Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [132]
Emotions surged around him: guilt and grief, anger and denial, and finally resignation and acceptance.
He knew the Konor answer before it was officially brought to him, although it astonished him anyway: yes, they would agree to make peace withand reparation to the Samdians of Dacket, and to accept a Starfleet mediator to help them make the treaty-but only if that Starfleet mediator were Data.
“I have removed the transmitter,” he told them, displaying the charred and lifeless object. “I can no longer communicate in your way.” “We can speak,” said the Chief Elder aloud, “and will do so in the negotiations. Providence sent you to teach us a harsh lesson, and we felt the pain it cost you to teach it. Please-help us to make amends as best we can.” “If my Captain agrees, I am willing,” Data said, “although we have people on board ship who specialize in diplomacy.” “Ah, but the Konor are right,” Picard said when Data contacted him. “You are the best negotiator under these circumstances.” So it was agreed, and Data returned to the Enterprise to contact Chairman Tichelon and set up a time and place for the negotiations. The Dacket chairman was flabbergasted that Starfleet had succeeded in persuading the Konor to negotiate, but when it penetrated that there was actually a chance to end the slaughter the man was close to tears. Counselor Troi acted as interpreter for the scene on the planet, which was too far away for most of the 368 Metamorphosis crew to follow the mental transmissions. And Geordi, who had been hovering at his side ever since he’d beamed up, took hold of Data’s arm. “Sickbay for you now, Data.” “I am all right,” Data assured him. “We’ll let Dr.
Pulaski decide that,” he said firmly.
“Let’s also see if the transmitter can be salvaged.” It could not, Dr. Pulaski discovered as she and Geordi carefully disengaged the charred and fused component from Data’s hand. It took less than an hour to restore the parts that had been damaged, then replace and seal up the synthoskin, which formed itself into Data’s own finger-and palmprints.
“Fascinating how it does that,” Geordi said. “You couldn’t change your fingerprints and start a life of crime.” “Why would I want to?” Data asked, flexing his hand. “If I wished to make a great deal of money easily, I would become a “card sharp.”” Pulaski laughed. “Don’t let any Klingons in the game, then,” she warned. “Hey-was Geordi said suddenly, “that reminds me comy just lost a bet, Doctor!” “I did?” Data could tell Pulaski was genuinely puzzled. He had no more idea than she did what Geordi meant until the engineer continued, “Remember the wager that at the next opportunity Data would attempt to pass for human? He certainly succeeded with the Konor!” Pulaski nodded, then smiled. “That is one bet I am only too happy to lose.” The smile became a grin as she told Data, “What irony! Only an android could 369 STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION resolve the Samdian situation, and only by demonstrating forcefully that you are not human, after they were firmly convinced otherwise.” Data smiled in return. For once, he completely understood the humor. As he started to slide off the examining table, though, Pulaski said, “Not so fast. Let’s have a look inside you.” “There is no damage,” Data assured her. “I have removed the extra connectors, so all I need do is seal up the skin.” But Geordi, too, insisted on seeing for himself, so Data had to lie back and let them probe. As he lay there, Data pondered, “I still know only what I am not. Will I ever know what I am?” “Why not be satisfied to be yourself, Data?”
Pulaski asked. “You are unique.” “But do I have a soul?” “I don’t know. It’s probably