Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [72]
Sam stared blankly at Picard for several seconds, then pulled his hands out from behind his head, folded them in his lap, and sat up slightly straighter. “All right, Captain,” he said. “You’ve earned this. To begin, as you already know, I’m an android, or, if you don’t mind, an artificial sentient being. Technically, I believe the term ‘android’ refers to a mechanical device that has been constructed to look and act like a humanoid. You will be interested to know that there are a great many artificial sentients who choose not to wear humanoid forms.”
“How do you know that?” Picard asked. He realized he was beginning to feel anxious, like he wanted to gather as much information as quickly as possible. He had an uncomfortable sensation that events were beginning to overtake him and he needed to catch up.
Sam smiled at the question. “Because I’m well-acquainted with a number of them. You see, I’m a member of a loose fellowship of highly evolved and very ancient artificial sentients, who all outlived or outgrew the various species who created them. They … we … wander the galaxy, living, learning, and growing, sometimes making our homes among you organics, sometimes coming together to share our experiences … if only for short periods of time. We aren’t really what you would call a ‘culture.’ It’s more of a … well, think of us as a wine-tasting club: diverse individuals drawn together by our shared appreciation for the infinite flavors the universe has to offer.”
Sam could see that Picard was beginning to grasp the significance of what he was saying. “Not that all the conversations we share are on such a lofty plane. We’re not all like Data, you know, not all vast intellectual powerhouses, though most of the cultures that built us generally tried to incorporate some level of superior intelligence in their creations … with varying degrees of success. If we share any goal—if we have a ‘prime directive’ of our own—it’s to remain watchful for new attempts to create beings like us. Beings like Rhea McAdams.”
“Are you telling me she’s the holotronic android?” Picard asked. A dozen questions about how and why such an elaborate impersonation and infiltration of his ship could have been perpetrated came to his lips, but Picard forced himself to focus on the more immediate issues. “And the beings that attacked my officers and my ship … that caused the explosion in Commander Maddox’s lab … they’re androids, too?”
Sam nodded. “Yes to all your questions, though I should tell you right away that the androids who have been attacking you are not a part of my fellowship.”
“How can you be so certain?” Picard asked. “It doesn’t sound like you exactly keep tabs on each other.”
“True, but I’ve tried to keep tabs on our foes. I know exactly who they are.” He paused, then wet his lips with his tongue. A peculiar gesture, Picard thought, all things considered. “Have you ever heard of the planet Exo III, Captain?” he asked.
Picard searched his memory for a reference to the planet, then shook his head. “I’ve heard of the Exo system—or should say, seen it on star charts—but that particular planet? No.”
“What about Dr. Roger Korby?”
Picard’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course. The ‘Pasteur of archaeological medicine.’ His translations of the Orion medical databases are standard reading for both xenobiologists and archaeologists.” He ruminated for a moment. “Wait … Is Exo III the planet where Korby died?”
“Twice, actually, but bravo nonetheless,” Sam smiled. In response to Picard’s confused expression, he said, “We’ll get to that in a moment. Here’s the first thing you need to know. Long before Roger Korby died there, Exo III was home to a species of beings whose names wouldn’t translate terribly well into anything in your language. Korby called them ‘the Old Ones,’ which is, I suppose, more a comment on his literal-mindedness