Survivors - Jean Lorrah [10]
“We will reach full impulse within seven minutes,” Data said without looking up.
“Have you added telepathy to your abilities?” Yar asked.
That brought a startled glance of his golden eyes. “It … was a logical assumption that you wished to know, Lieutenant,” he replied. “Of course you could have deduced it yourself from the information on the console screen.”
“Not so quickly, though,” she said. “You have begun frequently volunteering information, Data.”
“Yes. I must learn when it is appropriate and when it is not. I should not have done so for Wesley, on the bridge.”
“He asked you.”
“Not directly. I recognized a learning situation, and should have waited, giving him the opportunity to act in an appropriate manner for a Starfleet officer-in-training.”
“I, on the other hand,” Yar assured him, “learned that particular lesson years ago. Besides, on this bridge, you are in command.”
Data gave his slight, pleasant smile. “You are one officer who has never challenged my rank.”
“Why should I? You’ve earned it, or you wouldn’t have it. Starfleet is hardly prodigal with promotions.”
“There are many who think it was prodigal with mine,” the android replied. At her questioning frown, he added, “It is a matter of record. The question of whether to promote me beyond Lieutenant was actually brought before a meeting of Starfleet Command. Nor was the final decision unanimous. There are those who feel that an android has no place as a line officer frequently placed in charge of a starship and with the potential one day to command one.”
“Is that what you hope to do, eventually?” Yar asked, fascinated by the turn in the conversation.
“No,” Data replied. “That is Commander Riker’s dream, not mine. I was not designed to command humans.” He sat back in his chair, with the characteristic slightly mechanical movement of his head that, paradoxically, indicated that he was as confused as any human. “I do not understand the desire for power, Tasha. All my life, since I first came to consciousness, I had assumed an android could not experience such a drive: we are designed to serve, not to rule. And then … we found Lore.”
“Lore was a mistake,” said Yar. “You’re an improvement on him, Data.”
“Perhaps. But what if my design flaws are simply not so immediately obvious?”
“Then you’d be just like the rest of us,” Yar told him, “striving to overcome our flaws and make ourselves better.” At his look of surprise, she laughed. “I know you want to be human, Data-“
“No,” he said.
“No? But I thought you had said-?”
“Commander Riker said it that way, and at the time it was not appropriate to challenge his terminology. I wish I were human,” Data corrected. “To want the impossible is self-defeating and can end only in frustration. To wish for an unattainable goal, however, may mean achieving possible ones that one might not otherwise consider.”
Yar nodded. “I like that-I’ll remember it, Data, because you’ve voiced something I’ve learned myself, only I never could put it into words. I’ve sometimes questioned my own goal of becoming … the ideal Starfleet officer. Perfect. Never a wrong decision or a breach of honor. There is no such thing, but at one time I thought there was.”
Data again gave her his smile, this time teasing, “Nobody’s … perfect?”
“No, not even you,” she laughed. He did not; light humor, especially irony or even whimsy, was within the android’s range of emotions, but the indefinable humor that caused people to laugh was still beyond him. Yar had no doubt, though, that one day experience would bring Data the gift of laughter … and then he would be more human than just about anyone else she knew.
Data appreciated the company of Tasha Yar. For a considerable time-ever since the event which “never happened”- he had wondered if she was deliberately avoiding his company. He understood