The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [68]
“What about Counselor Troi? She and Will share a special … bond. Is it possible that if she called to him, using her empathic abilities as well as her voice, she could reach him?”
Crusher hesitated. “That might be possible. But if I awaken Troi, she’ll be subjected to all the mental trauma that’s pervading the ship. It would be risky.”
“You could monitor her condition, and if the stress was too great, you could sedate her again.” Picard glanced over at the counselor’s sleeping form. “If Deanna knew that Will needed her, she would want to help him, no matter what the risk to herself,” he said quietly. “I know that, and you do, too, Beverly.”
The red-haired chief medical officer stared down at Riker’s face for nearly a minute in silence, then she looked back up slowly, her blue eyes brightening. “I may have thought of a way,” she whispered. “If only it would work …”
“If only what would work, Doctor?” Picard demanded.
“When Commander Riker contracted that illness from the alien plant, they monitored nearly every area of his cerebral cortex while they were attempting to discover which kinds of memories would kill the invading virus,” Crusher began.
“Go on,” the captain said.
“Thus, I have extremely complete data on the commander’s brain—more so than I have for nearly anyone else on board. If I could bring Counselor Troi into consciousness but get her to channel her awareness so that she is only linked with Commander Riker, instead of open to receive the mental trauma of the entire ship—” She pounded her fist into her palm, her expression growing increasingly excited. “She could focus on the proper area of Riker’s mind and let him know that he’s safe. Jean-Luc, it could work!”
The captain nodded, his eyes glinting with satisfaction and respect. “Make it so, Doctor.”
Beverly nodded. “I’ll let you know when we make the attempt.” Picard nodded and turned to go. “And Captain …”
He turned back. “Yes, Doctor?”
“I intend to recommend Doctor Gavar for a Medal of Valor.”
“I was going to suggest something of the sort myself, Doctor,” the captain said. “I will gladly second your recommendation. By the way, I would like the doctor to be present at the away team’s debriefing.” He glanced down at his unconscious second-in-command. “As soon as Commander Riker can join us.”
“I understand, Captain,” Crusher said. “I’ll begin immediately.”
“What is it?” asked a voice. The sound penetrated, awakening, for the first time, conscious thought. “It’s not human, is it?”
Knowledge entered, an automatic reply to the questions, knowledge that had been stored, waiting, for a moment such as this. The being who responded to the personal designation of “Data” opened his—
(Am I a “he”? he questioned the automatic self-designation that had come to him, and the immediate internal response was: Yes, my programming and body were designed with male attributes.)
—eyes and gazed upon the first sights he had ever consciously beheld.
Faces surrounded him, faces his programming recognized as belonging to the category of “human.” Two men and one woman. He was pleasantly surprised to realize that he had no difficulty in distinguishing the gender differences.
(I must have been programmed with extensive information and discrimination capabilities. That is good. Information is valuable, and contributes to knowledge and wisdom.)
“Looks like some kind of robot,” replied a different voice.
Again knowledge sparked, and Data found his body’s mouth opening. “I am not a robot,” he said. “I am an android. I am called Data.”
The humans drew back, startled and somewhat distressed. “It talks!” the first human male to speak blurted.
“Indeed I do,” Data replied. He sat up and moved his head to regard his surroundings. He was sitting upon a smooth slab of stone within a rock-walled niche. Beyond the bodies of the humans he could see more gray stone and a flight of steps cut