Star Trek_ Generations - J M. Dillard [85]
The android nodded, and said, with the faintest trace of ingenuous pride, It has been difficult, but I believe I have the situation under control.
So youve decided not to remove the emotion chip?
For now, Data said, gazing out at the wreckage. At first I was not prepared for the unpredictable nature of emotions … but after experiencing two hundred sixty-one distinct emotional states, I believe I have learned to control my feelings. He squared his shoulders with such touchingly innocent determination that Troi repressed a smile. They will no longer control me.
Well, Data, Troi replied approvingly, I hope that She broke off as her tricorder beeped, and stared down at the readout. Over here! She gestured excitedly at the android. I think Ive found something.
Data hurried over to her side, his eyes wide with hope.
Troi held out the tricorder so he could read it. One life sign, very faint.
He handed her his tricorder and dashed over to the source of the reading: a fallen bulkhead, which he pulled aside with preternatural strength. Beneath it lay metal fragments and the scattered contents of storage containersshredded uniforms, boots, food, medical suppliesall of which Data dug through with eager swiftness, until he arrived at a piece of plating.
He flung it aside to reveal Spot, wedged safely beneath the rubble. She gazed up at the android and released a throaty, plaintive yowl.
Spot! Data crouched down, scooped up the cat, and buried his face in her striped red fur; she immediately began purring, so loudly and enthusiastically that Troi released a soft, delighted laugh.
I am very happy to find you, Spot, Data murmured, cradling the animal against his chest.
Another family reunited. Troi could not repress a huge grin. She picked her way through the debris and stood beside the crouching android, bending down to give Spot a pat.
Data turned, revealing golden eyes ashine with tears; Trois smile faded at once. Data, she asked softly, surprised and touched at the sight, are you all right?
He gave a small, sheepish shrug, causing a single glistening drop to spill down his pale cheek. I am not sure, Counselor. I am happy to see Spot … and yet I am crying. The chip must be malfunctioning.
Troi gently placed a hand on his arm. No, Data. I think its working perfectly.
He looked up at her and smiled through his tears.
In the wreckage of the ready room, Picard bent low, sifting through the remnants of the past.
He had learned from Soran the foolishness of grasping at what was gone and could not be regained, at what was by its very nature impermanent. There were many belongings here that had been destroyed; things that he had valued, that he would miss. Yet they seemed now unimportant in the light of his experience in the nexus. And they were, after all, only things, even if some of them were unique and could not be replaced.
Only one of those things mattered to him now. He would accept its loss, if he must; but the rest he would let go willingly, even cheerfully, if this one could be retrieved …
Is this it? Riker called.
Picard turned to gaze over at his second-in-command, who stood in the midst of the overturned furniture and scattered personal effects, holding up a large dust-covered binder.
Yes, Picard said; the word served as a sigh of relief. Yes, Number One. Thank you.
He and Riker picked their way to each other. Picard took the album gratefully. The embossed cover had been torn, but it appeared otherwise unharmed; he brushed away the dust and opened it reverently to the last few photos of his grinning nephew.
Riker stood beside him, hands on hips, looking out at the devastation. Im going to miss this ship. She went before her time.
Picard glanced up from the album, closed it carefully, and followed Rikers gaze. Its not how many years youve lived, Will … but how youve lived them. He paused. Someone once told