Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [76]
Greyhorse’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “Right you are, Commander. Your logic is impeccable.” He looked around. “But everyone else has called it quits—yes?”
“That is true,” Data replied.
The doctor pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. “Too bad. I was hoping to lend a hand.”
“In what way?” the android asked, curious now.
Greyhorse shrugged again. “You know. With this damned slipstream problem we’ve run into. I come from a long line of engineers, and I’ve had some training in the field myself. I just thought that I might be of service.”
“I see,” Data said. “I apologize. I did not know of your engineering background.”
“It’s all right. No one does, really.”
“Are you familiar with the problem?” the android asked.
“Not exactly.” Greyhorse chuckled dryly. “Or to be more blunt about it, hardly at all. I just know that we’re caught up in a subspace phenomenon that’s affecting our velocity.”
Data nodded. “Allow me to give you a more detailed picture.”
And for the next half hour, that’s just what he did. For the doctor’s part, he listened intently, interrupting only once or twice when he needed something explained in greater detail. Toward the end of the briefing, he didn’t interrupt at all—a fact which Data took as a token of Greyhorse’s increasing understanding. As it turned out, he was right.
As soon as Data was finished, the man began to rattle off suggestions. Good ones too. But they had all been suggested—and rejected—already. And of course, Data was forced to say so. After a while Greyhorse’s enthusiasm began to wind down; he began to run dry of ideas.
“Lord,” he said, “I guess I was right to go into medicine after all. I wouldn’t have made a very good engineer.”
“On the contrary,” the android told him, “your suggestions were quite good. The fact that they were made already is a tribute to your ability, not a condemnation of it.” He saw Greyhorse’s expression take on new life. “Remember, Doctor, three of the finest engineering minds in the Federation could not do any better.”
The man looked at him. “Three? Who are you excluding, Data—not yourself, I trust?”
“I do not consider myself highly skilled in the area of engineering,” the android explained. “A good engineer, as I have been told time and again, is one part knowledge and two parts intuition. I certainly qualify in terms of knowledge, but intuition is one of my weak points.”
Greyhorse shook his head. “You know, Data, there’s intuition and there’s intuition. My relatives would fit your great-engineer model to a T. They’re intuitive as hell—when it comes to machines, at least. But put them in a room with other humans and they have as much intuition as the furniture. Same with me, I’m afraid. I never wanted to be like them, but…well, you know the saying. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I’m a whiz when it comes to dealing with people’s bodies. But when it comes to dealing with their minds—dealing with them as people—I’m a zero. A robot.” He smiled. “You, on the other hand, appear to be a machine. You believe yourself to be a machine. But trust me on this, Data. You’re more human—more intuitive in many respects—than the entire Greyhorse clan put together.”
The android found that hard to believe. He said so.
“You haven’t met the Greyhorse clan,” the doctor pointed out.
“No,” Data agreed. “But I have met you. And you do not seem to be lacking in positive human qualities.”
The doctor peered at him from beneath the ridge of his brow. “Appearances can be deceiving, Commander. Deep down I am a very uncaring person. You need an example?”
The android didn’t quite know what to say.
“I’ll give you one anyway,” Greyhorse offered. He leaned closer. “I know about the attack on Tricia Cadwallader. I walked into sickbay and saw her lying there, and your Dr. Crusher told me the whole story.”
Data was surprised, given the captain’s orders to keep the assassination attempts secret. However, he didn’t interrupt. He merely filed the information away for future consideration.
“I know,” the doctor continued,