Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [100]
To avoid more useless rehashing of the Samdian situation, Data told the engineer about the gaps in his memory. But there was no escaping the topic uppermost in everyone’s mind.
“I learned today that there can be things worse than to let someone die,” Data concluded. “I don’t know, Geordi. Is there an analogy there to what we are having to do-or rather not do,-about the Samdians?”
“We probably won’t know in our lifetimes,” Geordi replied, and turned to a subject on which he could offer advice. “You really didn’t remember that Theskians aren’t to be resuscitated? That’s in the required Social Anthropology course at the Academy, Data.”
“I didn’t take that course,” Data now remembered. “There were a number of courses in which the subject matter was just to be memorized, that I didn’t have to take.”
“But you must have tested out of it. I tested out of basic math and science, and went straight into the advanced courses.”
“It was different for an android,” Data explained. “I didn’t come there with that knowledge, as you did with math and science. But when a course was nothing but facts and statistics, the Academy computer just downloaded them into my memory banks. There was no need for me to take a test afterward; the information was there for me to access any time I needed it. The courses I had to participate in, and which I found very difficult, were the ethics and other philosophy courses-the ones without clear-cut right and wrong answers.”
“Yes. You still keep looking for neat solutions to messy problems. But don’t feel bad, Data; so do people who’ve been human a lot longer than you have.”
“What about the messy problem of not knowing where there are gaps in my memory?” Data asked.
“Geordi, the next one could kill someone, or jeopar-dize the ship.”
“Well, plug the gaps, man!”
Geordi said in tones of annoyance. “You know what’s missing; it’s all on your Academy transcript. Study the texts for all the courses that you originally downloaded, and then take the tests.
What’s the matter-you too lazy to take a little of the medicine you dole out to Wesley?”
“No. I will do that. At least I can resolve those problems that do have neat solutions.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then Geordi said, “I think this time Starfleet is wrong. The Prime Directive is a neat solution sometimes, but the Samdian situa, tion is a messy problem.
Dammit, why can’t the Konor just stay in their own territory and practice whatever beliefs they have among themselves?”
“Because they believe in manifest destiny,” Data replied. “To the Konor it would be wrong not to take what they believe to be rightly theirs. You weren’t in sickbay, Geordi. That Konor wasn’t making excuses for selfish acts. He honestly believes that Providence is … providing.
To him, we are an annoyance to be dealt with as efficiently as possible. That means if we, and everyone else who cannot project telepathically the way the Konor can, don’t knuckle under and become their willing servants, they’ll just kill us.”
“Unless we kill them first,” Geordi said.
“That,” Data said flatly, “is genocide.”
“So we warp away and let the Ferengi or the Romulans or the Orions do the dirty work.”
“This is why I was so confused by the ethics classes at the Academy,” Data said. “Sometimes there is no right solution, neat or messy. The best we can hope for is not to be caught in such a situation.
This time we didn’t get the best we could hope for.”
He stood. “Good night, Geordi.”
Data left for his quarters, intending to start restoring the Academy coursework that had disappeared along with his memory banks. Instead, when he passed the shelf of personal belongings at the entrance to his computer area, he picked up the crystal holograph base, set it on his desk, and conjured up Tasha Yar.
He had been far closer to Tasha than to Thralen, yet although her death had caused him sorrow, he had not known the aching grief he felt today. Tears slid down his face, unbidden. As an android he had had tear ducts, but they had functioned only to lubricate his