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Persecute Data. Try and prove that Data— Data, was no more than a machine, that he was property. The very idea made Will sick.
“Number one.”
Data’s life was hanging in the balance, and Will loathed the hand he’d been given in it. What kind of a choice was that, to let his friend be shipped off for execution, or be the man who sealed his doom?
“Commander Riker!”
Picard’s voice was drowned out in the static that buzzed in Will’s head. Ugly emotions bubbled in his chest as he strode down the hallway. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Persecute Data.
“Will!”
Will turned and swung his fist into the nearest wall, mercifully avoiding the control panel a few inches to the left. The wall was solid beneath his fist and the pain was welcomed as it spread through his hand. He got two or three good hits in before a strong hand on his arm yanked him away.
“Will, stop.” Picard ordered. Will huffed and jerked out of his friend’s grip.
“I can’t do it,” he said. His chest heaved with anger. “I know I have to, but I… it’s Data , for crying out loud.”
“I know,” Picard said, his voice even and firm. “But Will, as difficult as this task will be, remember that it does not reflect your true emotions about Data to anyone. This will not be held against you, regardless of the outcome.”
“I’ll hold it against me,” Will snapped. An unreadable expression swept Picard’s face, and he stepped closer.
“Will, your role in this, whatever happens, is not one you chose. Do not allow yourself to carry the blame of this unjust situation.”
Will let out a huff and looked away. Rage still crackled in his chest, pulling the air into his lungs in short bursts. Picard sighed, and his hands landed on his hips.
“This situation is thoroughly less than ideal,” he acknowledged. “And I regret that I am unable to assist you through it; as it is, I suppose we shouldn’t converse until the ordeal has passed.” One of his hands came to land on Will’s shoulder, and Picard’s expression turned solemn. “Whatever happens, number one, do your best. Even if the outcome is a negative one, my opinion of you will remain unaltered.”
Will’s jaw clenched, but he gave a short nod. Picard sighed again and gestured with his head to Will’s hand.
“You ought to go to sickbay for that,” he recommended. Will glanced down at his hand. The skin hadn’t broken, but the knuckles had already taken on a red hue. Will flexed and clenched his hand, ignoring the slight tremor from residual rage, and winced at the sharp protest.
“It’s not that bad, sir,” he said all the same. Picard fixed him with a stern look.
“I know you, Will. Do not ignore your injuries out of some perceived penance. Report to sickbay. That’s an order.”
Will deflated slightly and ran a hand over his face.
“Yes, sir,” he said obediently. Picard gave a satisfied nod and patted Will on the shoulder.
“I’ll see you on the other side of this mess,” he said, and then he was gone.
Will sighed and looked down at his hand. Although he knew better than to disobey a direct order, the thought certainly was tempting, given the task that had been thrust on him. He flexed his hand experimentally and grimaced again, and resigned himself to sickbay.
As he walked down the hallways, each step echoed tauntingly. Da-ta da-ta per-se-cute-da-ta. Will clenched his fist tightly and let the pain wash through him. He wouldn’t disobey a direct order, but he would allow himself the pain he deserved, as long as he could.