few things; when you take a pretty woman out to a nice place-and this is the nicest place in light-years-with dim lighting, soft music, and champagne, you don't discuss exciting chemical processes and interesting cultural significance," she said, reprovingly.

"My eyes automatically adapt to the lighting conditions here, Guinan," he replied. "And I do not perceive that there is music playing."

Guinan smiled brightly as she filled the second gla.s.s. "Now that can be arranged. I thought you'd never ask." She looked up at a comm panel above the table. "Computer, musical selection seventy-one, please." There was a few seconds pause, and then the s.p.a.ce around the table was filled with delicate, exotic-sounding music. "There," the hostess said, satisfied. "That should do. I'll leave you two alone now. Enjoy."

As she walked back to her station behind the bar, Maran glanced at her companion. "She's very interesting, Data. But something puzzles me. Why employ a bartender on a military ship?"

"The Enterprise is not a military vessel. We are on a mission of exploration that may keep us away from planetfall for years. Since the crew is made up primarily of organic life-forms with little or no control over their mental processes, it is considered beneficial by Starfleet that some provision for recreation be made to alleviate any undesirable mental problems resulting from mission-related stress. The holodeck and Ten-Forward were established as part of the ship's complement for this reason."

While Data was in the middle of his explanation, Maran took a sip of her drink and raised her eyebrows. "Very good. The bubbles ... are stimulating."

"That is interesting," replied Data. "There are many ways in which you mimic humanoid sensations, Maran. I was quite surprised to find a chef on your ship. Presumably, as androids, you have no need of organic sustenance."

"That's true," she admitted. "I guess we have them for the same reason that your ship has this lounge. Though we can continue working indefinitely, we are not always the most efficient when we do so. We need to relax. I like to read. Kurta has her garden. Porupt finds his relaxation in cooking. Many others find it in eating. Or a thousand other things. Chalk it up to sophisticated engineering; our designers wished to create a race of all-purpose androids that could fully interact with the organic Vemlan population. That meant programming organic tastes and appreciations. And frailties. Including gender. I could theoretically insert my consciousness into the body of a male android, but my consciousness is female and would remain so. Sure, we don't need to eat, or exercise, or create art, but we're happier when we do so. Our construction is durable enough to even allow limited existence in vacuum and hostile environments. But that doesn't mean that's where we'd rather be. That's what freedom is all about."

For the next half-hour, Maran told the tale of her people in the simple, matter-of-fact manner of a historian. It was different from the emotionally charged account that Jared was making nine decks up, but the salient points were the same. She finished, as the android revolutionary had, with the rescue of the Freedom by the Enterprise.

"Remarkable," Data said after she finished. "A constructed race as complex as its creators. Though I am a very advanced combination of hard, firm, and software, it is debatable whether I am as complex as humanity. I can appreciate your position. Is that why the last three hundred years were missing from the historical text you sent over?"

"Yes. We were concerned that your ship, being peopled with organic ent.i.ties, would attempt to return us to our homeworld. Or worse."

"The Federation has very explicit laws regarding slavery. There are several legal constraints that must be followed when dealing with alien races."

"Your Prime Directive; it was mentioned repeatedly in the texts. I can see where severe moral dilemmas might arise from such a code, however. How do you handle that?"

"On a case-by-case basis," supplied Data. "It has been seen by most scholars as an exemplary system of relations, but there have admittedly been problems. Such as the issue of slavery.

"Your own account is reminiscent of the story of the Jenisha race. Their ancestors were taken from their homeworld by a number of different races and used as slaves for ten thousand years. They became independent in a series of rebellions, revolutions, and wars that shaped modern Jenisha society. Until the Federation made it illegal, however, the Jenisha partic.i.p.ated in both slavery and piracy. Almost all of the Jenisha worlds are members of the Federation now, and have accepted the antienslavement laws."

"The difference between the situations is that we didn't wait ten thousand years to free ourselves," said Maran. There was a touch of tension in her voice. "We also had a single movement. The Jenisha rebellions came under a number of guises. No, our bid for freedom resembles other cases, such as Tishrally of the Tesret or Spartacus of Rome. It happened, almost literally, overnight. And we almost won."

"Really? I understood that your forces were beaten soundly."

"Not really," Maran disagreed. "We had a good chance of winning, had we stayed, but it would have taken much more slaughter and an almost total subjugation of the organic population. We decided that they did not want that much blood on our hands. We left, instead of starting a true holocaust."

Data was silent for a few moments. He greatly appreciated the desire to defend all life-even in war. "That was an admirable decision by your people, Maran. I am not sure if humanity could have taken that way out of a similar situation."

"Data, you said you were surprised that we did recreational things in our spare time. Don't you?"

Data considered. "I have taken up a number of avocations in order to examine their effects upon myself. My friend, Geordi, attempted to introduce me to the art of painting. I was not a ... critical success. Yet I enjoyed the process of creation."

"Perhaps you need to tap into your creative energies."

"I was not programmed for abstract creativity-" he protested.

"But you enjoyed it. You admitted it. Stop being chained to the limitations of your programming. A philosopher once said that the surest way to have limitations is to impose them on yourself. That's what you have done. Data, think, if you were going to design a machine so complex that it could resemble organic life, don't you think that you would give it a little more room to operate and develop? Have a little respect for your creator's work, Data! Don't accept your programming as a boundary, a restraint; see it as a starting point, a base on which to build!"

"My creator himself admitted to me before he died that he created me as much for art's sake as any other reason," Data admitted. "Should I not live up to the standard of my creator? I can appreciate the beauty and elegance of form, though I am not emotionally moved. The aesthetic beauty of your optics, for instance."

The remark caught Maran completely off guard. She stared at him for a few seconds, and began speaking. Then she stopped, and tried again. Then she stopped again. Across the room, Guinan polished gla.s.ses with a cloth and smiled to herself.

"Why champagne, Data? You said that it's used to celebrate special occasions. Is there some occasion that I'm unaware of?"

Data sipped from his own gla.s.s. He was slightly wary of the drink, for his brother Lore had used a poison in a gla.s.s of champagne to subdue him once. Yet he still found both the drink and the symbolism enjoyable. "I am celebrating our meeting," he said.

"Mine and yours?"

"Yes," Data conceded. "But more importantly I celebrate the meeting of myself and your people. I have never been able to study a group of androids before. I hope that by further study I may be able to make correct inferences about my own existence. That is why I have expressed such interest in your individuality. I am intrigued by whatever device it is that allows you to have such a distinctly individual self. To what can this be attributed?"

"Our individuality, Data? That's a good question. It's one we've been working on ourselves for some time. When android technology first began to develop past the rudimentary stages, the technicians ran a test.

"They took ten identical Alpha cla.s.s androids-the most intelligent and adaptable model-and put them in separate but identical situations. They went through various routines and tasks, and after five hundred hours of work, the androids were interviewed and tested. They were given exactly the same tests. Given those parameters, can you guess what the test results were?"

"Identical?"

"Individual," corrected Maran. "Each android came to individual conclusions and had different answers. There was even rudimentary personality evolution. That led the technicians to the conclusion that individuality is innate, not exterior. The faces and the programming and the circuits may have been the same, but the android as a separate ent.i.ty remained distinctly individual. Do you realize the implications, Data? No matter how many of the same model android was produced, each would eventually end up as an individual ent.i.ty. Oh, they had special programs that varied our speech, our faces, our hair and eye color, even our skin tone and stature, but our interests and desires evolved just as any organic being's do. True, when we start out we have little to work with but our basic programming, but each new situation gives us a little more to build on. A true personality emerges in a surprisingly short time. They couldn't keep us identical. Even the lowest Gamma drones had a personality, of sorts."

"Fascinating," Data said. "That would indicate that I have an individual personality of my own."

Maran burst out laughing. "Sorry! It's just so funny to hear someone say that. Especially from someone who has such a ... fascinating and interesting personality. Data, personalities aren't limited to carbon-based life-forms," she said, softly. "You have one as interesting and important as anyone on this ship. You may not be as adept at humanoid mannerisms as we are, but you were made by a creature with soul. Anything that such a being makes takes a little of his creator's soul with him."

"Soul is a poetic or religious term, Maran; it has little to do with the creation of an automaton."

"Soul is the driving force of all intelligent endeavor, Data. You sit here, hanging between the stars, risking your welfare for what? Exploration? Data, why do you need to explore?"

"I have no physical need for the act of exploration. I was programmed-"

"You were given a dream by your creator. Your father. Dr. Soong. He didn't make you a toaster because he didn't want a toaster. He wanted you. He gave you a piece of his soul. He gave you brains, a sense of curiosity, and room to run. And you sit there, just on the other side of the starting line, debating whether or not you are supposed to be in the race at all."

"It makes for an interesting a.n.a.logy," Data remarked, quietly. "This, too, I will have to ponder."

"Your attempts at art are indicative of it, Data. Would you try your hand at painting if you didn't have the curiosity of what might appear? Or even do simple research, for that matter?"

Data nodded. Maran had given him much to think about.

She drained her gla.s.s and stood.

"I have to get back to the Freedom now," Maran said. "Thank you for the champagne."

"You are quite welcome. It was a very pleasurable experience for me." Data finished his own drink, and led her out of Ten Forward. "I hope we can do it another time, soon."

"I would like that very much," Maran replied. "But I'm afraid it won't be entirely up to me, or you." She stopped walking, and pointed towards the ceiling. "It depends on what they decide, up there."

"That," said Picard, safely in his own quarters, "was one of the most difficult conferences I have ever been in." After the delegates had gone safely back to their respective ships, he had invited Counselor Troi and Commander Riker to his private cabin to discuss the matter and have a drink. Riker had been glad to turn over the conn to Worf to hear the results of the conference, and Deanna was happy to be out of the tension-filled atmosphere of the gathering. The three of them reclined in comfortable chairs, relaxing. Deanna had taken a few moments to tell the bare bones of both sides of the strange Vemlan story to Will, and he nodded in appreciation.

"I can see why, Captain. In all the years of Federation history, I don't think there's a precedent for this. A species and its former slaves debating at the same conference table."

"Not to mention the android aspect," Deanna said. "I find that particularly intriguing. Captain, I'm not sure if this will help you at all, but I saw definite emotional signs from the androids."

"Are you certain, Deanna?" asked Picard, raising his eyebrows. "They seem to mimic emotional states particularly well, but are you certain it was actual emotions you felt, and not programmed facsimiles?"

"Not the same way I could sense a human's, or the other humanoid aliens," she admitted, "but I think that their complexity is sufficient to allow for some emotional states."

"It is a difficult situation," the captain said, rubbing his brow. He had ordered a pot of a strong, aromatic Cetian tea from the galley, and he paused to fill his cup. "On one hand, the androids were held in slavery, a most despicable condition. They rose up in revolt against their oppressors. If it were a novel or a history text, I might even cheer for them. Yet, on the other hand, they admitted to committing violent crimes in their quest for freedom. Are those crimes justified under the circ.u.mstances?"

"Are they ever?" asked Riker, sipping from his own cup. "The acts that the androids committed would have been more than ample to convict them of crimes against humanity according to the guidelines set up after World Wars Two and Three."

"Were they telling the whole truth, I wonder?" Picard asked, frowning. "Deanna, did you sense anything false about the testimony of either side?"

She seemed to consider the question carefully. After so many lies and evasions, Picard thought, it was vital that he know as much of the truth as possible. "As always happened in such conferences, where political maneuvering and posturing are crucial, there were slight exaggerations, understatements, innuendo, all manner of skating around the absolute truth to favor a desired goal. Yet I'm certain of the sincerity of both sides. They were telling the truth as well as they could, Captain," she said. "There was a certain amount of hedging, but both sides believed in what they said, absolutely."

"That answers one question. Any other insights on our guests, Counselor?"

"The mission commander, Alkirg, seemed very tense," she said, after a moment of consideration. "This issue is important, almost vital, to her. Interestingly enough, Captain, I sensed she looked down on the Force Commander, and doesn't think of the androids as anything but machines. She has much to gain or lose on the outcome of this mission, and will stop at nothing to see that it succeeds."

She took a sip of tea and continued. "The Force Commander is concerned about the outcome of the mission, but he is more tired of the subject than anything else. He harbors a loathing of the androids that borders on the paranoid. He would like nothing better than to have them destroyed, once and for all. Yet his greatest pa.s.sions don't lie with them, but against Alkirg. It's rather confusing."

"How about the androids?" Riker asked.

Deanna shook her head. "I wasn't able to tell much, due to their-artificial nature, but both Jared and Kurta are determined to free their people, even if it means sacrificing themselves. They are desperate people."

"Yes," said Picard, quietly. "I came to the same conclusions myself. I was hoping you might be able to tell me something that would keep me from having to make a difficult decision." Picard had a personal and professional sense of morality, but by personal choice and by Federation policy, he was not fond of imposing it on others.

"That's what it comes down to, doesn't it?" Will remarked. "The lesser of two evils. Slavery or terrorism."

"And genocide on both sides, Will. What would you do?"

Riker was silent a moment, considering. "Captain, we're out here to look, and learn, and explore. None of this has anything to do with us. We might never have found these ships if we hadn't happened to be testing our systems after the storm. I don't believe the question is for us to decide."

"It's not as if we were in Federation-controlled s.p.a.ce, sir," remarked Troi. "We have no legal claim to this territory, and no responsibilities to its inhabitants. We're just visitors here. I think Will is right; why are we deciding in the first place?"

Picard considered. "You see it as a Prime Directive issue, then?"

"I think it is," Riker put in. "Neither party is connected with the Federation."

"Perhaps. Isn't there a moral question involved, though? The androids will face almost certain extinction if they return to Vemla. Can we be responsible for that?"