Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [63]
Picard turned and gave Data a puzzled frown. “Thank you, Mr. Data. Continue assigning Wesley’s lessons as you have done thus far. You may return to your post. If you have time, run the navigation test programs; I want you requalified as rapidly as possible.”
Requalified? Data had understood that his physical abilities and emotional health were under question, but not his ability to fulfill his day-to-day duties. He started to protest, but quickly changed his mind; after all, he didn’t know what gaps in his active memory might have been left by his experience on Elysia. The fact that he had not yet found any did not mean there were none.
The requalification process was required of any officer who had been away from active duty on a starship for six months or more. Picard’s applying it to someone coping with an entirely new physical structure was only common sense.
But how long would it take? And … what if the process should reveal deficiencies that could not be quickly remedied? If he had to return to the Academy 174 for retraining, he could be assigned to another shipbut the Enterprise was where he had found a home, made true friends, and-now quite literally-come alive, “Yes, sir,” Data told the captain, and headed for his post, determined to requalify as rapidly as he could. If there was any way to prevent it, he had no intention of losing his home, and friends, aboard the Enterprise.
DATA wAs BACK ON DUTY at navigation. The regular rotation of crew members had brought Ensign Serena Gibson to the Ops position. As they were in routine flight, the standard rotation, designed to give all qualified personnel bridge experience, would continue until they came within range of the conflict. After that only experienced officers would man the bridge. Gibson looked over at Data as he took over the helm from Wesley Crusher, who moved to the science post on the upper bridge. “If you have any questions,” Data told her, “feel free to ask.”
She dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to stare at. you. What happened to you is all over the ship. I will save my questions until after duty shift.” And she turned her full attention to the board in front of her. Data frowned at his board. He had not meant to imply that she should ask personal questions on the bridge; in familiar surroundings he was, in fact, starting to forget for minutes at a time that anything out of the ordinary had happened to him.
Until he was forcefully reminded. He keyed his I.d. into the navigation console, and the helm log scrolled past in the blink of an eye. Hoping no one had noticed, he set it to human reading speed, and brought himself up to date.
They were on course for the Samdian Sector, just below maximum warp, all systems normal. The viewscreen showed only passing stars.
Data glanced over at Gibson. He did not know her well, could not recall ever having a conversation of any length with her. Did that mean they had never had one, or that his memory had human gaps in it?
Surely. he would not have forgotten such a lovely woman. Gibson was blond, and wore her hair softly loose on her shoulders. Starfleet uniforms left no one’s figure to the imagination, and hers was lithe and graceful. She smelled of something cleanly sweet and- “Am I doing something wrong, Mr. Data?” she asked when she noticed him studying her.
“Oh-no. Just keep on with what you’re doing,” he replied, turning back to his board in embarrassment. He would have to cultivate the human ability to shut out the overwhelming load of sensory information when he was on duty. Determined not to be chased off the bridge when the Enterprise reached its destination, Data called up the helm testing program and began going through the exercises. It was programmed with random situations, designed to test the user in a variety of navigational situations. Of course the tests would instantly disappear from the board if sensors detected any reason for the helm console to be operative. Data did not have to worry about his frightening inability to divide his 177 attention like an