Synthesis - James Swallow [95]
The avatar halted that train of thought, however. Despite her dissimilarity to his species archetype, Torvig found himself compelled by her presence, and in moments when the hologram was not around, he found his thoughts drifting toward her and what she represented.
“Hello again,” he said brightly. “Can I help you with something?” It was a specious question to ask, and he realized it as soon as he said it. She was the ship, after all. There’s little I can do for her that she can’t.
“Your advice would be welcomed, Ensign. I have made mistakes, I think.” She spoke haltingly. “Errors in judgment.”
Torvig didn’t nod, but he knew what she was referring to. Bad news travels faster than light, as Ranul Keru was fond of saying, and reports of what had transpired on the bridge during the engagement with the Null had already reached down to the engineering levels.
“I spoke with Melora,” she continued. “She showed emotional cues that were clearly the by-product of a marked resentment toward me. And then I angered the captain…” The avatar fell silent, her face stiffening.
“What do you want me to say?” Torvig watched her steadily. “You disregarded his authority in front of the entire bridge crew.”
“I did what I thought was right!” she insisted, her tone rising. “I wanted to make sure every one of my crew was safe. The captain, his wife and daughter, Melora and Xin, you…”
“And your own life. You wanted to preserve your own existence.”
“Of course. Is that wrong of me?”
“Maybe you were more afraid for yourself than you were for the existence of others.”
“No…” she began, looking away. “Yes, perhaps in a way, but I was trying to save lives.”
Torvig pursed his lips. It felt a little odd for him to be having this conversation, to be suddenly cast in the role of one teaching another, instead of being the one doing the learning. During his time aboard the Titan, the Choblik had frequently run into predicaments where his lack of familiarity about the manners and mores of other beings had been the cause of friction. He thought of Ranul Keru. The two of them had not had an auspicious start to their association, and yet, almost two years later, they were fast friends and trusted colleagues.
“You were not wrong,” Torvig told her, “but neither was the captain. You wanted him to rely on you to preserve the ship, but you have to rely on him not to risk any of us without good cause.”
“We could have been obliterated by the Null,” she insisted.
“But we weren’t,” he replied. “Because this crew follows Captain Riker’s example and performs to the very best of their abilities.”
For a long moment, the avatar did not speak. “I think I am disliked. I hear things that are said about me. I read their expressions. Many of the crew resent my existence. They are prejudiced against me.”
“It’s not that,” Torvig insisted. “When I first joined this ship, there were some who prejudged me because of my cybernetics.”
She nodded. “Yes, I know. Your personal logs speak of it.”
And of course, she would be able to read those entries; they’re a part of her memory banks, after all. He nodded and went on. “In a way, I was a reminder of something they were afraid of, and at first, trust was difficult for me to find. Some of my actions…” The Choblik sniffed in a dry chuckle. “Well, let’s just say I didn’t do myself any favors.”
“But they trust you now?” The raw need in her tone was just below the