Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [82]
But it was hard to leave the room—this museum, this … what? Shrine? These devices and beings were his ancestors and distant cousins. He spotted a large desk in the corner, a workstation of some sort, and wondered if it had an intercom. Data noted that he still had his combadge, which was some comfort, but he didn’t know if the station’s systems would recognize the signal. He might be able to contact Rhea, he knew, but something made him hesitate. He remembered the sight of her opening her arm and showing the wires underneath, the slight embarrassment in her voice as she said, Looks like you found me, Sherlock, and Data decided he wasn’t quite ready to see her. Not yet.
Leaning over the desk, he realized that it wasn’t a desk at all, but another display item, another computer console. Studying it in detail in the low light was difficult, but Data’s eyes were adapted to function with much less. He quickly saw that the console conformed to the design standards developed by the Federation almost a hundred years earlier. He didn’t touch the surface for fear of inadvertently activating something, but a moment’s search was all that was required to find a label. He almost laughed when he read it and said aloud, “How fitting.”
From behind him Data heard Vaslovik say, “That’s the only one here that can still function. Not that we leave it turned on, of course.”
Data turned and saw the man framed by the doorway, the bright light from the hall casting a long shadow before him. It was impossible to read Vaslovik’s expression, but Data had the definite impression that he was awaiting Data’s judgment.
“Why not?” Data asked. “Certainly it could do no harm unless it was tied into your network.”
“But it is,” Vaslovik said. “Temporarily, anyway, for study. We had to do some minor repair work. It had been rather badly neglected for many years, I’m afraid.”
“And now you will protect it here, as part of this collection,” Data remarked. “Is that what this is to you? A collection? Have I been saved so that I may take my place in it? I have been part of a collection, sir. I found it unacceptable.”
Vaslovik shook his head. “No, not a collection, not in the sense you suggest. That would be demeaning.”
“Then what? Why are they all here?”
“Because they had no one to speak for them while they lived.”
“So you see yourself as their advocate?”
“More a soldier than an advocate. This is a war, after all. I have been at war for the past century.”
Data shook his head in confusion. “I am sorry, Professor, but I do not understand. A war against whom? Or what?”
“Against arrogance,” Vaslovik said sternly. “Against genius without conscience.”
Data sensed that he had arrived at the heart of the matter and paused to consider his next question. Then, slowly, he strode to the case holding the Rayna android and studied it carefully. He asked, “And was she the catalyst of your war?”
Vaslovik flinched as if he had been flicked by a lash. Then, slowly, he grinned, but there was no warmth in it, no humor. It was the smile of a master swordsman acknowledging an opponent’s touch. “I see your mind is as sharp as your creator’s. Yes, Data, I am Flint—or, if you prefer, Akharin. I assume your starship captains make their logs available for study and that you, unlike most cadets, actually read and retained most of the information therein?”
Data said, “I have had reason on several occasions to consult Captain Kirk’s logs, but, even if I had not, surely you can see why the story of an immortal android maker would hold some interest for me.”
Vaslovik smiled, this time a genuine smile. “Of course. As you have obviously surmised, I did not lose my immortal constitution, but merely misled his medical officer. Dr… .”
“McCoy.”
“Yes, McCoy … Well, you see, immortality is not a guarantee for a faultless memory, Data. Sometimes, at night when I cannot sleep, I lay awake and try to remember the names of all