Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [113]
“About the nanite colony?” Data asked as he sealed up the back of his head. He had just unplugged himself from the diagnostic computer and was pleased to find his recent adventures had left him none the worse for wear. In fact, if the readings were correct, it appeared that Vaslovik had uploaded several new programs while he had Data under his care. His first inclination had been to simply purge the files, but after some consideration, he had let them be. It was unlikely that Vaslovik would have installed anything harmful; judging by their size and configuration, they were probably data dumps from the station’s main computer. Obviously, the professor had had some premonitions about his station’s demise and wanted to preserve some part of his work. Data looked forward to examining the files … later.
“Yes, but also about the fate of the Exo III androids. They’re gone now, he claimed, but not destroyed.”
“They have become incorporated into the colony. Their memories, their distinctiveness, have been added to the whole.”
“Yes,” Picard agreed, but he seemed troubled. “And I can’t help but feel that I have contributed to the assimilation of the last of the species, something that I have fought in similar situations against the Borg.”
“The Borg enslave unwilling minds, Captain. The minds of the Exo III androids were already trapped and suffering. They were liberated by the nanites, and you helped to free them. They are at peace.”
“And Sam as well,” Picard said. “It’s a pity you didn’t get to meet him, Data. The fellowship of artificial intelligence he spoke of—it could be the answer to every question you’ve ever had about your life.”
“It does sound intriguing,” Data admitted. “And perhaps someday, I will encounter others from it. Or maybe they will encounter me. For now, however, I too am at peace with who I am. If these last few days have taught me anything, it is that whether I have all the time in the world, or die before anyone expects, what matters is that I not squander a single moment.”
Picard smiled. “A lesson for mortals and immortals both?”
“So I have come to believe, sir.” Data paused, then asked the question he felt he already knew the answer to. “Are you quite certain he is gone, Captain?”
“Professor Vaslovik? Oh, yes.” Picard made a gesture like a conjurer making a coin disappear. “Gone. No shuttlecraft missing, no unauthorized transporter use. No … anything. In addition to all his other identities, I would be willing to believe he was Prospero, too, and had simply wished himself off the ship. It’s driving Commander Riker to distraction.”
“We have seen evidence that he had more than one form of unknown technology at his disposal, Captain,” Data said as he began to dress. “I do not think Commander Riker should feel as if he has failed in any way. I believe Professor Vaslovik was quite adept at vanishing.”
“Indeed,” Picard replied. “I wonder who he will become next time?”
“I regret to say that it is unlikely we will ever know.”
“Yes,” the captain agreed, and Data thought he sounded wistful. “I was glad to have met him. He was a remarkable individual. Many remarkable individuals,” he amended. “Brahms, Leonardo, Alexander—who knows how many others? I seriously doubt the universe has seen the last of the man behind all those names.”
Their conversation was interrupted when the doors opened and Data saw Bruce Maddox and Reg Barclay standing in the doorway. “Dressed?” Reg asked, but he could already see for himself that Data was. Still, Data sensed the reason for the question and nodded. The pair stepped aside and, with some small flourishing of arms, both said, “Taa-dah.”
Rhea was standing there, smiling, newly restored, simultaneously delighted and slightly embarrassed by all the fuss. Maddox and Barclay had made excellent use of the supplies in Data’s lab; she looked,