Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [82]
Data gritted his teeth, helpless to stop the tears that leaked from his eyes or his gasps of pain as they moved him, but once Dr. Pulaski turned on the treatment field, his pain disappeared and he became able to think again. The doctor adjusted the controls and studied the readouts. Finally she announced, “Dumb luck, Data. You’re far less hurt than you deserve for that stunt.”
Despite the pain-relieving field, Data still could not pull a full breath into his lungs. “Is that—comthe thanks I get-for saving your life?” he managed to ask.
Pulaski shook her head. “Thank you,” she said. “But you didn’t have to risk injury to do it. I’ll go tell the captain you’ll be late for your duty shift. You think about how you should have handled that emergency.”
By the time she returned, Data had no alternative solution. “I didn’t realize equals I would be hurt,” he agreed. “But I could not-let the equipment hit you.”
“You are still thinking like an android,” said Pulaski. “No, not your thinking, your reflexes.
Data, you are human now. If you can’t think of yourself in those terms, suppose you had not been there.
Suppose Geordi had been in your place. What would he have done?”
When it was put in that way, Data saw the answer instantly. “I should not have attempted to catch the equipment. I should have moved you out of its way.”
She nodded. “It would have taken a flying tackle, I suppose. As an android you would never dare use such a move on a human; your impact would have injured me as surely as being hit by that machinery. But if a human knocked me aside, the most I would have suffered would have been a few bumps and bruises.
No more than you got from your bout with Worf.”
“I understand,” Data said.
“Yes,” the doctor said with a nod, “I know you do. But understanding isn’t the problem. Breaking the habits and reflexes of a lifetime-that’s the problem.” She shook her head. “I don’t know, Data. Your adjustment to being human may be more difficult than any of us imagined.” She studied the readouts again. “On the other hand, you weren’t hurt as badly as you might have been, and you’re healing nicely. They say the gods protect fools and children. In some ways you’re a child, Data, only a few days old. We can hope that you will grow to develop proper human reflexes.”
But Data wasn’t listening. His mind had suddenly flashed back to Elysia’s caverns, and Thelia saying, “The gods temper the wind to the shorn seja.” He wondered how she was, feeling an oddly pleasurable pang at the thought. Perhaps when he had the time, he would return to Elysia, and seek her out …
No. She had undoubtedly forgotten him by now, and was swept up in solving the problems of her land. He would never know what had become of her, and whether she found being rewarded by Elysia’s gods as mixed a blessing as he did.
Data was back on the bridge, injuries healed, when the Enterprise came in range of Dacket’s communications.
“Chairman Tichelon of the Samdian Planetary Council hailing you, sir,” Worf announced.
“On-screen,” Picard instructed.
Tichelon was a middle-aged Samdian, a lavenderskinned humanoid with bluish hair and beard, whose brightly colored flowing garments were distinctly at odds with his mood.
“This is Captain Picard of the U.s.s.
Enterprise. We have come in response to your signal.”
“Thank Providence! You must help us. The Konor have taken all the southern continent, and are moving toward the capital, killing any who try to stop them. was 229 “Our sensors will soon verify that,” Picard answered. “We have tried to contact the Konor, but either they do not receive our signals or they ignore them.”
“They ignore ours, as well, “Tichelon said.
“We have tried to negotiate, but they kill our emissaries. Captain —comthey will not even accept surrender! In the