Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [15]
“Unlikely,” Data told her. “Whatever forces govern Elysia, they cannot grant the impossible.”
“Now isn’t that funny?” the doctor replied.
“You recognize that you want the impossible. That’s about as good a definition of being human as I’ve ever heard.”
“Doctor, we are in grave danger of being in agreement,” Dare said. “Data, your very desire for the impossible makes you one of us.”
“Which is not what we were proposing to bet on,” the doctor reminded him. “The question is whether Data can make strangers, not friends, accept him as the human he is modeled on.”
“Done,” Dare agreed, “the challenge to be implemented at the first opportunity that does not interfere with a mission.”
“Done,” said Dr. Pulaski, reaching across the table to shake Dare’s hand. “Now-what shall we bet?”
The conversation was interrupted by the chirp of combadges. “Mr. Worf, Mr. Data,” Captain Picard’s voice instructed. “Report to Briefing Room Three for away team assignment to Elysia.”
DATA FOUND GEOR-MORE LA FORGE already with Captain Picard in Briefing Room Three. The two were watching Commander Riker’s away team giving their report, which was being transmitted openly from the outskirts of a small city the natives knew as “Quinaria.” Elysians stood all about them, looking curiously at the tricorders but exhibiting no hostility.
“I sense open welcome from these people, Captain,” Counselor Deanna Troi was saying. “If they pose a threat to us, they are not aware of it.” The counselor’s long hair was drawn back from her face and fastened with a thong at the nape of her neck in the same style Data could see worn by native women in the picture.
“Mr. Riker, please explain this situation.”
Picard demanded. “Under no circumstances were these people to be approached-was “We didn’t approach them, sir,” Riker’s voice interrupted. “They came to us.”
The picture jolted for a moment, then steadied as their first officer apparently handed his tricorder to someone else in the party and stepped into view. He had combed his hair down into bangs such as the native males wore; with the beard he had recently grown he looked rustic enough to pass, as long as the hood of his tunic hid the fact that his hair was much shorter in the back than the Elysians’. Riker spoke again.
“We meant to pass on by them, exchange greetings as per our orders, and then go back to our studies when they were out of sight.” “But it turned out,” Troi took up the story, “that they had been sent in search of us-they had been told to expect a visit from “strangers from a far land.” But let Drahanna, their Speaker, explain.”
Troi beckoned an Elysian woman into the picture. She was tall, middle aged, with iron-gray hair and hazel eyes that looked with steady curiosity into the lens. “If I speak to this object, your leader will hear me?” “I will hear you, Drahanna,” Picard replied.
The only sign of surprise the woman gave was a slight widening of her eyes. “The gods told me of your magical implements, and that you are on a Quest far greater than any of our people have achieved. We have been instructed to make you welcome, and told that among you are some who are very different from ourselves. We are preparing a feast in your honor, oh blessed of the gods. Please join us, and allow us to aid you on your journey.”
“We are honored,” Picard replied.
“‘Thank you for making welcome those we sent ahead.
Now I must speak to my people.”
Drahanna moved away. After a moment, Riker said, “We’re out of range, Captain. Whatever it is the Elysians call gods seem to know a great deal about us. We haven’t detected them, though. The natives apparently think we’ve come across the swamp from another