Chapter Thirteen

GEORDI LAFORGE SAT at his helm with depressingly little to do. The ship couldn’t move until the warp engine core was stabilized, and couldn’t leave the vicinity anyway, at least not yet. As soon as the immediate danger had blown itself to bits, their duty as a main Federation extension kicked in and they were obliged to make sure the area was secure before they even thought of moving on.

He was one of only five people on the bridge now. Worf and Tasha occupied the upper deck, feeding through the intricate readings that correlated the first repairs on the phaser lockup. The meltdown would take weeks to clean up and mend. Mr. Riker was on the upper deck, speaking quietly to Deanna Troi. The two of them had been talking for a long time. Under different circumstances, Geordi might have been more curious to know what they were talking about.

The bridge was ominously quiet now. The pit at the center of his soul wouldn’t fill. No matter how many of the helm’s light displays flashed and hummed to tell him things were being rapidly put together belowdecks, Geordi merely watched dispassionately. They’d been attacked once before, and engineers were quick learners. This repair would go two times faster than the previous ones. The ship and her complement would proceed to her mission, only slightly bruised from this incident, perhaps even stronger for it, but they would in the end simply move on. Such was sometimes the cost of winning. No real changes.

Except for the empty place beside him, which someone would fill, someone else.

Bitterness filled his mind. What tribute would be made for an android’s sacrifice? What memorial would there be for Data? A burial in space, befitting a Starfleet hero, for the body lying empty and pulsing in sickbay, a body not yet dead, never to be reclaimed? Geordi wondered as he sat if he would be left to mourn alone. If Picard and Riker would clamor to define death as fervently as they had to define life. Or if it really mattered at all. Ultimately they had already failed Data, and nothing would make up for that.

He gazed now, through his visor, at the open space on the viewscreen. The remains of the gas giant still boiled in space like the remnants of some primordial explosion, ignorant of their own beauty or their own meaning. Much like Data, who hadn’t perceived his own charm or worth.

Geordi slouched in the chair, one elbow braced on the helm, and felt emptier still. He hadn’t realized how lost he’d become in his own thoughts until a hand dropped onto his shoulder. Someone wanted his attention, and only the discipline of Starfleet training brought him up through the murk and made him straighten and look.

But it was neither the lordly face of Picard nor Riker’s big-brother expression that looked down on him. What he saw was a warm infrared glow, a gentle face and a welcoming smile.

He spun out of his chair and knocked the helm console aside.

“Data . . . ”

Data caught his arm and kept him from tripping over the Ops lounge, and kept grinning that warm little grin.

Behind him, Captain Picard, Dr. Crusher, and Wesley were watching the unexpected reunion as they too came away from the turbolift toward Geordi. On the ramp, Commander Riker was speechless as he broke away from Troi and came toward them.

“Data!” Geordi gasped again, clasping Data’s cool hand and looking deeply into the android’s eyes to see if it was indeed Data—and not just some weird new science nobody had told him about that could make the body walk around.

“Hello, my friend,” Data said, humility touching his tone. “I’m sorry to have put you through this.”

Geordi squeezed Data’s hand with both of his, desperate to feel the essence of life that simply refused to showcase itself, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Captain,” Riker blurted finally, “Doctor—what happened?”

“We’re not sure,” Beverly Crusher said with a one-shouldered shrug. “He just slowly came back and started looking around. He was disoriented for a while, but as you can see . . . ”

Riker grasped Data’s arm and pulled him around—not too roughly, but not too gently either. “Data? You all right?”

The android nodded generously. “I feel a bit woofled, sir.”

“Do you know what happened to you?”

“Yes, sir. I think I croaked.”

Riker stared at him, suddenly breathless, and tried to absorb his presence. It simply wasn’t normal for the dead to get up again.

Data seemed sympathetic, or at least touched by Geordi and Riker’s reactions. “Truly,” he said, “I do not know what happened to me or why I returned. I can only surmise that when the creature got in trouble, it had to release those it was carrying and try to fight for its own existence. Of all the millions of life essences, I alone had a place to come back to. Of course,” he added, “I am only guessing.”

Breathing quickly, Geordi glanced at the others then back to Data, and laughed his relief away.

“All right, all right,” Picard said tolerantly. “Riker, Data, and Mr. Crusher, I want you all waiting for me in my ready room in five minutes, clear?”

“Very clear, sir,” Riker murmured, but he was still looking at Data. Looking very protectively this time.

Data looked back, and gave him a grateful nod.


The three of them stood in the captain’s ready room, admittedly nervous.

For a few minutes they were companionably silent. Riker ultimately approached Data and held out his hand. “Congratulations. You’ve got the answer you wanted.”

Data took the hand, though he seemed self-conscious now. “Not really, sir. The phenomenon’s criteria for life was never clear to us.”

“Look,” Riker said, cutting him off, “as far as I’m concerned, that was the closest we’ve come to an authority on what life is. You may not be human, exactly, but it recognized something in you as alive. And . . . that’s good enough for me. I’m glad you’re back.”

The android tipped his head and responded, “Thank you for coming after me. That is, as you say, good enough for me.”

Wesley folded his lanky arms and commented, “Don’t get mushy, guys.”

Riker cuffed him. “When you’ve been dead and come back to life, you can talk about mushy, mister.”

“How much trouble do you think we’re in?”

With a small shrug, Riker said, “I don’t know about you, but I doubt the captain’ll be congratulating either Data or me on our ingenuity. Two utility ships lost, disobedience of standing orders—not very pretty.”

“At least neither of you melted down the whole phaser core,” Wesley commented sullenly.

“True, but we—”

The captain entered, and they all came to attention in front of his desk, simply because none of them wanted to look him in the eye. The captain came around his desk, but didn’t sit down.

“Congratulations, Mr. Crusher,” he said immediately. “You have the unique privilege of assisting in the three-week rebuild of the entire phaser core. A rare opportunity for one so young.”

Wesley perked up and said, “Thanks, sir!”

Picard scowled at him, annoyed that his sarcasm was lost on Wesley, and added, “We’ll see if you can still smile in three weeks.”

The smile fell off appropriately.

Picard ignored him, glowering at Riker and Data. “And you two, about this propensity for stealing starship property and striking off on your own,” he said, his voice growing in intensity and ferocity, “just don’t make a habit of it. Dismissed.”

Startled, neither Riker nor Data had the sense to get away while they could, at least not for the first few seconds. Finally Riker gestured Data and Wesley out, stepping after them onto the bridge. A sense of relief washed over him as the office door slid shut behind the three of them. Together, they turned toward the bridge itself, and stopped short.

Only Riker was able to make a coherent movement—he touched the ready room door and it slid open again. As he stared out onto the bridge, he called back, “Captain . . . you’d better come out here.”

A moment later, Picard was at his side.

They and the command crew looked out over the large expanse of the bridge—a bridge crowded with human forms. A hundred human forms, all in uniform. Sailors. Command officers from a time past. Some uniforms were blue, some green.

At the center of the rows of naval officers from an age gone by, Arkady Reykov and Timofei Vasska stood together in ghostly silence and gazed at Captain Picard.

On the lower bridge, Deanna Troi gazed at them, tears breaking from her lovely eyes. Finally, she found her comfort.

Captain Reykov raised his hand to his forehead in salute. A moment later, every one of the hundred Earth sailors also raised their hands.

Picard cleared his throat. “Attention,” he called.

His command crew snapped straight.

He brought his own hand up and saluted those for whom he and his ship had nearly destroyed themselves.

Captain Reykov’s eyes twinkled like those of a living man, and he nodded in gratitude. His hand snapped down. His men did the same.

Slowly then, from each end, the crescent of sailors began to disappear, one by one.

The Enterprise was once again a ship for the living.