Ghost Ship - Diane Carey [93]
The bridge was ominously quiet now. The pit at the center of his soul wouldn’t fill. No matter how many of the helm’s light displays flashed and hummed to tell him things were being rapidly put together belowdecks, Geordi merely watched dispassionately. They’d been attacked once before, and engineers were quick learners. This repair would go two times faster than the previous ones. The ship and her complement would proceed to her mission, only slightly bruised from this incident, perhaps even stronger for it, but they would in the end simply move on. Such was sometimes the cost of winning. No real changes.
Except for the empty place beside him, which someone would fill, someone else.
Bitterness filled his mind. What tribute would be made for an android’s sacrifice? What memorial would there be for Data? A burial in space, befitting a Starfleet hero, for the body lying empty and pulsing in sickbay, a body not yet dead, never to be reclaimed? Geordi wondered as he sat if he would be left to mourn alone. If Picard and Riker would clamor to define death as fervently as they had to define life. Or if it really mattered at all. Ultimately they had already failed Data, and nothing would make up for that.
He gazed now, through his visor, at the open space on the viewscreen. The remains of the gas giant still boiled in space like the remnants of some primordial explosion, ignorant of their own beauty or their own meaning. Much like Data, who hadn’t perceived his own charm or worth.
Geordi slouched in the chair, one elbow braced on the helm, and felt emptier still. He hadn’t realized how lost he’d become in his own thoughts until a hand dropped onto his shoulder. Someone wanted his attention, and only the discipline of Starfleet training brought him up through the murk and made him straighten and look.
But it was neither the lordly face of Picard nor Riker’s big-brother expression that looked down on him. What he saw was a warm infrared glow, a gentle face and a welcoming smile.
He spun out of his chair and knocked the helm console aside.
“Data … “
Data caught his arm and kept him from tripping over the Ops lounge, and kept grinning that warm little grin.
Behind him, Captain Picard, Dr. Crusher, and Wesley were watching the unexpected reunion as they too came away from the turbolift toward Geordi. On the ramp, Commander Riker was speechless as he broke away from Troi and came toward them.
“Data!” Geordi gasped again, clasping Data’s cool hand and looking deeply into the android’s eyes to see if it was indeed Data-and not just some weird new science nobody had told him about that could make the body walk around.
“Hello, my friend,” Data said, humility touching his tone. “I’m sorry to have put you through this.”
Geordi squeezed Data’s hand with both of his, desperate to feel the essence of life that simply refused to showcase itself, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Captain,” Riker blurted finally, “Doctor-what happened?”
“We’re not sure,” Beverly Crusher said with a one-shouldered shrug. “He just slowly came back and started looking around. He was disoriented for a while, but as you can see … “
Riker grasped Data’s arm and pulled him around-not too roughly, but not too gently either. “Data? You all right?”
The android nodded generously. “I feel a bit woofled, sir.”
“Do you know what happened to you?”
“Yes, sir. I think I croaked.”
Riker stared at him, suddenly breathless, and tried to absorb his presence. It simply wasn’t normal for the dead to get up again.
Data seemed sympathetic, or at least touched by Geordi and Riker’s reactions. “Truly,” he said, “I do not know what happened to me or why I returned. I can only surmise that when the creature got in trouble, it had to release those it was carrying and try to fight for its own existence. Of all the millions of life essences, I alone had a place to come back