Myriad Universes 02_ Echoes and Refractions - Keith R. A. DeCandido [208]
“And what of Lore?” Picard asked, gently.
It had taken long decades, but working with researchers at the Daystrom Institute, Data had finally managed to correct the faults in his elder brother’s programming, and far from being a near-insane proponent of mass murder, he was now one of the leading advocates for endangered organic species in the Federation.
“Still hard at work, as always. We visit every few weeks, regardless of where our travels take us. Family is something to be cherished, don’t you think?”
Picard smiled, nodding, remembering how the extra decades granted by their extended lives in artificial bodies had helped heal the rifts with his own estranged brother.
“And you, Jean-Luc? Off to some dig or other?”
“You know me too well, old friend,” Picard said with a smile. “I’m leading an archaeological expedition on a planet a few light-years from here. Bajoran artifacts millennia old have been unearthed, suggesting prehistoric contact between the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants.”
“A subspace wormhole, perhaps?”
“That’s the prevalent theory. But Data, you should see some of the treasures we’ve been pulling out of the ground.”
Once, Picard could never have hoped ever to have heard of such a find, much less investigate it himself. At several thousand light-years away, it would have taken him the rest of his natural lifetime to reach the dig site, even at maximum warp. That was when he still had a natural lifetime, of course.
More than any other discovery since the invention of the warp drive, the gateway had changed the way that worlds interacted, and the way that people lived. Now, someone could walk from one world to another in the blink of an eye, and from one side of the galaxy to the other in a matter of minutes. And in artificial bodies, like the one Picard had worn since the death of his original body years before, travelers were confident that they could survive any injury, and in virtually any environment. The opportunities for archaeological exploration alone had opened up enormously when researchers suddenly didn’t need to breathe oxygen any longer, or require atmospheric pressure or its equivalent to hold their insides in.
“But tell me about this Dominion, Data,” Picard said, steering his friend toward a low bench, from which they could watch the setting sun. “I’ve heard what’s been said about them on the subspace network, but haven’t spoken directly with anyone who’s dealt with them.”
“They are…uncertain, I suppose you could say. For generations, the Dominion has been a highly regimented hierarchy, and they view with some trepidation the more egalitarian qualities of the Federation.” He sat on the bench, and crossed one leg over the other. “I can’t really blame them, of course. Theirs is a culture in which everyone knows their place and role, to which they are not only born, but also for which they have often been genetically engineered. Authority descends from the top, and there is no social mobility. Contrast that with the Federation and its countless species and civilizations, all instantaneously sharing new information, communicating through subspace networks linked by gateway relays, millions of worlds and trillions of individuals joined in a consensus linking all of their minds. The Dominion has a 'link’ of their own, of sorts, but it appears to encompass only the ruling caste of shapeshifters, with all the other species of the Dominion existing in virtual slave status beneath them.”
“Oh, I’m not too worried,” Picard said, smiling. “The Federation has dealt with slavers and oppressors before. No matter how odious they may seem at the outset, it is simply inevitable that their behavior and attitudes will change after exposure to the Federation’s ideals.” He laid a hand on Data’s shoulder in a comradely gesture. “And I can think of no one better suited to the task of helping them through that difficult change than you.”
“Change,” Data repeated, wistfully. “Tell me, Jean-Luc, do you ever think back to the Prime Directive? Think of the years Starfleet spent, its actions limited by the first contact