Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 39

Lal indicated the hairless Soong-type at the controls. "This is the central control station of the Iconian gateway network. And it is from here that the planetary defenses are controlled as well. When my father and the others first arrived on Turing, they found this chamber still fully operational. As a security measure, they sealed this room off shortly afterward, so that it is only accessible through the gateways themselves. One of our population remains here on duty at all times, responding to requests for access."

"Is that how you opened the door?" Sito asked. "I didn't hear you say anything."

Crusher thought to explain about the transceivers, but was too intent on the gateways. Before Lal could explain, he called over to her, "Do you mind if I take a closer look?"

"Feel free," Lal said, motioning toward the hairless Soong-type, "but you should know that while we have been successful in mastering the control of the gateways, we have not mastered the underlying principles. We could not build another such system if we so desired." Then she turned back to Sito. "Lieutenant, all Soong-type androids, even those such as myself constructed on Turing, have subs.p.a.ce transceivers incorporated into our bodies. As a result, we are able to communicate nearly instantaneously across considerable distances."

"Ah." Picard nodded. "That is how you govern yourself, is it? A kind of continuously ongoing debate within the body politic?"

"An apt description, Captain," Lal agreed. "The ability to communicate at high bit rates over subs.p.a.ce is the fundamental basis of our means of governance. Our consensus is a kind of temporary group mind, you might say, made up of any number of positronic brains acting in concert."

Picard looked thoughtful. "Tell me, Lal, could you contact a Soong-type who is not already part of your collective? My crewman Commander Isaac, for example?"

Lal nodded. "Provided he is equipped with the standard subs.p.a.ce transceiver."

"He is," Crusher called, not looking up from the controls of the gateway network, having to hold his hands together at the small of his back to prevent himself from trying them out. "I can provide his transceiver code, if you like."

"You have it memorized?" Sito said, disbelieving.

"Come on, Jaxa," La Forge said with a smile, coming to stand beside Crusher, just as intrigued as he about the gateways. "How long have you known Wesley, and you're surprised he can remember a simple numerical string?"

"Mister Crusher, if you would," Picard said, his tone tinged in amus.e.m.e.nt.

Barely glancing up, Crusher reeled off a long string of numbers. He found it no more difficult to recall than he did the room and deck number of his own quarters.

"Thank you," Lal replied, then fell silent for a moment. "Captain, I have established contact with Isaac. Would you like me to relay a message to him, and hear his response?"

"Yes," Picard said, sounding like a pleased grandparent, "I would like that very much, thank you. A status report, if you please."

A moment later, Lal opened her mouth again, but this time the voice that issued forth was not her own. "Captain," said the familiar voice of Isaac, "I am afraid matters are continuing to complicate."

After Isaac had changed into the nondescript civilian clothing produced by the replicator, Lore had hurried back to the main square where Data awaited the Romulans, with Isaac following close behind. Moving as quickly as they were able throughout, blindingly fast by human standards, it had taken only a matter of moments to complete the errand.

They had found Data standing where they'd left him, with the Romulan "inspection team" approaching from the far end of the concourse.

"It's not too late to go for the quantum warhead option, brother," Lore said, sidling up to Data.

"We exercise the will of the population, Lore," Data said, keeping his attention on the Romulans. "Until the consensus changes, neither should our course of action."

Isaac came to stand on Data's opposite side. The Romulans were only a few meters away, by this point. At their vanguard was Subcommander Taris herself, and marching behind her were some dozens of individuals. On closer examination, though, only a bare handful of these were organic Romulans. The rest were shock troops, crude Romulan-style androids. Their features were blunt, with a rough-hewn look, like unfinished sculptures, and this outward appearance only served to mirror their inner qualities. Unlike the Soong-types found in the Federation, who were fully able to exercise their free will, the Romulan androids were more like robotic slaves. It was believed by Federation experts that there was a type of sentience buried deep within the shock trooper's mind, but it was given no expression, their artificial brains shackled by the Romulans' oppressive programming imperatives.

Glancing over at the two "brothers" beside him, Isaac could see that they found the state in which the shock troops existed as distasteful as he did.

"These wretches are as bad off as that d.a.m.ned wardrone," Lore said in a harsh whisper. He glared daggers at the approaching subcommander. "Organic slavers."

Data gave a slight nod, but motioned for patience. "I share your objections, brother. But this is not the time to voice them."

Any further conversation was forestalled as the Romulans drew nearer.

"Welcome to Turing, Subcommander Taris," Data said cordially, though not without a wary glance at the shock troops following behind her.

"I thought this was to be an 'inspection,'" Lore said, bitterly, "not an occupation force."

"I was given to understand that he spoke for this populace," Taris said, indicating Data, who nodded. "Then why are you speaking?"

Lore bristled, and for a moment Isaac thought he might lash out and strike the subcommander. Worse, even though Data's hand on his brother's shoulder appeared to restrain Lore, at least for the moment, Isaac could see a number of those androids in the watching crowd who seemed equally as offended, if not more, their expressions making clear that their emotion chips were installed and fully operational. These Isaac took for "Lorists," those who looked to Lore for leaders.h.i.+p.

"Do you intend to attempt violence, android?" Taris said to Lore, faintly amused.

"So long as you conduct your inspection in an orthodox fas.h.i.+on," Data said quickly, before Lore was able to respond, "you will have nothing to worry about from our people."

The subcommander gave Data a dismissive look, but instead of answering turned to the shock troops behind her. "Spread out and initiate search pattern delta."

Data glanced at Isaac and Lore, as if gauging their reactions. It occurred to Isaac that he might be better served gauging the reactions of the onlookers, many of whom seemed less than pleased by this turn of events. While the majority of the Turing populace might have agreed with Data to pursue diplomatic solutions to the present crisis, it was clear that the minority opinion for extremism was much in evidence.

A half-dozen meters from where Isaac and the others stood, the Lorist position came into direct conflict with the Romulan advance. One of the shock troopers, carrying a firearm of an unknown design, found his way blocked by a Turing android of a roughly baseline humanoid design.

"Step aside," the shock trooper said in a voice that was cold, mechanical, and affectless.

"I have no intention of moving," the android said, with an undercurrent of bitter emotion, "seeing no compelling reason to do so." He was clearly of the Lorist persuasion, and glanced at Lore, as though seeking his approval.

Isaac might have expected the shock trooper to defer to the Romulan subcommander as well, looking to her for guidance just as the Lorist looked to his leader for approval, but he had failed to account for the rigid programming with which the Romulan androids were equipped. Instead of turning to address his superior, the shock trooper paused for a moment, head c.o.c.ked slightly to one side. Isaac realized that he was consulting his heuristic algorithms, determining a course of action that satisfied his programming imperatives. In the s.p.a.ce of time it would have taken a human heart to beat twice, the shock trooper's decision tree appeared to have reached a preferred conclusion, and he put the event outcome into effect.

Without warning, the shock trooper raised his strange weapon, its barrel aimed at the Lorist, and fired.

Coruscating blue energy wreathed the Lorist for the briefest of instants, and then the Turing android dropped to the ground, convulsing.

Subcommander Taris made little attempt to conceal her amus.e.m.e.nt as she took in the confused expressions displayed on the faces of the Turing androids around her. Her smile poorly hid, she explained. "Romulan research into positronic technology might have thus far failed to recapture the heights of Noonien Soong's creations, but in the process of devising our own android variants our scientists did discover the detrimental effects of certain radiations on a positronic matrix." Her smile broadened, now completely unhidden. "It was a matter of relative ease to weaponize such emissions."

The subcommander turned to the organic Romulan officer who stood at her side, and snapped her fingers. The subordinate, head bowed, held his own weapon out to her.

"These disruptors," Taris went on, almost apologetically, "will not permanently damage your positronic brains, I'm afraid. But they will disrupt them for a suitable span, and with repeated application can keep an android rendered inoperative for as long as is deemed necessary." Her smile took on an unsettling quality. "I am told, incidentally, that the sensations generated within the positronic matrix are the closest approximations to real pain that most androids will ever experience."

"This is an outrage!" Lore began, but Data took hold of his arm.

"I believe your demonstration has engendered the desired result, Subcommander," Data said evenly.

"I hope that it has," Taris replied, eyes narrowed. She pointed overhead with the weapon's barrel. "The Haakona in orbit above our heads is equipped with a much larger device that operates on the same principle, and that can deliver sufficient amounts of radiation to incapacitate a large number of androids at one time." She paused, glancing around them, almost casually. "An entire city full of them, for example."

Data's expression remained blank, unreadable.

"If I or any of my officers fail to report in," the subcommander continued, "or if there is any aggressive move made against me or my s.h.i.+p, the Haakona is under orders to open fire on the surface."

"That is, I think you would agree, something to be avoided, Subcommander," Data said.

"Perhaps," the Romulan said, and turned away.

Isaac watched Data's face carefully, curious about what the android would do. But in the next instant, Isaac's attentions were diverted when he detected the signal ping of an incoming transmission on the subs.p.a.ce transceiver incorporated into his body, situated just below the main bulk of his positronic matrix. He replied subvocally with an answering hail, and then "heard" the voice of Lal calling in his head, followed by a quoted command from his superior, relayed in Picard's own voice.

Without employing his vocal cords or uttering any sound, Isaac formed words in his positronic brain and transmitted them via subs.p.a.ce. "Captain, I am afraid matters are continuing to complicate."

7.

This was not good, Sito Jaxa thought. This was less than good. This was, in fact, bad.

From the expression he wore, she could see that Captain Picard felt much the same way.

"An anti-positronic disruptor," he said in a low voice, eyes half-lidded. "In the hands of the Romulans."

Commander Isaac had completed his brief report on the situation in the concourse, and Picard had ordered him to report back in shortly, or as developments warranted. Then Lal had broken the subs.p.a.ce connection, and when she spoke again, it was in her own voice.

"It is not right," she said with evident horror. "We should not..." She trailed off, and it occurred to Sito that she had rarely seen an android at a loss for words. She'd never seen an android like Lal at all, for that matter, but it was somehow stranger to see an android stammering than to see one with a girlish figure and a woman's face. "It should not be allowed."

Picard stepped forward, and laid a gentle hand on the young android's shoulder. "There are a great many things that should not be allowed, Lal, but I think you'll find that a great many of them continue to exist, regardless. We must deal not with what should be, but with what is."

Crusher and La Forge were still busy a.n.a.lyzing the console at the center of the room, and were now deep in conversation with the hairless android who operated it. But Sito's attention was fixed on the scene before her, and the worried expression on the face of the young android.

Lal stared into s.p.a.ce for a moment before looking up to meet the captain's gaze. "The populace..."

"Yes, Lal?"

She regained her composure, visibly. "The populace has allowed the inspection to continue to this point because it had been a.s.sumed that the Romulans lacked the ability to inflict any significant harm on us, either individually or collectively. And if the Romulans made any such attempt, we would have the Iconian software virus and gateway network as fallback solutions. However, it is now clear that the Romulans can inflict harm on our population, not only with their shock troops in the streets, but with the armament of the s.h.i.+p in orbit, as well. And if the subcommander is to be believed, it would appear that the software virus is no longer a viable option."

"How so?" Picard asked, arching an eyebrow.

"The delivery mechanism is a physical probe, launched from the planet's surface. If the Romulans are on an alert status, they are likely to view the probe's launch as an aggressive gesture, and open fire with their s.h.i.+pboard disruptors before the virus is even delivered." She sighed, which Sito knew was more for their benefit than for hers, an indicator of her internal thought processes rather than a biological response. "The Datarian position is swiftly losing ground. Conflict is, it would seem, all but inevitable."

Sito found it difficult to imagine the debate currently going on all around them. If she had a tricorder, she could probably just detect the buzz of subs.p.a.ce communication as the androids conferred in their consensus, debating what to do next. But doubtless the speed of the communication would be going by so quickly that Sito would be unable to pick out even a fraction of what was being said, even if she could eavesdrop on them.

"Lal, there is one matter that still puzzles me deeply," Picard said. "Why was I summoned here? What is it that you...all of you..." He waved his arm, indicating the city somewhere beyond the walls of the control room. "...wish to accomplish?"

"There are many disparate agendas," Lal explained. "And a variety of short-term and long-term goals. Lore argues for the destruction of the Romulan s.h.i.+p with a quantum warhead, in the short term, teleported via the gateway network."

"But such an action is certain to invite reprisal from the Romulan-Klingon Alliance," Picard countered.

"To say nothing of the loss of life," Sito put in.

"Quite right, Lieutenant."

Lal nodded. "If the Lorist position is pursued, and the Alliance learns that we of Turing were responsible not only for the destruction of an unmanned wardrone, but also that of a fully-crewed warbird, reprisals will be inevitable. And should the Alliance discover, as they doubtless will, that many of the androids of Turing were originally constructed in the Federation, it is difficult to imagine that the reprisals will not extend to include the Federation, with war being the inevitable result." She paused, and then sadly added, "It is for this reason that Lore insists that, following the destruction of the Haakona, we should also place quantum torpedoes at key locations on Romulus, including on the floor of the Romulan Senate, in a preemptive strike."

"And rise from wide-scale murder to outright genocide?" Picard said, outraged. "No," he shook his head, "I cannot imagine that thought sits comfortably with many androids."

Sito knew he was remembering the case of the Borg, where androids with far more cause than Lore and his followers had still refused to take life unnecessarily. "What kind of android is this Lore, anyway?" she asked.

Lal was thoughtful for a moment, as if considering how many family secrets to share. "Lore," she finally began, "was an early prototype, dismantled by Noonien Soong before the work of constructing my father was initiated. It had been decided that Lore exhibited emotional instability and increasing levels of aggression, which could be attributed to design flaws that were corrected in Data and subsequent designs. As you know, Soong and his wife died some years ago, in a shuttle accident."

Picard nodded. "Having campaigned tirelessly for the rights of their android creations. It was a pity that he didn't live to see the realization of his dream of societal acceptance of the beings he himself knew to be fully sentient."

Lal nodded. "I regret not having the chance to know my grandfather. Still, shortly before the landmark decision that granted citizens.h.i.+p to artificial life-forms, my father was searching through Soong's research materials, looking for any evidence that could support the android rights position. He discovered fragmentary references to earlier positronic experiments, and these led him to the discovery of where the remains of those earlier models had been stored. Before coming to Turing, my father retrieved those disa.s.sembled components from cold storage on Omicron Theta. Once he and the others had settled here on Turing, Data began to rea.s.semble his older sibling Lore, repairing the programming faults that had impaired his functioning all those years before."

Sito could hardly imagine what that must have felt like. She'd had an older sister whom she'd never known, who'd been buried as an infant before her family ever left Bajor. What would it be like if Sito could simply "retrieve" her remains and somehow breathe new life into them? To meet for the first time a sibling lost long before she was born?

"In the years since then," Lal continued, "Lore has become a valued member of the Turing populace, and a key player in our political debate. However," she paused, thoughtfully, "it has been my observation that...perhaps...my father's repairs to Lore's programming were not as successful as originally believed. His behavior has become somewhat...erratic in recent years. And his ability to adopt intellectual stances that other Soong-types find difficult to entertain-such as the causal ending of organic life, either in theory or in practice-suggests that there may yet be some errors in Lore's reasoning or ethical programming left unaddressed."

Sito could see Picard's growing concern. "Are you suggesting that Lore is insane?"

Lal tilted her head to one side, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Insane," she repeated, for all the world like a child at a spelling bee. "Of persons: mad, mentally deranged, not of sound mind. Of actions: idiotic, senseless, irrational."

"Yes, yes," Picard said impatiently. "That was what I had in mind."

"Not all of the relevant definitions of the term apply," Lal said, after a moment's consideration, "but in as much as the word can connote being 'not of sound mind,' then I would have to answer in the affirmative. Yes, you could say that my uncle was insane."

"Oh, delightful," Picard said in a voice almost too quiet to hear. Then, at normal volume, he said, "If that's the case, Lal, then why are the Lorists so quick to follow his example?"

"As distasteful as many of Lore's conclusions are, his arguments are often very persuasive. But you must understand that his is not the only minority view. Another is that of the Isolationists, who argue that we should use the Iconian gateways to transplant our entire population to some remote corner of the galaxy, thousands of light-years distant from any inhabited system, and then destroy the gateway network with timed explosives after we have gone. Still another is the Retrogressionists, a small minority view that calls for Turing to appeal to the Federation for a.s.sistance, perhaps even to pet.i.tion for Federation members.h.i.+p. However, should the Retrogressionist plan be followed, the chances for war between the Federation and the Alliance increase to one in three, and in most simulated models the onset of hostilities would eventuate sooner even than in the Lorist-dominated simulations."

Picard shook his head. "Madness. Absolutely rational, but still complete madness." He began to pace, as if overburdened by the desire to do something, the desire to move. "And your father? What does Data argue in this colloquy?"

"He still urges for a diplomatic solution," Lal answered.

Picard spun on his heel. "And what, may I ask, is that diplomatic solution?"

The corners of Lal's mouth lifted in a smile, and Sito fancied she could see the android's shoulders bounce ever so slightly in the ghost of a shrug. "That is why you are here, Captain, to help us devise such a solution."

The captain did not respond, but his expression made plain that he was far from overjoyed at the answer.

"After all, Captain," Lal went on, "my father did say that you were needed to stop a war. This war."

Ro Laren paced the bridge of the Enterprise, moving restlessly from one side to the other, her hands clenched at her sides.

"Anything, Ensign?" she called to the officer at the ops station. It was a needless question, since Ro knew full well that the woman would relay any change in status or incoming transmission as soon as it arrived at her station, but Ro couldn't help but ask.

"No, sir," the ensign replied in a wary voice, as if worried that Ro might hit her.

Ro stopped and took stock. She was snarling, with her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and glaring at the ensign. Oh, no, she couldn't imagine how the young officer might imagine that Ro could hit her.

"I'll be in the captain's ready room," Ro said, turning and striding toward the door.

"Aye," the ensign replied, with evident relief.

As soon as the doors hissed shut behind her, and she was alone in the ready room, Ro wheeled around and struck out with her fist, pounding the bulkhead. It didn't damage the wall in any measurable way, and wasn't doing her knuckles any favors, but Ro couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of the tension bleeding away. Or were her knuckles actually bleeding?