The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [77]
“Yes, sir,” replied the android steadily. “I do. I would not have made the suggestion were I not willing to carry it through, Captain.”
“But there’s no guarantee that once we change your circuitry and programming we can return you to your present state, Data,” La Forge said. “You could be volunteering for the equivalent of a …”—he shook his head warningly—”a suicide mission!”
“I am willing to take that risk, Geordi. I believe that you are correct in saying that the artifact constitutes a treasure. It may well be the last memorial to a vanished race of beings. We will never know who they were, or what happened to them, or if any of them survived, unless the artifact can be studied by Federation archeologists.”
“But even if the tractor and emotional field surrounding the artifact were to be eliminated,” Riker said, “the environment aboard the artifact is so … insane. Archeologists couldn’t work over there. They couldn’t stand it any more than we could.”
“They might be able to do most of the preliminary work by robot probe,” Picard said. “Presented with a tantalizing mystery from the past such as the artifact, I feel sure they would find a way. However, that is not our concern. Our concern is Commander Data’s proposal.” He stared steadily at the android. “Data, how long would you anticipate it would take for your programming and circuitry to be altered to be compatible with the artifact’s environment?”
“At least an hour, Captain. Doctor Selar, Doctor Crusher, Wesley Crusher, and Geordi would be able to do much of it while I was turned off. I would not experience any distress or discomfort, sir. The only problem would be that once I was altered, and reactivated, I would then find the environment of the Enterprise extremely unsettling. I would have to be kept in very restricted, featureless surroundings until I could be beamed over.”
“If we darkened the transporter room and kept it silent—” Geordi began, his mind already racing ahead.
Picard raised a hand, stared at all of them in turn. “Gentlemen, I am willing to authorize this experiment, because I believe that Commander Data’s suggestion may prove feasible. However, whatever you need to do to him to accomplish this recalibration and reprogramming must be accomplished within the next ninety minutes. I cannot countenance waiting any longer than that. Remember that every hour more people experience the profound suffering the artifact can cause.”
Sobered, they all gazed back at him. Then Geordi shook himself and bounded eagerly to his feet. “Come on, Data, we’ve got a deadline to meet. Let’s shake a leg.”
“Shake a leg … ,” the android repeated, puzzled, as the two of them started for the door together. “Oh, I understand. You mean let us hurry, or quit dragging your …”
The android’s precise tones faded into the distance. Riker was grinning, but then his expression sobered. “I hope we don’t lose him because of this scheme, Captain.”
“A feeling I most definitely share, Number One,” Picard agreed soberly. “Let us cross our—”
A loud buzzing noise interrupted his words, and both officers glanced at Worf. The sedative still in his system had finally triumphed over the Klingon’s sense of duty, and he was fast asleep, slumped down on his spine, head tipped back. Extraordinary sounds emerged from his open mouth.
Riker winced theatrically. “I never heard a Klingon snore before,” he said. “Thank God when I was serving as first officer aboard the Pagh, the officers had private cabins.”
The captain was already on his feet. “Let us leave Sleeping Beauty to complete his interrupted nap, Number One.”
Quietly—though Picard was privately convinced that they could have galloped out on horseback without arousing the somnolent lieutenant—the two humans left the room.
Chapter Eleven
LIEUTENANT COMMANDER DATA walked down the corridor with a calm, unhurried step, carrying a box under his arm. Reaching the entrance to sickbay, he went inside. With part of his attention, he noted the crowded condition of the