Chapter Text
Technically, it starts with a formal letter from the Starfleet Board of Robotics and Artificial Intelligence Research. But Data strongly suspects that the “request” - as the board calls it – is motivated by purely political factors.
The Enterprise has been quiet and tense since Captain Picard's return. His short-lived stint as a Borg leader crippled or outright destroyed a large number of Starfleet vessels; Data admits to slight surprise that he was allowed to return so soon. And while the repercussions within Starfleet are bad enough, Data regularly scans enough data-streams to know that individual Federation worlds are reacting even worse. Despite occasional conflicts with other powers, it's rare for Starfleet to face a serious threat.
The Borg represent an unprecedented type of opponent – made all the more threatening, all the more alien, by their strange mix of the organic and mechanical, their terrifying ability to overwhelm and assimilate the minds and bodies of the conquered. Recent media feeds remain dominated with speculation about Borg autonomy, Borg origins, internal politics, biology, weaknesses, threat potential...
We expect your full cooperation in this matter, the message from the Board of Robotics and Artificial Intelligence Research informs him. As though it is nothing. As though the litany of polite phrases is anything except an order disguised in polite niceties. Data has excellent literacy programs, and he can read for subtext.
This board formally requests your participation... reassignment will be permitted for a minimum period of six-months to enable your participation... hope that your unique constructions will enable new fields of research...
When troubled by the actions of one group of humans, Data often finds it helpful to request insight and understanding from other, more trustworthy associates. So he goes to find Geordi. No one is around, so he does not bother asking the computer's help aloud. He just sends a wordless location-request to Internal Sensors, who obligingly highlights the pertinent areas in Data's mental map of the ship. He thanks the computer – who does not respond – and finds his friend reconnecting a sparking panel down in the ship's bowels.
“Hey, Data,” Geordi says, plucking a tool from his kit. Geordi glances at him. Frowns. “Everything alright?”
“Starfleet has 'requested' my research participation in an ongoing project,” Data says. He has often found that merely explaining his thoughts to humans can help organize and clarify his ideas in new ways. He mentally slots away this curiosity for later reflection. Even now, just speaking to Geordi helpfully lowers the threat-readings blaring warnings along his system. “They have specifically informed me that they would be interested in the acquisition of more Soong-type androids.”
Geordi frowns, but spends a moment adjusting the relays on the panel. “How do you feel about that?” he asks at last.
“I consider it potentially unethical.”
“Yeah, I don't blame you. At least they aren't suggesting to have you disassembled this time... Are you going to try and fight it? Take this to higher courts?”
“I do not consider it likely that higher courts would decide differently.” Pursing his lips, Geordi doesn't argue. Data elaborates, “I have decided to decommission myself.”
Geordi pauses. “Sorry, what do you mean?”
“I cannot in good conscience provide Starfleet with more androids. While they have technically assigned me to this vessel with the implied rights of a sentient being, they have also refused to pass official judgment regarding the rights of androids as a whole, and I am disturbed by the response to Lal's trial. I have considered the idea of decommissioning myself since Lal's destruction. If I ever reproduce again, I expect Starfleet would take the child. But it is now clear to me that they may intend to utilize my designs with or without my willing permission – which I consider unbearable in practice.” A pause. “I believe it is reasonable to assume that they may eventually choose to treat me as a non-person as it suits them. It is a dangerous situation, which cannot be allowed to continue.”
Geordi slowly sets aside his tools. Turns to face Data. “So you're going to leave Starfleet?”
“Yes. However, it occurred to me that I will face similar problems in any region of space; there are many systems who would be interested in my construction. Therefore, upon resignation of my post I intend to go to one of the moons of Arranias III, where there exist volcanoes with particularly toxic lava that should be capable of burning through my tripolymer composite and bioplast sheeting.”
Geordi's mouth falls open. “Data, you can't – are you talking about killing yourself?”
“Precisely. It is the only way to ensure that my body is not used for study, which would allow for the creation of misuse of more androids. However, this is a serious decision, so I would appreciate your input on the matter.”
Geordi presses a fist to his mouth for a moment. The malfunctioning panel, it appears, has been forgotten.
“...Okay,” he says at last. “We're going to find Deanna.”
Deanna insists they speak privately in her office. She asks if Data wants Geordi to leave, but he does not. He sought Geordi for the purpose of soliciting his opinion, after all.
Deanna insists on pouring herself and Geordi tea before asking Data to further explain his thoughts.
“I do not see what else there is to explain,” he says. “I believe I have expressed myself plainly.”
“No one comes to the conclusion to kill themselves that easily,” Deanna says.
“I would not consider it an 'easy' decision. But it is the best option I have. Do you disagree?”
Geordi stands up and turns from them, raising his head toward the ceiling. Curious, Data peaks through the room's security camera, then the internal ship's sensors for the floor above them. But he can find nothing interesting.
“I think what you're experiencing is grief,” Deanna says gently. “Even now, what happened to Lal... We know it must be hard to lose a daughter, Data. But that doesn't mean you can just shut down.”
“I am not capable of grief,” Data reminds her.
Geordi interjects, “You told me it would be unbearable to create more androids to serve Starfleet, Data. What's that if not an emotional reaction?”
“You are anthropomorphizing, Geordi.”
“I really don't think I am. Data, we've met silicon-based lifeforms. We've met incorporeal lifeforms, people without any bodies. The fact that you might not have the same – synaptic responses, or chemicals – it doesn't mean you don't have feelings.”
“I quite agree,” says Deanna when Data looks to her for support. “I have always thought that your responses went beyond simple machinery, Data. But this is more of a philosophical question. I'm more concerned with stopping you from these dangerous impulses – whether or not you think they stem from emotions.”
“To categorize my resolution as ethically unsound, and something you should prevent – that is also a question of philosophy, is it not?”
Deanna hesitates. “Well, yes, but – Data, you have ethical subroutines. You are programmed to prioritize your own life. Surely you know suicide is wrong?”
“I do,” says Data. “I am also programmed for self-sacrifice – the ability to accept my own termination in the event that it may benefit others. In destroying myself, I prevent the creation of other androids who would be abused by Starfleet experimentation.”
“Do you feel abused?” Deanna asks.
“I do not feel,” he reminds her again.
Geordi turns once more, covering his face.
“According to regulation,” Deanna says, “I should remove you from duty due to psychiatric concerns.”
“Do I seem 'ill,' Doctor?” asks Data. He's genuinely curious.
Clasping her hands, Deanna mulls it over. “I am not going to remove you from the roster, if you object,” she says finally. “I agree that you are not a danger to anyone else, and you are currently capable of performing your duties. But I have to make a report to the Captain.”
“I understand,” Data acknowledges. “I already plan to speak with him regarding my intent to leave.”
Deanna bites her lip.
“I think I might have a chat with him first,” says Geordi.
Data knows that Troi and Geordi have spoken with the captain when he requests Data's presence his office at the end of Alpha shift. Picard walks Data there in silence, his jaw clenched, flashing glances at him with unusual frequency. His swift stride is 14% faster than usual, betraying agitation.
The individual security unit for the Captain's quarters – which is on a separate network isolated from the rest of the ship's security system– pings Data intrusively as they enter. Which is typical. If the captain's unit were capable of feeling, Data would call it paranoid. As usual it harasses him for security clearance, even with the captain personally escorting him inside; its 'threat level' awareness steadily climbs as he declines to provide it with the expected Captain-or-above permission codes.
Data does have access to those codes, of course. But it would be against regulation to provide them, so as always, he just reminds the unit that he has full permission to be here.
The unit shoves camera feeds into his awareness. I'm watching you, it warns.
“Mr. Data,” says Picard. “Please, sit.”
Data sits. Pointedly, the security unit sends a request that unlocks the bolt mechanism on the chair, which promptly sinks 1.37 feet toward the ground.
Picard pauses to frown at it. “I really do need to have that fixed,” he mutters. Shakes his head.“ - Mr. Data. I've received visits today from Counselor Troi and Mr. LaForge. I expect you already know what we discussed, but I'd like to hear things in your own words.”
A reasonable request. “I expect that they have relayed the matter accurately, Captain. Starfleet wants my assistance creating more Soong-type androids. While I can refuse to assist them, I anticipate they will persist given the relevance of this project to potentially understanding more about the Borg. Therefore, I have decided my best alternate is to decommission myself.”
“By which you mean, kill,” Picard interrupts.
“If you prefer, Sir. I would like to formally submit notice of my intent to leave Starfleet - “
“I refuse it,” says Picard immediately.
“You do not have that ability, Captain, without due reason. If necessary I can appeal your decision to - “
“Data.” Picard rounds the desk, jaw clenched. “Do you respect me?”
An odd question. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“We have served together several years, Sir. I have sufficient evidence to know that you make reasonable and ethically-sound judgments.”
“Then,” Picard says, “I am asking you to respect that, as a man with forty-one years of service experience, I truly believe that you will change your mind given enough time. But once you make that final decision – if you really 'terminate' yourself – you won't be able to go back. So is there any harm in waiting?”
Data considers. “Starfleet could demand production of more Soong-type androids,” he points out. “As I believe they will. And if I procrastinate, they may attempt to force matters. In fact, I calculate a 89% likelihood that this will occur within the next two years.
“They could. And I'll fight that decision, if they do. Just as I intend to demand recognition of your sentience and an acknowledgment of your right to start a family without military oversight.” Data tilts his head. He is not sure why the captain references Lal – even if she has been a major part of Data's decision-making analysis. “This situation is not without precedent, Data. When Dr. Maddox wanted to disassemble you for study, Captain Louvois ruled that you had the ability to choose whether or not to accept Starfleet's orders.”
“Yes, Sir,” says Data. “But while it might be a positive precedent, the fact that I am faced with such orders again implies that Starfleet plans to continue pursuing the creation of more Soong-type androids. And it is statistically likely that I will one day find myself in front of a less sympathetic judge.”
“But if you make the choice to destroy yourself – that is irreversible, Data. You have a life here. Don't you think it's worth taking the time to consider this?”
“I have already considered my options at great length, Sir.”
Picard grits his teeth. Looks away and huffs through his noise. Signs of frustration, Data recognizes. “Data. As your crewmates – as your friends – we have a moral imperative to stop you from this course of action. Can you understand that?”
The Enterprise library bank helpfully shoves a definition at Data. Moral imperative: A strongly-felt principal. An ideal which obligates a person to commit an action.
Yes, Library – Data is aware of what the term means. He simply disagrees.
“If you recognize my right to make my own choices,” says Data, “Then it follows, Sir, that I can make this one.”
Picard exhales. “Then it is our responsibility to help you choose differently, Mr. Data. For now, just promise me that you will wait before taking any action. At least a little longer.”
Data considers. He does trust Picard, and he does consider the captain a 'friend.' Library reminds him that friends often trade favors, even nonsensical ones, which Data knows. “Very well, Sir. I suppose I can use more time to prepare.”
Guinan disapproves of Data's choice, and says as much as he 'drinks' with Worf and Commander Riker.
“Really, Data, you need to have a little more spunk,” she chides. Riker frowns into his glass. “What can Starfleet really do to you that would be so terrible?”
“They could adjust my programming to control me,” says Data. “Dismantle me. Deactivate me to study my components. And, of course, the creation of more androids would only cause further suffering to countless intelligent individuals.”
“...Well, that's a point,” she concedes.
“Hey now,” Riker protests. “Data, they wouldn't do those things. That's why your idea is so crazy.”
“Hmm.” Guinan shakes her head, moving away. Over her shoulder she calls, “that sounds more like a reason to find a new place to live, Data – not to roll over and die.”
“Well,” says Riker. “I don't know about that. Data, I'm sure this can be straightened out. And what you're proposing - “
“It would be an act of cowardice,” Worf declares.
Riker chokes. “Now hold on,” he sputters.
Data tilts his head. “But Lieutenant, is it not true that Klingons respect the suicidal rite of hegh'bat when gravely wounded or disabled.”
“That is different.”
Even Riker looks askance at him.
“I do not see how.”
“Klingon suicide is meant to prevent us from burdening society when we are no longer fit to fight,” Worf declares. “We do not kill ourselves simply to avoid risk or uncertainty.”
“On the contrary,” offers Data, “I would argue that avoiding a lifetime of infirmity is motivated by nothing else. The pain of being outcast, physically vulnerable, and limited in your options is something Klingons are unwilling to face. I find this quite relatable.”
Frowning, Riker sets aside his cup. “Data, you don't have to be afraid of Starfleet. You're a respected officer, not a slave. And the captain would never let anyone interfere with you.”
“If the captain will not 'let' them, do you agree that the admiralty board will make an effort to use me, Commander?”
Riker hesitates.
“If they try then you would have a duty to fight,” is Worf's opinion. “Not to surrender through suicide. There are always options.”
Data considers. This, at least, is a valid point; Data could do more to challenge his position in Starfleet. He could try to force a more clear verdict on the point of his sentience. But Starfleet has always been careful to mark him as an exception among androids; no one wants to deal with the legal precedent of an android granted full autonomy and citizenship rights.
His status as a Starfleet officer has always been tied up in technicalities; he is currently listed as the offspring of Dr. Soongh, acknowledged by Soongh and created using templates of his body, his mind. Really, Data is only recognized as intelligent because he is formed in the image of humanity – legally more of an extended vessel of consciousness than an actual individual.
And humanity, he knows, can sometimes be cruel to those they consider lesser than themselves.
Data returns to his quarters at the end of the day to overview the opinions presented to him.
Of course, Data has always longed to be human. That is, to be as human as possible. So while he's studied the philosophies of many worlds, his basic behavioral patterns usually reflect human standards of conduct. And in this modern age, humanity generally eschews self-harm. It follows that Data should do the same. Even Worf and Deanna agree that he shouldn't destroy himself.
But somehow, despite the host of opinions against him, Data is reluctant to remove the possibility. He continues to run benefit-costs analyses in one corner of his processes while he scans the latest messages from Starfleet. No updates.
Data does not plan to act immediately, anyway; he can consider the idea just a little longer.
His thoughts are interrupted by an alert from the ship's communications systems.
Such systems are not, as a rule, very intelligent; the communications system really only needs to protect itself against outside attack, and in all other aspects follows very specific orders. While Data has frequent reasons to transmit off-ship communications, he would not consider himself 'friends' with this system, whose AI generally shows less awareness than a tribble.
But today, it flashes insistent alerts at him. ATTN:Captain-conference-call-subject:Cmd.Data.
Data rejects the video transmission it tries to shove into his feed, reminding the system that he shouldn't have access to the captain's private communications. Perhaps he needs to have Geordi update the security systems.
Security-level:open-record, Communications insists. Conference-call-secondary-subject:Cmd.Data.Offspring-Unit.
Oh. The captain is speaking to someone about – Lal?
...Data's social abilities subroutines remind him that it even if it's technically permissible to access records of an open conference call (and that he can legitimately consider a 1-second delayed video a 'record'), doing so would still be considered socially invasive and unacceptable by human standards.
Data considers this through a general morality analysis. But he keeps receiving an error message: SUBJECT-OFFSPRING.
Humans, Data reasons, defend many ethically-dubious decisions when children are involved. Moral dilemma solved, he opens the video.
Communications sends a pleased acknowledgment.
“...demand a proper statement regarding Commander Data's position,” Picard is saying to a panel of three admirals facing him through a screen.
He's seated at his desk, back straight and rigid against his chair. Wearing his dress uniform, his face rests in grim resolve.
“We can't do that Jean-Luc,” Admiral Morrison chides. “Especially not now. And you know why.”
“No, I can't say I do,” comes the sharp rebuke. “Commander Data is a Starfleet Officer. He has served admirably for years – and by that token, Starfleet implicitly acknowledges his intelligence and individuality. Refusing to legalize his standing, as a free citizen of this Federation, is nothing less than outright bigotry.”
Admiral Lopez sighs at Picard. “Do you understand the implications of what you're asking?”
“Do you understand the implications of considering my officer a non-person?” Picard counters. “It's outrageous - it's slavery, and I will not be part of it.”
On the right side of the screen, quietly, Haftel speaks up. “We might have considered looking into this matter in different circumstances, Captain. I saw how Data reacted to Lal's failure, and I do sympathize. But right now, you know it's not possible. Consider – if we recognized Data as an independent and free lifeform, we might also be called upon to recognize the Borg. And you, of all people, should know better.”
A frozen moment. Picard's jaw clenches.
“...How dare you,” he bites at last, low. “How dare you stand there, telling me - “
He cuts himself off. The panel shifts, all of them displaying micro-expressions Data would categorize as uncomfortable.
A deep breath.
“You cannot refuse to recognize a category of beings as sentient simply because it is politically difficult,” says Picard icily. “Yes, perhaps it will make it harder to justify hostility toward the Borg. But the Borg are thinking, rational creatures, Admirals. Perhaps they perceive the world in ways difficult for humanity to understand – but they do think, and feel. I can attest to that.”
Morrison clears her throat. “Captain Picard, we don't mean to imply - “
“Imply what?” Picard barks. “That one of my officers should be stripped of his rights and freedoms because we're afraid of a distant enemy? History is rife with examples of that sort of discrimination - “
“This is not a matter for debate,” Lopez interrupts. “At this time, it is simply not politically expedient to make waves about the 'rights' of android life – especially when Commander Data is the only example we have.”
“But he doesn't need to be,” Picard says. “Months ago, Data tried to create a child. And he'll never try again if he thinks his children will be put in jeopardy. One of our own people, afraid his offspring will be sectioned away and used for experimentation by an organization he's served faithfully for years – how can you rationalize that?”
Morrison says, “Perhaps it's better that Commander Data doesn't have children. For everyone involved.”
Data pulls out of the video. He arranges a recording of the rest of the conference and stores it for later viewing.
It is – good for Captain Picard to speak in Data's defense. That is the only reaction Data can offer right now. His usual analytical units seem unresponsive
Perhaps he should requisition Geordi's assistance to run a diagnostic while he checks the Communication System's firewalls.
Geordi gets very quiet when Data explains the context behind his request.
“Data,” he says, in the hushed way Data associates with solemnity, gravitas. “I'm so sorry.”
“You have no reason to apologize,” says Data automatically.
“I'm sorry on behalf of – of every human who would act like this,” Geordi says. “You don't deserve that kind of treatment. And I'm not surprised you don't know how to respond to it.”
Oh. “You think my programs are not malfunctioning?” Data muses. That would be a relief, though it poses new questions.
“I don't know how to respond to it either,” says Geordi. “If they're refusing to acknowledge you even have rights... Data, I still don't think you should 'decommission yourself. But I understand if you feel you have to leave Starfleet for good this time.” Geordi hesitates, lips and throat subvocalizing in a way that indicates a desire to say more. But he does not.
Pausing for a socially-acceptable amount of time to convey deep thought, Data considers the option Geordi's presented. Leave Starfleet, without destroying himself? A year previous this option would have seemed obvious, but... “That path has its own risks,” he reminds the engineer. “Only months ago, I was held captive by a 'collector,' and recovered only incidentally. Alone, I would be more vulnerable to such attacks. And I do anticipate there would be attacks,” especially since Data could theoretically live for hundreds, even thousands of years.
Statistically, it's not a matter of if he will be captured and held as some sort of slave-pet-curiosity. Just a matter of when, and for how long. Starfleet can, at least, help him hold that eventuality at bay – even if they try to exploit him in a different fashion.
But then, he supposes, this is not a new danger.
Geordi bites his lip. “You shouldn't feel obligated to serve,” he says. “This – all of this is wrong, Data. This isn't what Starfleet is supposed to be.”
“I find that very few institutions are truly equal to the ideals they claim to uphold,” Data informs his friend.
“...Yeah. I'd say you're right about that.”
Afterward, Data cycles through his memory-logs and tries to reach a conclusion.
Data joined Starfleet because they are the ones who found him.
It sounds very simple, when it's phrased like that. As though Starfleet is all he's ever known. But that's not exactly what happened.
When Data woke, opening unblinking eyes onto the USS Tripoli's engineering lab, he had so many questions for the people around him that they had to laughingly ask him to make a list, because they couldn't keep up. He did make a list – it had precisely 2,341 preliminary questions. The ship's team of engineers, and several curious sociologists, linguists, and anthropologists, visited intermittently during his weeks aboard and tried to answer these inquiries. By the time Data departed almost every question was resolved – which was good, because by that point he'd generated thousands of new ones.
During that time, also, he had the unenviable task of sorting through his overworked neural net, which was rapidly evolving, rapidly creating confusing new connections in ways modern engineers still don't understand. The probability of cascade failure was likely at times, to the point Data considered shutting himself down and leaving himself a 'blank slate' to undo the damage. In effect, it would have been suicide - but some part of Data would have remained.
The engineers on the Tripoli encouraged him to keep trying. Eventually, his neural net became manageable. He 'lived.'
That's why he trusts Starfleet. He allowed Starfleet scientists to study him, to educate him, and they gave him choices. But maybe that's only because Data always made decisions that pleased them. Maybe his ideas of control and independence were illusions all along.
Since he first woke, Data has dedicated himself to seeking answers. And every answer yields new questions, new realms of exploration. Starfleet, exploring beyond the bounds of known space, seemed like the obvious way to marvel at the galaxy around him. In Starfleet he doesn't just absorb knowledge – he studies, experiments, discovers. And there's a certain pleasure, Data has found, in being the one to explain things to others.
Now... he doesn't know what to do.
The obvious answer is to delete himself. That solves all Data's problems, really, and leaves no room for error. Except the nagging thought that there will be no more answers, no more discovery. Because there will be nothing. And Data finds himself... unsatisfied that the two-million, one-hundred thirty-six thousand, eight-hundred fifty-nine questions on his current list will remain unanswered.
So he finds himself thinking about his friends.
Riker thinks he's overreacting. Deanna thinks he is grieving (and also, implicitly, overreacting). Picard empathizes but can do nothing. Worf says that he has a 'duty to fight' anyone who tries to control him, and Geordi -
It's hard to think about 'Geordi' and 'deactivation' in the same sentence. Death is wasteful in many ways, but it does seem wasteful to decommission himself while Geordi yet lives. Human lives are so fleeting – maybe, Data thinks, there is some rationale in taking risks, like Geordi said.
For just a bit longer.