Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [47]
Rhea looked around the room, orienting herself in time and space. “I don’t know,” she replied, rubbing at something in the corner of her mouth. “When did you leave?”
“Approximately two hours ago.”
“Then I think that’s when I fell asleep.” She looked down at Data’s legs. “It was his fault,” she said pointing at Spot. “He was sitting on my lap and … and … purring. It was very, what’s the word? Soporific.”
“He is a cat,” Data said. “That is what he does.”
“That’s not an excuse,” Rhea replied, smiling and rubbing her eyes. “Do you want some coffee? No, wait—of course you don’t. I do.” She stood, cracked her back, and walked stiffly toward the replicator. “Coffee, hot,” she said. “Double cream, one sugar.” The replicator chimed and she carefully removed the steaming cup. Blowing on the coffee, Rhea asked, “What news from the surface?”
Data shook his head. “Nothing very encouraging, except that the Intensive Care Unit now has a functional replicator.” Rhea regarded Data quizzically, but she didn’t ask for more detail and he didn’t offer any. He continued, “Did your analysis of the interviews with the Institute personnel yield any results?”
“Nothing very useful. I’ve decided that Commander Maddox was neither the most popular or unpopular person on campus. You might be interested to know that part of the reason some people don’t like him is because they feel his badgering you to return here for more studies actually alienated you.”
This surprised Data, who had never felt badgered by Maddox and couldn’t imagine why anyone would care. He expressed this opinion, causing Rhea to shake her head and chuckle. “You had no idea you’re a bit of a celebrity down there, did you?”
“No.”
Rhea finished her coffee, replaced the cup in the replicator and asked for a refill. “So, you’re modest, too. I don’t know what my mother would make of you.”
“Why would your mother care if I was modest?”
Removing the cup from the replicator, Rhea replied, “I think my mother had a fairly low opinion of men in general. She thought most of them were, well, she used to use the word, ‘phony.’ “
Data considered this. “I do not think I am phony,” Data replied, then paused. “However, I am artificial. Do you think that would have concerned her?”
“You know,” Rhea said, “I’ve been thinking about that myself the past couple days and the truth is, I don’t think she would care much at all. My mother wasn’t very concerned with where people came from. She was more interested in what they were made of.”
“I am composed of approximately 24.6 kilograms of tripolymer composites, 11.8 kilograms of molybdenumcobalt alloys and 11.8 kilograms of bioplast sheeting. My skull—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. I was trying to be funny.”
“Ah,” McAdams said. “I just woke up. I never get jokes for the first ten-or-so minutes after I wake up. File that away somewhere.” Data did so. “Anyway,” Rhea continued, “no, not much from the other researchers about Maddox. Concerning Vaslovik—well, there’s another story.”
“That is encouraging,” Data said.
“No,” Rhea replied. “You misunderstand. I mean … nobody knew anything about him. He didn’t work with anyone except Maddox, not even Barclay, really, though I think the lieutenant was embarrassed to admit that. Vaslovik never socialized with anyone, ever. Would you believe, no one even knew where he lived? The only way I could find out was to check the DIT personnel database, which had his address, but not much else.”
“Have you investigated his dwelling?”
“Not yet,” Rhea said. “I was waiting for you … and then I fell asleep. But I figure we can take a look later. That’s about what I’ve accomplished in the past, what? Twenty-four hours? Doesn’t seem like much. Anything new on your side?”
Data shook his head. “No, nothing.”
“What about an isolation suit? You know, the kind Starfleet personnel use to cloak themselves when conducting covert