Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [17]
Data tilted his head to one side. “What courtesy is that, Lieutenant?”
“We can discuss that later,” Haftel interrupted. “I believe we should allow Dr. Crusher to examine Commander Maddox.”
“Yes, thank you, Admiral,” she said. “I’ve already performed a preliminary examination. The infirmary staff has done an excellent job treating the gross physical injuries, which are almost completely healed. The neural scan is a much different story, though. It’s confused and contradictory,” she said. “I’m almost tempted to say deliberately confused and contradictory, but I’d rather not speculate until I’ve run some tests and consulted with the attending physician.”
“Then we’ll leave you to your work, Doctor,” Haftel said. The admiral gestured toward the door. “In the meantime, I’d like to ask you and the rest of your crew a few questions, Captain.”
“Of course, Admiral,” Picard said as the rest adjourned to the corridor. “But I must confess our prior brief association with Commander Maddox notwithstanding, I’m unclear about why the Enterprise was summoned here. If I may ask, what exactly was Commander Maddox working on?”
Before Haftel could respond, Data said, “Commander Maddox finally found the breakthrough he was searching for. He was building a sentient android.”
Chapter Six
“I KNOW FROM COMMANDER MADDOX that you and he haven’t had much to say to each other recently,” Admiral Haftel said to Data sometime later. “Explain precisely how you came to this startling …”
“… but accurate …” Barclay added.
“… but accurate conclusion,” Haftel finished, barely glancing at Reg. As a working scientist, a cyberneticist of some renown himself, Haftel was, Riker observed, considerably more relaxed about protocol than most of the Admiralty. It was, he decided, probably as much common sense as anything. There was no point in expecting characters like Barclay and Lewis Zimmerman (reputedly even more eccentric than Reg) to toe the line, a lesson that Riker himself had had to learn the hard way.
The Enterprise party, Haftel and Barclay had relocated to a conference room in the Institute’s main administrative building. The walls were decorated with two-dees and holos of noteworthy researchers who had studied at the Institute, all of them subtly arranged so that the eye was led to the portrait of the great man himself, Richard Daystrom. The portrait was one Riker had never seen before, but, as in every image Riker had ever seen of the man, he thought that the inventor looked slightly worried, like he was wondering if he had left something running back in the lab.
Of course, Riker reflected, there’s no reason why genius should guarantee a happy—or even stable —outlook on life. He himself had shook hands, spoken with, and seen the reality behind the legend of, Zefram Cochrane, a man whom history painted as a paragon of human virtue. And from what little Riker knew about Daystrom—beyond what he had picked up in his Starfleet history courses—his had not been a particularly joyous life. So, what did it all mean? Deanna must have sensed that his mind was wandering because she half-turned in her chair, arched an eyebrow at him, then flicked her eyes toward Data. Pay attention, she was saying.
Data was saying, “… But we ceased to communicate on a regular basis when I refused to turn over the bodies of Lal and Lore to him. I believe he felt that I was being unreasonable. I meant no disrespect to him, Admiral, and I attempted to resume our correspondence on several occasions, but Commander Maddox was … is … quite capable of ‘carrying a grudge.’ “
Haftel grunted in agreement. Apparently, Data’s assessment tallied with his own impressions. “Tell me what happened after you recovered Soong’s three prototypes? Did you speak with him during that period?”
“Speak?” Data asked, frowning. “Not as such, no. I first learned of the prototypes when I met Dr. Soong