Part 22 (1/2)
”I should have said it earlier. I ... want to thank you,” she said.
”Thank me?”
”For making me arrest Dare. You were right. It was my duty, not yours, although I know you'd have done it if I hadn't.”
”You are-” He stopped the automatic response midstream. ”No. You are not welcome to the pain I caused you. Tasha, I hope I never again have to cause a friend such pain, but I am glad you understand I had no choice.”
”I understand,” she replied, and left him.
Data found the falsified entries easily: inserting a birth record required rearranging the file on all births that day; falsifying school records meant s.h.i.+fting names to insert Nalavia's. Once Data retrieved the original files, which showed no trace of Nalavia's existence, Starfleet Command quickly gave the go-ahead for interruption of all Trevan broadcasts with the information. From that point on, events on Treva became a mere ”cleanup operation.”
At first people didn't want to believe they had elected an alien to their highest office, but as they were thinking for themselves now, it didn't take long for them to accept that the reason for Nalavia's increasing cruelty could be that she was not one of them. She surrendered to Starfleet when Treva's people stormed the Presidential palace. In sickbay, her ident.i.ty as an Orion was quickly verified.
It appeared, once the storm had settled, that the Trevans were ready to appoint Rikan their new President-even make him king-but he insisted that they follow the const.i.tution and set up elections. He left the Enterprise glowing with health and happiness, and Data was sure he would indeed be elected President-and serve Treva well as it completed its application for Federation members.h.i.+p.
Data and Tasha beamed down with Rikan to his castle, where he accepted the congratulations of his people before the waiting media. He did not speak long, but ended by saying, ”I could not have held out against Nalavia alone. Treva owes its freedom not only to Starfleet, but to the man known as the Silver Paladin. He will be remembered and honored always on our planet.”
Data heard Tasha's soft gasp, saw her stiffen and fight back tears. He also saw Adin's people watching them from one side of the courtyard, silently accusing. When the interview was over, Rikan tried to lead Data and Tasha over to them, but the seven turned their backs as one, and walked away.
”Let them go,” said Tasha. ”I don't expect them to forgive me. I can't forgive myself.”
”I have always thought Adrian incapable of the charges laid against him.” Rikan said.
”I'm sure of it,” Tasha replied. ”But there is no way to prove it, no way at all.”
”Not even with the help of your very clever and talented friends?” asked Rikan, looking at Data.
Data started to protest, but thought better of it. It was better to say nothing, as there was nothing he could do for Darryl Adin.
The strange thing was, despite all logic that said Adin had been proved guilty beyond any doubt, reasonable or unreasonable, he also had what he could only describe as a ... feeling ... that the man was innocent.
On that uncomfortable note, they bade farewell to Rikan, and beamed back to the Enterprise.
Data went back to the bridge, but all during his s.h.i.+ft, with nothing to do but routine checks, his primary consciousness kept focusing on the two prisoners in the Enterprise brig. They were now headed to Starbase 68, where both Nalavia and Darryl Adin would be handed over into Starfleet custody.
Nalavia would probably be confined in comfort if not luxury for a time, until the Orions arranged some kind of exchange-probably for Federation citizens taken on a slaving expedition. Of course he had no way of knowing what punishment might await the woman among her own people, since she had failed at her mission. He hoped it was severe.
Data was startled at the thought. Vindictiveness? So soon after jealousy? What was happening to him? In his wish to be human, he had never considered such emotions. Unlike anger, which he had often observed to give people strength to change their lives, these feelings had only negative value. He decided to delete them from his programming.
But ... he could not.
They were entwined with too many other bits of memory; he could not delete his jealousy over Tasha's feelings for Darryl Adin without also removing parts of his respect and friends.h.i.+p for her, as well as numerous concrete facts about their mission to Treva. It was the same with his antipathy toward Nalavia.
He had no choice but to do what humans did with negative feelings: contain them, refuse to dwell on them, and most important, refuse to act on them.
Or ... refuse to let them prevent him from acting.
Suddenly Data realized that he had been repressing one area of his programming ever since Rikan had suggested he might do something to prove Darryl Adin innocent. He didn't know if it could be done ... but once he had acknowledged even the remote possibility, he knew he had to try.
Data didn't know why he thought such evidence existed. He had been over those records; there were no time/entry discrepancies. But then ... an expert with such, a computer would know how to avoid those. He would.
He was an android; he was not capable of intuition, or what Captain Picard called a ”hunch.” Yet despite all evidence to the contrary he was certain Adin could not have committed the crimes he was convicted of.
He accessed information about intuition and hunches. They were explained as the organic mind determining a pattern from various disconnected facts, some of which might not be consciously remembered.
But Data remembered everything; he could not be reacting to forgotten information.
Still ... it was something like his antic.i.p.ation, opinion, and gestalt programs. Consciously, he let his search function examine the data that formed his opinion that Adin was innocent. The man's actions. His activities as the Silver Paladin. His Starfleet record before the Starbound incident-On his last mission before the training cruise of the Starbound, the defeat of the Orions at Conquiido had been led by a.s.sistant Security Chief Darryl Adin of the U.S.S. Seeker. In recognition, he had been promoted to Commander, and sent to the Academy to update his training prior to posting aboard one of the larger stars.h.i.+ps.
When the Starbound was a.s.signed to transport dilithium, how could the Orions miss the opportunity to steal such a treasure, and at the same time destroy the man who had dealt that hard and recent blow to their plans of conquest? The prosecution charged that the Orions had not missed it-that they had worked on Darryl Adin's greed to lure him into conspiring with them, and then let him ”take the fall.”
But what if they had not found such a weakness in his character? What if the tenuous evidence linking Adin to the Orions were forged? If the man were innocent, he must be set free.
Even if when he left the Enterprise he took Tasha with him.
The moment he was off duty, Data went straight to his quarters and instructed the s.h.i.+p's computer to link directly with the main computer at Starbase 36.
”That is not necessary for the files you are seeking,” the female voice told him. ”All data from those files is in the s.h.i.+p's computer.”
”I must have access to the memory in which that data was originally stored.”
”You are creating an unnecessary overload on s.h.i.+p's communications,” the computer objected.
”Just do it,” said Data. ”That is an order.”
As he expected, the memory of the main computer at Starbase 36 was a Standard Unlimited Virtual. What he had done with Nalavia's computer was impossible, for there was no physical storage to retain discarded information.
Yet ... Data's own brain was a highly-advanced adaptation of the same concept, and he remembered every experience. Even given the instruction, ”It never happened,” he did not forget; he simply inserted a new command not to act on that information. He placed a similar safeguard on information requiring a security clearance, so that he would neither divulge it upon a routine request for information nor speak or act in such a way as to reveal that the secured information existed.
Data had used computers with unlimited virtual memory all his life, but never before questioned what happened to information deleted from them. Was it truly erased, or did it simply become inaccessible? There was supposed to be no way to retrieve it.
No human way.
But suppose he could access the memory of the Starbase 36 computer directly, using his own mind to manage the data? Intriguing! Whether he accomplished his goal or not, it would be a unique experience- - and a potentially dangerous one. He was almost certain he could make the connection. But ... would he be able to disconnect? Was his personal consciousness strong enough, differentiated enough from that of a sophisticated computer, to allow him to maintain his ident.i.ty?
There was only one way to find out. Cautiously, Data tapped into the link the s.h.i.+p's computer had provided, trying to remain conscious of his own body seated at his terminal while his mind reached out- The starbase computer had no personality, no self-awareness to object to his intrusion. He found he could impose his own order on the chaotic ma.s.s of information: just think about the stardates he wanted, and he had access to the comlink data, hotel registrations, everything. It all matched the evidence provided at Darryl Adin's court-martial.
But had it been changed, tampered with in any way?
As Data formulated the question, he ... felt something. In its information processing mechanism, the computer's brain had similarities to his own-and he sensed familiar patterns a.s.sociated with that particular set of data. Frightening patterns.
Frightening?
The starbase computer could not be frightened. It was Data's fear-a memory from his past.
Priam IV!
It was the most terrifying thing he had had to do in order to become a candidate for graduation from Starfleet Academy. All cadets had to pa.s.s the test, but there was no way to fool an android into believing the situation was real ... except to alter his perceptions.
There had been no projections in a holodeck for Data, no Starfleet test personnel acting roles in his psychodrama. Rather, he had permitted, in fact aided, Starfleet's most skilled computer experts to block his awareness of where he truly was, and place the Priam IV scenario directly into his personal consciousness. His most vivid memories of the test did not stem from the scenario itself, although it had certainly been frustrating enough while he thought himself living it. No, the horrifying parts for Data had come before and after the test, when he felt his mental control taken from him, albeit with his permission and cooperation, and later, unexpectedly, when his consciousness was restored.