Synthesis - James Swallow [149]
Riker gestured at the black night overhead. “The… fabric of this sector of space is wounded. You need to let it heal. Now you have that chance.”
When One-Five spoke again, it was with a slow thunder of feedback. “You tell us we must reject this technology. You tell us the single purpose at the core of our program is now irrelevant. The nature of these statements is difficult to process.”
Was there an element of fear behind those words? Riker held on to that thought and answered, “Your world has changed. The decision you need to make now is whether you are willing to change with it.”
Deanna took up the thread. “We are here today to speak with you and your society, to make a formal diplomatic overture to the Sentry Coalition on behalf of the United Federation of Planets. The Federation wants to help you forge a new future for yourselves.”
“We attacked you,” said Cyan-Gray. “I attacked you, damaged your craft, terminated the existence of three of your crew. One of our kind attempted to capture your ship and disassemble it. Despite these actions, you still extend to us a gesture of alliance.”
Riker nodded without hesitation. “Yes, we do. Throughout its history, the Federation has strived to make peace with its former adversaries. Because we have learned that in… in unity, we are all stronger.”
“Audacious words,” said the machine moon. “But answer this. Interrogative: What purpose do we have now? The Sentries know only one objective, the directive that we were built to pursue. Stop the Null.” There was a buzzing pause. “If that directive has now been fulfilled, then… what is to become of us?”
“Whatever you want,” Riker replied.
“The program your creators gave you has been completed,” said Deanna. “For the first time, you are free—to evolve, to go where you will, to become more than you are.”
After a long moment, Cyan-Gray spoke for all of the machines. “It is… a daunting prospect.”
Riker nodded. “So let us help you.”
The holodeck doors ground closed behind her, and Melora blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of the virtual space. She glanced around, immediately recognizing the layout of a tavern of some kind. On the walls, she found text in Federation Standard and a handful of cultural cues that suggested a Terran locale, something historical and noncontemporary. She smiled slightly; the ambience was close and intimate, and the air had a smoky, almost sensual feeling to it. Melora advanced, finally spotting a name etched in glass on the far wall.
“The Low Note,” she said to herself.
“No, no.” Melora heard Xin’s voice from deeper inside the room, and she followed it in. “No, again. Off. Off!” He sounded agitated.
She rounded the corner, catching the tinkle of a fading hologram, into an area where a low stage was wreathed in spotlights. Ra-Havreii was sitting on a chair with a bottle of something wine-dark on the table next to him. A half-full glass sat next to it, and she saw immediately that the bottle had been drained quite a bit already.
“Xin?”
He turned to her with a start, and his expression veered from shock to shame before finally settling on annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
She frowned; defensive behavior was the first place Xin went when he didn’t want to engage with her. “Looking for you. Torvig’s shift is over, and he was reporting in that the repairs are less than a day from completion.” Melora eyed him. “So, why aren’t you overseeing the final details?”
He looked away. “I was… I was just conducting an experiment. Wondering.” He reached for the glass.
“I hope that’s synthehol.” Her tone became kinder. “Xin, what are you doing in here? You’re supposed to be on duty. And besides, this isn’t your usual sort of haunt.”
“This is where she came from,” he said, a sadness in his tone that pulled at her. Xin put down the untouched glass. “Computer, run program Minuet Alpha.”
A female human phased into existence before them, and Melora gasped. “It’s the avatar.”
“My name is Minuet,” said the hologram, “and I