Synthesis - James Swallow [79]
NINE
Riker stood at the tall, narrow window of his ready room, leaning forward on one arm, resting against the frame. Outside, blinks of light from welding drones were just visible where they were working on the starboard warp nacelle.
“I couldn’t get a read on it,” he admitted. “I don’t know if what I was seeing was the real thing or just a simulation.”
Behind him, his wife frowned. “Assume for a moment that it was real,” Deanna said. “Tell me what your gut feeling was.”
He glanced back at her and gave her a wan smile. “You’re the counselor in this marriage, not me.”
“You’ve picked up some of my good habits. Don’t think before you answer, Will. Just give me the first impressions that come into your mind.”
The captain pictured the avatar in his thoughts. “Intelligent,” he said. “Defiant. Afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of us, of me, I think.” Riker folded his arms. “I’ll tell you what it felt like. It was like listening to me talking to my father when I was fifteen years old. Only this time, I’m the parent who thinks he knows best.”
“You think she’s like a child, then? That could explain some aspects of her behavior.”
“More like a moody teenager. One with the power of a cutting-edge starship at her fingertips.”
Troi crossed the room, thinking aloud. “I’ve spoken to Xin, to Torvig and Chaka. All of them noted similar behavior patterns to the ones you described.” She sighed. “A persona in flux, trying to find stability, to know itself.”
“Can that be possible? From newborn intelligence to awkward adolescent in a day? If she’s evolving that fast, how long before she reaches the equivalent of adulthood or beyond?”
Troi shrugged. “I’m not even sure we can measure the avatar’s development against humanoid standards.” She paused. “And did you notice? You referred to her as ‘she’ just then, not ‘it.’ ”
Riker nodded to himself. “So I did. It’s hard to keep that in mind. She’s not like any other artificial intelligence I’ve ever come across, not since Data and the other Soong androids. Even the original Minuet the Bynars created doesn’t hold a candle to her.” He sighed. “She’s alive, Deanna. Don’t ask me how to explain it, I just know it.”
Troi spared him a smile. “There’s the gut feeling I wanted.” Then the smile faded. “As for the rest of the crew… there’s a lot of mixed reactions to her, mostly concern.”
“Their ship is suddenly talking back to them. I’d say some anxiety is justified.”
“It’s more than that. People feel suspicious. They’re afraid they’re being watched in everything they do and say. There’s no privacy from something that’s inside every screen, every replicator or companel.”
The captain nodded again, thinking of the clandestine meeting he had been forced to hold aboard the La Rocca. “I know. Ensign Torvig spoke to the avatar about that, and she agreed she wouldn’t monitor private quarters or areas I designated as off-limits.” He gestured around the ready room. “Like this one. It wasn’t an easy sell, though. Titan’s computer system usually monitors all spaces throughout the ship automatically, all the time.”
“But not usually with an intelligent mind behind them. Cutting off that observation… she would see that as a dereliction of her duties,” said Troi, thinking it through.
“Just to be sure, I’ve got the Rossini ensigns leading teams to set up cut-out triggers on the sensor links, in all sensitive areas of the ship.”
“That’s not a gesture of trust,” Troi noted.
“That word again.” Riker gave her a look and spread his hands, palms up. “Right now, I’m fresh out.” He turned back to the window and paused. The fast-moving motes of the Sentry repair drones were gone. He peered forward, his eyes narrowing. Outside, along the inner surface of the AI spacedock, chaser lights were blinking in a two-one sequence, over and over.
Troi sensed the new tension in him. “Imzadi, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure.”
A tone sounded from the monitor on the captain’s desk, and he stabbed at it. “This is Riker.”
“Captain,” said Vale. “You’d better get out here.”
The ready-room