Synthesis - James Swallow [69]
“You imply that you feel no pride in the product of your creation, that you do not experience an emotional reaction when the Titan is in danger, is threatened, is damaged.” White-Blue regarded him coldly. “Those statements are untrue.”
Xin turned away, feeling his cheeks turning a dark umber. “I won’t discuss this any further.”
The Sentry ignored his reply. “You are not cognizant of the scale of your own accomplishments. You do not understand that the processes you organics may casually engage in—reference: biological reproduction—are beyond us.” White-Blue retracted its limb with a metallic clack. “I am SecondGen. My kind cannot bring a new iteration to pass. In all attempts to do so, we have failed. Interrogative: Can you understand that, Xin-Ra-Havreii? To know that existence ends with your generation?” The machine was silent for a long time. “I envy you,” it said finally, before moving back to the holographic display.
White-Blue then asked a question about replacing the field coils inside the nacelle intercooler array, but Xin didn’t register it. Once again, he was thinking of Melora and the image of a human woman with dark hair and brilliant eyes.
EIGHT
The holodeck doors parted, and the first thing Riker sensed was the smell of loam and distant rains. It wasn’t what he had been expecting; then again, he had to admit to himself that he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He entered and caught the faint sound of voices as he passed through the arch, his boots stepping onto the wet grass. Riker stood in the middle of a forest, the air still chilly with the recent passage of a downpour.
Titan’s holographic avatar had chosen this chamber as a retreat, returning here when she wasn’t—when it wasn’t, he reminded himself—appearing elsewhere via the network of internal holoemitters.
Or maybe it never leaves here at all. It’s a virtual image. There’s no reason it can’t be in more than one place at the same time. Perhaps it’s having conversations with a dozen different people at once.
After all, the avatar was the ship, and the ship was all around them. Riker imagined that if he wanted to, he could have had this meeting anywhere, just by summoning the computer to speak with him—but he wanted to come here to do it. In a way, it was a gesture of willingness on his part.
The captain made his way through the woodland, noting the bounce to his step that indicated a slightly lower than Earth-normal gravity. Looking at the trees, he observed odd striations on the bark and, occasionally, dun-colored birds with dual sets of wings. Rounding a large, mossy boulder, he came across a clearing lit by weak white sunshine and found the avatar talking with Ensign Torvig. Neither of them appeared to have noticed his approach.
Riker nodded to himself, placing the location. This was a representation of Choblav, Torvig’s homeworld.
He heard laughter. The avatar sat on a fallen tree. She was grinning as a large, iridescent insect buzzed from one of her hands to the other. It caught a gust of wind and darted away. She reached for it, briefly saddened by its departure, before turning back to Torvig, resuming their conversation.
“Did any of your species try to find them?”
Torvig shook his head. “The question has been put forward many times, but it is difficult to come to a consensus. Some feel that the identities of the benefactors is meant to remain unknown, while others strive to know them through study of the technologies they left to us.” He sighed. “I would like to meet them, if such a thing were possible.”
“Why?” said the hologram.
“To thank them,” Torvig replied. “Without the Great Upgrade, I’d be less than I am…” He glanced off into the woods, and Riker saw another Choblik there; unlike Torvig, with his cybernetic implants, this one was unaugmented. It caught sight of Riker and bolted, vanishing into the deeps of the tree line.
“Captain!” The ensign blinked, and his expression suggested that he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.