Ghost Ship - Diane Carey [84]
“I copy, sir. Your pursuit is ill-advised.”
Riker opened his mouth to, snap an insult or an order, but caught his breath and changed gears on the spot. Working as fast as his fingers would go, he tried to force the minimal sensors to draw in on Data’s location without putting out enough energy to attract the entity. He paused, took a breath, counted to one, and slowly said, “Data, I know what you’re trying to do. Geordi told me. I know this is because of those things I said, and I want to tell you … I was wrong. I had no right to say those things.”
“Appreciated, sir. That does not change the accuracy of your statements. You did help me to perceive myself, and for that I am grateful. I’m receiving erratic readings on the phenomenon, sir. It seems to be fading in and out of contact. If it probes me again, I may be near enough to it to transmit as well as receive.”
“That may kill you. Don’t try it. We’ve got other ways to fight this thing.”
“Fighting it is impractical at this time, Mr. Riker. It uses our own energy against us.”
“Worf may have found a way around that,” Riker told him, hedging his bets, “but we need you to help us lock down the theory. Turn around and let’s go back while we can.”
There was a pause, long enough to make Riker nervous. Finally he tampered with his equipment and said, “Data? I’m switching to visual.”
As he said it, the screen to his right flickered and focused, supplying him with a reassuring picture of Data’s face, a little staticky because of the reduced power output.
“Data, listen to me. I want you to come back with me. You’re too valuable a crewman to lose on this wild scheme to communicate with that thing. Be reasonable.”
Data’s expression was one of regret but resolution as he thoughtfully said, “Even if I could not find a way to communicate with it, sir, I must continue my search.”
Even though he knew what was coming and hated himself for sparking it, Riker asked the question he had been steered into. “Why?”
“I must find out if there is anything in me that the phenomenon recognizes as a life essence. I must know if there is enough humanity in me,” Data said slowly, “to be destroyed.”
Riker squinted into the brightness of the screen. “Data, think about that. It’s not very logical, is it?”
“No, sir. But this may be my only chance to discover whether I am even alive, much less human. And if the entity fails to absorb me,” he said, his impassivity more than disturbing, “I shall have my answer. I will know my place.”
“Your place is with us,” Riker told him. “I know that now. You’re doing something no machine would do. That’s enough for me.”
Then the remarkable happened. Data smiled at him. It was a simple, spontaneous smile, childlike and heartwarming, and it didn’t seem he was even aware of it. The android’s sulfurous eyes sparkled with a lively quality that Riker had never noticed when he was standing in the room with him, but it was also the kind of smile that was laced with regret. Riker could tell-he’d seen enough smiles-what it meant.
“Picard to Riker. Do you read?”
He flinched again, startled by the completely different voice that suddenly pelted through his com system, and tapped the right pressure points. “Data, stand by.” The screen winked off, and he hit another link. “Enterprise, this is Riker.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing out there, Number One?”
“I’m zeroing in on Data, Captain. I’ve almost got a transporter triangulation on him.”
“Have you got a lock on him? He’s out of low-power communication range with us.”
“Yes, sir I’m talking to him right now. At least I’m trying to.”
“Is he having any success with his hypothesis? He’s very likely the only being the entity’s happened upon who’s walking the line between living being and machine. He may be our only chance to communicate.”
“That’s true, sir, but I really think there’s more risk in that than profit, especially for Data.”
“Then don’t dally out there. Get a triangulation on him and we’ll beam you both in.