Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Data slid out from underneath of the control module, fans whirring loudly as they attempted to clear the debris from his internal systems. There had been no recent malfunctions nor attacks, yet there was always something for Data to work on. He would not say he minded, it was a marked improvement from the previous crew, who often seemed to forget he was also an officer onboard, and would routinely dismiss him without assigning him work.

As he began collecting his tools, an Ensign approached him and informed him that he was to meet with the Chief Engineer as soon as he was able. Data had quickly learned that on this ship, that meant immediately. Though it was peculiar that the ensign did not specify what exactly this meeting was for. Data surmised that it was likely about the specifications on a new import of equipment the ship had recently received. Data himself had noticed a few oddities in the order after he had run a cursory check on inventory, and so was eager to discuss it with his superior.

He walked at a brisk but carefully modulated pace, ensuring that he did disturb his fellow Engineering officers. He had been informed on a previous ship that many of his mannerisms were unnerving to the average crewman, and so he took care to ensure that he did not appear too inhuman. As he approached the Chief Engineer, he deactivated his fans, despite several warnings that indicated the less-than-desirable state of his internal processes. It would simply have to wait.

The Chief Engineer began speaking to Data before he even finished his approach, gesturing about and not once looking at Data’s form. This was not an uncommon occurrence, in fact Data could not recall a single time when one of his fellow crewmembers had actually made eye contact with him during conversation. As he listened, Data noted the numerous unusual tools laid out on the console next to his superior.

They appeared to be the unknown items found within the shipment, however any hopes Data had of discussing their presence with the engineer were quickly dashed as the man continued to talk. Data made a valiant attempt at listening to the words coming out of his superior’s mouth, but the endless stream of system alerts were proving to be rather distracting. He had not had the opportunity to run a full diagnostic on his systems, nor had he been able to properly shut down since arriving on this starship approximately three months ago. He was designed to initiate shutdown every five lightcycles, which approximated to three hundred hours. The fact that he had not done so was. Less than ideal.

His thoughts were interrupted by rough hands on his arms, and as he refocused his attention he noted the hands dragging up and down his abdomen and legs, seemingly searching for something. If Data were human, he may have described the sensation he felt in that moment as dread.

He was not given the opportunity to linger on this thought, however, as there was a loud crack and a piece of his bioplast shifted uncomfortably as the prying hands dug around his back. An alert flashed across his vision indicating critical damage next to his switch, but as he began to twist he collapsed like a cut marionette, all systems abruptly powering off.

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Data did not know how long he had been offline.

His internal chronometer and systems monitors were not responsive, and those that were seemed to be missing significant amounts of information. He was still in Engineering, but he did not recognize any of the crewmen on shift. The damage to his visual processors made scanning their faces for recognition near-impossible. He attempted to alert a passing officer of his presence, but his speech unit was unresponsive. He attempted to run a self-diagnostic, and was met with numerous concerning error messages. His diagnostic systems appeared to be quite damaged, as the sort of messages it displayed indicated heavy damage to both internal and external systems, the likes of which would have required an attack that would have decimated the ship.

Yet here it was, pristine and glowing, the warp core thrumming gently. The soft blue glow offered a sense of comfort for Data, an unwavering presence as his power fluctuated and his systems began to fail.

He found himself unable to move, his entire body unresponsive to any command delivered by his positronic net. He was propped up on a console in the corner of Engineering, his uniform shredded and, he noted with what was almost distress, his wires and internal components exposed and scattered across the surface. He felt his coolant fluid leaking out and mixing with the biofluid that was dripping from his severed arteries.

He was briefly grateful that he had not been aware when his disassembly occurred, as it would have been. Most unpleasant.

An unidentifiable officer approached him, holding what appeared to be part of his memory bank, the edges of the chip jagged as if it had been snapped. It tossed it down next to him before unhurriedly tugging on a pair of gloves and striding up to him. Without warning, it sliced through his already shredded uniform shirt and began cutting through the sections of bioplast on his chest.

Data’s eyes sluggishly followed its movements downward, the hazy sight of this unknown officer standing with their grasping arms plunged deep in his delicate core only further confusing his systems.

A quiet sound escaped his speech unit, startling the officer. It jerked away, further jostling his damaged components. He met its gaze as it stood there, looking not unlike a spooked deer. That is, if the deer were a humanoid, and its hands were dripping biofluid onto the floor. Perhaps in this situation it was more accurate to describe himself as the deer, Data mused, gutted and skinned for parts.

The hunter was speaking into its comm badge now, but Data’s auditory processors were too heavily damaged for him to understand. Its piercing stare cut through him, eyes hard and narrowed. It turned away, picking up an unidentified tool before pivoting back towards him and grasping his chin, forcing it upwards and exposing his neck. Another grating whine escaped him, this one several decibels louder than the last.

It began tearing into him in earnest. Pulling out wires and cables seemingly at whim.

He wasn’t programmed to feel pain.

He wasn’t designed for that.

He was supposed to be untouchable, indestructible. He wasn’t supposed to feel pain.

Why did it hurt so much ?

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“Please, stop.”

Its arms stilled as it whipped its head up to look at him, offering a moment of respite.

“You are damaging my systems. Please, stop.”

It did not stop.

Data did not know how long it lasted, did not know how long his pleas had fallen upon deaf ears. It never seemed to grow tired of his suffering. His artificial synapses were firing so quickly he could feel his positronic brain heat up.

It felt like he was burning up, mind on fire, boiling coolant and biofluid seeping through the tattered remains of his uniform and spilling out of every split seam and torn relay.

He did not know if he would survive this. He wasn’t built to endure this sort of treatment. He was beginning to think that maybe he would die here, with no hope of an afterlife to welcome him when his systems finally gave out.

He didn’t want to die.

He had only been online for a few years. Even humans lived longer than that, right ?

“Please,” he began, this time with no effect. “Please stop. I am afraid. Won’t you stop, please ?”

He didn’t want to die.

It was getting cold. He felt something wet slip down his face. He didn’t know he was capable of tears.

“I am afraid.” His mechanisms were sputtering out, sparking at the edges and unable to receive any signal. His eyes began to slip shut.

He didn’t want to die.