Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [116]
Rhea returned the smile. “I was going to say something earlier, up in Data’s lab, but I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to be doing. It was a pleasure to serve with you, sir. Even if it wasn’t quite legitimate.”
“You would be a fine officer, Ms. McAdams,” Picard replied. “You were a fine officer. I’m sure Starfleet would love to have you if you were willing to go through the Academy.”
“Thank you, sir, but, no. Not right now, anyway. We’ll see what the future brings.”
“Safe travels, Rhea,” Picard said, then wandered away toward the back of the shuttlebay. Data watched him go, simultaneously grateful that he was there and slightly wary of how he should act while his captain was nearby. Rhea took the decision out of his hands. When he turned back around, her mouth was against his, her arms around his waist. When they parted, he was no longer thinking about Picard.
They walked slowly to the shuttlecraft door, holding hands like two teenage lovers who know they will have to say good-bye soon, but not until they reach the front door. “There’s one more thing I wanted to tell you,” Rhea said. “Something I’ve come to understand about you, and something you need to understand about yourself.” Data nodded, his eyes fixed on hers. “You’ve always believed that becoming human would be the ultimate achievement, the culmination of your personal evolution. I’m telling you that this may not be so; it might be only the first step on a much longer road.” She gripped his hand more tightly. “You have a potential that no other artificial life form possesses. Not me, not Sam, no one. That, I think, was what Soong was striving for when he created you: a life with no limits. And you’ve only just begun it.”
Data didn’t say anything in response. He did not know the right words.
“Good-bye, Data. For now.”
Data tried to say good-bye, but there was something wrong with his throat and the word came out in a croak. Rhea smiled, understanding.
The shuttlebay doors began to close even before the ship was out of sight. Data watched it go, a slightly brighter light in the field of stars. He heard Picard come up behind him and was pleased, even comforted, when the captain laid a companionable hand on his shoulder.
“As the Bard once said, Parting can be such sweet sorrow …”
Data watched as the shuttle running lights dwindled away into the black. “There are times, Captain,” Data sighed, “when the Bard does not even come close …”
Picard smiled. “I suppose you’re right.” He sighed, too, and pondered for a moment. “How about this, then? ‘I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world …’ “
Just before the bay doors shut, Data tore his gaze away and turned to look at his captain. The reference was not familiar. “Dixon Hill?” he asked, trying to place the quote.
Steering his friend toward the door, Picard said, “Close, but not exactly. I can’t believe I haven’t introduced you to this one, but it’s never too late. Once upon a time, there was a city called Casablanca …”
Epilogue, the First
Later that day … much, much later, after much talk and some work and many processing cycles, Data returned to his lab. He had no particular desire to do any work. He just wanted to look, perhaps to muse for a time. He was beginning to feel that musing might be something he could learn to be good at.
He called for the lights, turned toward the darkened crypts and then stopped, stunned (Somewhere, distantly, he was aware that he was grateful he now possessed the capacity to be stunned).
One of the crypts was empty.
He stood staring at it for one minute, then another. Then another.
At the end of the fourth minute (a very long time for an android), Data smiled.
Then, he turned off the lights and went to feed his cat.
Epilogue, the Second
Juliana opened her eyes.
She knew who she was. She knew what she was. For the first time, she knew everything. There came a moment of fear, of dislocation, of anxiety, then finally, curiosity.
She knew everything,