fic:: can't you see, this is mercy [ST: TNG]
Two things Shim keeps telling me this week:
-I'm on holiday, I'm allowed to not do things;
-All writing is writing. Silly Star Trek ficlets are as much writing as the Great American Novel.
In that spirit, I wrote this.
fic:: can't you see, this is mercy
by Raven
2500w, Star Trek: The Next Generation, gen. Data and Geordi, also Picard and a host of reluctant Vulcans.
It takes Geordi a while to realise Data is evading his questions.
The trouble starts when a team of Vulcan scientists come on board at Tethys III and refuse to go into main engineering. When Geordi tries to ask them why they're hanging around in the corridor rather than coming inside, Chief Engineer T'Meni says, a little disapprovingly, that it is one of the Rule of Silences and thus taboo. Geordi had a Vulcan roommate at the Academy and knows the deal with pon farr; he takes that to the Captain, who seems a little perturbed at first ("What, all of them?" - and it's true there are seven Vulcan scientists in the team, plus T'Meni's eight-year-old daughter, and maybe, on reflection, it's not the most sensible conclusion Geordi has ever come to) but he promises he'll have a quiet word.
And he does; at least, T'Meni and Captain Picard work out some compromise where her team can work in one of Dr. Crusher's unused labs two levels down from engineering, and it's kind of inconvenient but it works. And then after that they're so busy he scarcely thinks about it, and sends Ensign Nakahari back and forth carrying messages while he and Data try and make sense of the schedule of improvements the Vulcans are proposing to make to the warp core. It's something to do with harmonics, Geordi understands; something to do with timing. Data counts off and Geordi takes notes.
And later, that's the second strangeness: Data counts down from five on his fingers, five, four, three, two, one, one, one, zero.
"Data?" Geordi says.
Data doesn't say anything.
*
Then, it's the minor computer processes, internal energy transmission and ambient illumination. Geordi has everything inspected and diagnosed and finally, even when he can't find anything wrong, replaced, but still the computer slurs its words and the lights gutter like flames. Ensign Nakahari reports, after one of her runs down to speak to T'Meni and her team, that it's just this deck - everywhere else, the ship's artificial daylight seems to be functioning within normal parameters, and the interfaces aren't sluggish. "Swell," Geordi says, and when her face falls, gives himself a mental slap and says, "Thank you, Ensign."
She smiles and runs back down to the Vulcans, waving a padd; Geordi goes back to work, but nothing's going right and his head aches and there are beginning to be strange silences between signals on the relays that connect engineering to the rest of the ship. "Computer," Geordi snaps, finally running out of patience, "what the hell is going on?"
"Unknown input," the computer's voice says primly. At least it doesn't sound drunk. "Please rephrase."
Geordi sighs and rolls his eyes behind his VISOR. "Data," he says, half-kidding, holding up his hands in entreaty, "maybe you can tell me."
Data takes a moment to answer, and when he does he's not quite looking at Geordi. "It is fortunate," he says after a moment, "that the problem is confined. It is… limited."
It takes a while for Geordi to realise that's an evasion of his question, and longer to follow Data's gaze to his own workstation, to Lore's emotion chip held for safekeeping, under glass.
Data's fingers are tapping against the workstation again, five, four, three, two, one, one.
*
"Commander La Forge to the bridge" - and when it's that tone of voice. Geordi has to go. He leaves Data in charge and sets out, and when he gets there it seems brighter, suddenly, as though the elements of visual light passing through his VISOR have increased exponentially. He shakes his head to clear it of the impression and follows the captain into his ready room.
"Commander," Picard says, sharply, then, "Geordi. What is going on down there?"
Geordi shakes his head. "Captain, I'm doing my best," he says, sincerely. "My team and I are trying our hardest to find the source of the problems."
"I'm sure you are, Commander," Picard says, and that sincerity matches Geordi's own, so he feels at least one knot of tension in his chest begin to ease. "But it would be unfortunate, would it not, if we commissioned the assistance of a Federation-renowned team of engineers and couldn't make their suggested improvements because of" - Picard waves a hand at the lights; as if to oblige him, they flicker for a second - "random malfunctions?"
"I understand, sir," Geordi says, and Picard nods and puts a rare hand on his shoulder.
"I know you do. Carry on, Commander."
Geordi smiles a little and turns. The door is sweeping open in front of him when Picard calls him back. "Geordi."
"Yes, sir?"
Picard looks, if that's possible, hesitant. "I've been meaning to ask you, after our recent experiences with Lore, and the Borg - how is Commander Data?"
Geordi pauses, then says: "Fine."
*
On the way back down to engineering he notices more lights flickering, as though the malfunctions really are spreading from deck to deck. He picks up his pace and nearly runs into T'Meni coming round a corner, holding a tricorder. He smiles at her - she's clearly following the line of a relay along the wall - and she quirks an eyebrow in return.
They're about fifty metres down a long corridor from engineering when they hear the scream. Geordi's running before he can even think about it, his hand going for a phaser on his left hip that isn't there; T'Meni overtakes him around the next corner and skids to a halt just outside engineering. The abruptness of it would be comical if Geordi wasn't feeling sick with apprehension right now.
"Amanda," she says, getting to her knees, "tell me and Commander La Forge what has happened."
The little girl looks at her mom, and then at Geordi, and he can make out the battle between her fear and her training on her little face. Above them, the lights flicker. "I went inside," she says, after a minute. "I went inside. I saw…"
She trails off, and makes a precise gesture with her left hand. T'Meni says something sharp in Vulcan, and even to Geordi's untrained ear, there's a wealth of emotion beneath that word. "You must never," she begins, and then apparently changes her mind: she looks up at Geordi and says, "Commander, I can take this from here. Thank you for your assistance."
They walk off down the corridor without looking back, T'Meni holding tight to her daughter's hand. Geordi shrugs and with a deep breath, goes into engineering. As he does, something seems to happen above - there's an almost subsonic hum and some of the lights come back on, and Geordi nearly trips over Ensign Nakahari, who seems to be throwing up in a corner. "Tell me something, Ensign," he says, as he helps her up. "Are you part Vulcan?"
"Betazoid, actually," she says, and while she totters off towards the bathroom Geordi looks around at his domain and it seems in order, the familiar hum of the warp drive a comforting resonance.
"Geordi," Data says, stepping forwards, "the little girl…"
And that's a sentence fragment, notes the part of Geordi's mind that always notices details like that, and against a workstation, Data's fingers are tapping, three, two, one, one.
"She's fine, Data," Geordi says, and realises as he says it that he doesn't know if that's true.
*
And that might be the sum of things - mysterious and ominous Vulcans, malfunctioning systems, angry commanding officers, none of which are exactly welcome but not entirely unprecedented in Geordi's experience - until he wakes up in the middle of the night from a dream about the first time he saw an ionising thunderstorm and finds himself running to engineering in his night clothes before his conscious brain has quite registered he's awake.
Barclay looks up from the skeleton shift and says, "Commander La Forge" - and the damn lights are out again but it's fine, everything's fine, and he's running again, back down and up three decks and along a while, still barely paying attention to the fact of his bare feet and missing combadge. At least, he thinks when he reaches Ten Forward, Barclay would probably have said so if he'd forgotten to put on pants.
The bar stopped serving hours ago and here it's dimly-lit on purpose, the silence heavy with the ship's artificial night. Geordi slows to a halt and remembers that on other ships, deck ten fore is the observation deck. The stars streak comfortingly past in warp. Geordi leans against a wall and lets his breathing come back to its resting rate. And it's only then, when he stands back up again and steps towards the curved windows, that he realises he's not alone.
"Commander," T'Meni says, turning to look at him from the rail beneath the glass, and he makes a decision and goes to join her. "Are you also having difficulties sleeping?"
Geordi nods. "I was having a dream," he says, and he isn't usually this forthcoming with people he hardly knows, but hell, it's dark in here and she can't see his face, and he doesn't usually run around the ship out of uniform in the middle of the night, either. "About back when I was a kid. I'd just gotten my VISOR, I was kind of getting the hang of it, and then there was a thunderstorm. And I don't know if you know much about how the thing works, but…"
But, he thinks, it works by showing you what's not there. The thunderstorm had ionised every particle in the atmosphere, alive with glitter in his vision, so the landscape, his mother's hand moving before his eyes, were outlined perfectly in shadow, present in their absence. At that moment, he came to an understanding of technology and selfhood: that he now occupied a body that was metal and blood, electricity and skin; that bodies, too, were systems.
From the quirk of her eyebrow, T'Meni understands. Of course, he thinks stupidly, she's an engineer. And that thought gives him a strange courage - because T'Meni may be obscure to him, but they share their profession and so they must be, in some ways, built on the same workings, with the same coefficients and grit. "T'Meni," he says, quickly, "if you've already had this conversation with Captain Picard, I apologise, and please feel free to tell me to shut up and mind my own business. But please - if you can tell me, tell me what it is that you're afraid of, in engineering. What's happening here?"
T'Meni glances at him, and for a moment Geordi is sure she's performing the same mental calculus as he was a second ago, about what the two of them hold in common. After another moment, she sighs, an unusual sound to hear from a Vulcan, and says a word. It's harsh, guttural - perhaps a High Vulcan dialect - and it's not a word his very minimal knowledge of the language encompasses. She accompanies it with the same gesture her daughter used.
"What does that," Geordi begins, and she waves him away.
"Please, Commander. It is something of which we do not often speak, and I have already spoken" - but she hands him a padd as she's talking. Geordi's Academy roommate Sthonn used to com home to Vulcan from their dorm room, and Geordi remembers at least how spoken Vulcan and the written form usually correlate. He types in the word and silently reviews what the ship's dictionary databases tell him.
When he looks up, he says, "Ghost?" - and T'Meni shudders.
"No. It is both more than that, and less. More a lack, than a presence. I must" - she gestures with one hand, vaguely. "I must return. Goodnight, Commander. I hope sleep comes for you."
She's gone before Geordi really has a chance to react. And then he's alone under the curve of the observation window, watching the stars streak into the distance.
*
He might have fallen asleep just where he is, for a while. His head might have dropped onto his shoulder. And then he straightens up with a start, because he's not alone, and you're never alone on a starship, not really.
"I know you don't sleep," Geordi says, walking along the line of shadows to the one that's a familiar shape. "But you do shut down, sometimes. Not tonight?"
Data shakes his head, and says nothing.
"I guess you heard all of that, then," Geordi says, reflective. "Ghost, she said. Ghost in the machine. I didn't figure Vulcan engineers for superstitious. Though we all are. Even my mom used to say that, engineers believe in God and creation. Present company excepted, of course."
Geordi's smiling at that thought, but Data doesn't respond. Geordi looks up, suddenly. "Data, after what happened with you and Lore, you've been kind of - well, anyway, are you all right?"
It seems to Geordi that Data shakes his head very slightly, but the moment passes and Geordi isn't sure if he imagined that. Instead Data looks at him and says, "I have no emotions."
"Well," Geordi says, uncomfortably, "yeah."
"What I have," Data says, and his fingers are tapping again, five, four, three, two, one. Five Soong-type androids that were built, Geordi remembers. One, one, zero. Sentence fragment. "What I have, is absence."
The low lights have begun to dim erratically. When Data gets up to leave, he moves entirely silently, and the door slips open at his approach but no light spills in from the corridor. Geordi watches Data go, his steps arithmetically steady, the ship's systems flickering into nothingness beneath his feet.
end.
raven is also at Dreamwidth: there is or are
comment(s). Comment there or here.
-I'm on holiday, I'm allowed to not do things;
-All writing is writing. Silly Star Trek ficlets are as much writing as the Great American Novel.
In that spirit, I wrote this.
fic:: can't you see, this is mercy
by Raven
2500w, Star Trek: The Next Generation, gen. Data and Geordi, also Picard and a host of reluctant Vulcans.
It takes Geordi a while to realise Data is evading his questions.
The trouble starts when a team of Vulcan scientists come on board at Tethys III and refuse to go into main engineering. When Geordi tries to ask them why they're hanging around in the corridor rather than coming inside, Chief Engineer T'Meni says, a little disapprovingly, that it is one of the Rule of Silences and thus taboo. Geordi had a Vulcan roommate at the Academy and knows the deal with pon farr; he takes that to the Captain, who seems a little perturbed at first ("What, all of them?" - and it's true there are seven Vulcan scientists in the team, plus T'Meni's eight-year-old daughter, and maybe, on reflection, it's not the most sensible conclusion Geordi has ever come to) but he promises he'll have a quiet word.
And he does; at least, T'Meni and Captain Picard work out some compromise where her team can work in one of Dr. Crusher's unused labs two levels down from engineering, and it's kind of inconvenient but it works. And then after that they're so busy he scarcely thinks about it, and sends Ensign Nakahari back and forth carrying messages while he and Data try and make sense of the schedule of improvements the Vulcans are proposing to make to the warp core. It's something to do with harmonics, Geordi understands; something to do with timing. Data counts off and Geordi takes notes.
And later, that's the second strangeness: Data counts down from five on his fingers, five, four, three, two, one, one, one, zero.
"Data?" Geordi says.
Data doesn't say anything.
*
Then, it's the minor computer processes, internal energy transmission and ambient illumination. Geordi has everything inspected and diagnosed and finally, even when he can't find anything wrong, replaced, but still the computer slurs its words and the lights gutter like flames. Ensign Nakahari reports, after one of her runs down to speak to T'Meni and her team, that it's just this deck - everywhere else, the ship's artificial daylight seems to be functioning within normal parameters, and the interfaces aren't sluggish. "Swell," Geordi says, and when her face falls, gives himself a mental slap and says, "Thank you, Ensign."
She smiles and runs back down to the Vulcans, waving a padd; Geordi goes back to work, but nothing's going right and his head aches and there are beginning to be strange silences between signals on the relays that connect engineering to the rest of the ship. "Computer," Geordi snaps, finally running out of patience, "what the hell is going on?"
"Unknown input," the computer's voice says primly. At least it doesn't sound drunk. "Please rephrase."
Geordi sighs and rolls his eyes behind his VISOR. "Data," he says, half-kidding, holding up his hands in entreaty, "maybe you can tell me."
Data takes a moment to answer, and when he does he's not quite looking at Geordi. "It is fortunate," he says after a moment, "that the problem is confined. It is… limited."
It takes a while for Geordi to realise that's an evasion of his question, and longer to follow Data's gaze to his own workstation, to Lore's emotion chip held for safekeeping, under glass.
Data's fingers are tapping against the workstation again, five, four, three, two, one, one.
*
"Commander La Forge to the bridge" - and when it's that tone of voice. Geordi has to go. He leaves Data in charge and sets out, and when he gets there it seems brighter, suddenly, as though the elements of visual light passing through his VISOR have increased exponentially. He shakes his head to clear it of the impression and follows the captain into his ready room.
"Commander," Picard says, sharply, then, "Geordi. What is going on down there?"
Geordi shakes his head. "Captain, I'm doing my best," he says, sincerely. "My team and I are trying our hardest to find the source of the problems."
"I'm sure you are, Commander," Picard says, and that sincerity matches Geordi's own, so he feels at least one knot of tension in his chest begin to ease. "But it would be unfortunate, would it not, if we commissioned the assistance of a Federation-renowned team of engineers and couldn't make their suggested improvements because of" - Picard waves a hand at the lights; as if to oblige him, they flicker for a second - "random malfunctions?"
"I understand, sir," Geordi says, and Picard nods and puts a rare hand on his shoulder.
"I know you do. Carry on, Commander."
Geordi smiles a little and turns. The door is sweeping open in front of him when Picard calls him back. "Geordi."
"Yes, sir?"
Picard looks, if that's possible, hesitant. "I've been meaning to ask you, after our recent experiences with Lore, and the Borg - how is Commander Data?"
Geordi pauses, then says: "Fine."
*
On the way back down to engineering he notices more lights flickering, as though the malfunctions really are spreading from deck to deck. He picks up his pace and nearly runs into T'Meni coming round a corner, holding a tricorder. He smiles at her - she's clearly following the line of a relay along the wall - and she quirks an eyebrow in return.
They're about fifty metres down a long corridor from engineering when they hear the scream. Geordi's running before he can even think about it, his hand going for a phaser on his left hip that isn't there; T'Meni overtakes him around the next corner and skids to a halt just outside engineering. The abruptness of it would be comical if Geordi wasn't feeling sick with apprehension right now.
"Amanda," she says, getting to her knees, "tell me and Commander La Forge what has happened."
The little girl looks at her mom, and then at Geordi, and he can make out the battle between her fear and her training on her little face. Above them, the lights flicker. "I went inside," she says, after a minute. "I went inside. I saw…"
She trails off, and makes a precise gesture with her left hand. T'Meni says something sharp in Vulcan, and even to Geordi's untrained ear, there's a wealth of emotion beneath that word. "You must never," she begins, and then apparently changes her mind: she looks up at Geordi and says, "Commander, I can take this from here. Thank you for your assistance."
They walk off down the corridor without looking back, T'Meni holding tight to her daughter's hand. Geordi shrugs and with a deep breath, goes into engineering. As he does, something seems to happen above - there's an almost subsonic hum and some of the lights come back on, and Geordi nearly trips over Ensign Nakahari, who seems to be throwing up in a corner. "Tell me something, Ensign," he says, as he helps her up. "Are you part Vulcan?"
"Betazoid, actually," she says, and while she totters off towards the bathroom Geordi looks around at his domain and it seems in order, the familiar hum of the warp drive a comforting resonance.
"Geordi," Data says, stepping forwards, "the little girl…"
And that's a sentence fragment, notes the part of Geordi's mind that always notices details like that, and against a workstation, Data's fingers are tapping, three, two, one, one.
"She's fine, Data," Geordi says, and realises as he says it that he doesn't know if that's true.
*
And that might be the sum of things - mysterious and ominous Vulcans, malfunctioning systems, angry commanding officers, none of which are exactly welcome but not entirely unprecedented in Geordi's experience - until he wakes up in the middle of the night from a dream about the first time he saw an ionising thunderstorm and finds himself running to engineering in his night clothes before his conscious brain has quite registered he's awake.
Barclay looks up from the skeleton shift and says, "Commander La Forge" - and the damn lights are out again but it's fine, everything's fine, and he's running again, back down and up three decks and along a while, still barely paying attention to the fact of his bare feet and missing combadge. At least, he thinks when he reaches Ten Forward, Barclay would probably have said so if he'd forgotten to put on pants.
The bar stopped serving hours ago and here it's dimly-lit on purpose, the silence heavy with the ship's artificial night. Geordi slows to a halt and remembers that on other ships, deck ten fore is the observation deck. The stars streak comfortingly past in warp. Geordi leans against a wall and lets his breathing come back to its resting rate. And it's only then, when he stands back up again and steps towards the curved windows, that he realises he's not alone.
"Commander," T'Meni says, turning to look at him from the rail beneath the glass, and he makes a decision and goes to join her. "Are you also having difficulties sleeping?"
Geordi nods. "I was having a dream," he says, and he isn't usually this forthcoming with people he hardly knows, but hell, it's dark in here and she can't see his face, and he doesn't usually run around the ship out of uniform in the middle of the night, either. "About back when I was a kid. I'd just gotten my VISOR, I was kind of getting the hang of it, and then there was a thunderstorm. And I don't know if you know much about how the thing works, but…"
But, he thinks, it works by showing you what's not there. The thunderstorm had ionised every particle in the atmosphere, alive with glitter in his vision, so the landscape, his mother's hand moving before his eyes, were outlined perfectly in shadow, present in their absence. At that moment, he came to an understanding of technology and selfhood: that he now occupied a body that was metal and blood, electricity and skin; that bodies, too, were systems.
From the quirk of her eyebrow, T'Meni understands. Of course, he thinks stupidly, she's an engineer. And that thought gives him a strange courage - because T'Meni may be obscure to him, but they share their profession and so they must be, in some ways, built on the same workings, with the same coefficients and grit. "T'Meni," he says, quickly, "if you've already had this conversation with Captain Picard, I apologise, and please feel free to tell me to shut up and mind my own business. But please - if you can tell me, tell me what it is that you're afraid of, in engineering. What's happening here?"
T'Meni glances at him, and for a moment Geordi is sure she's performing the same mental calculus as he was a second ago, about what the two of them hold in common. After another moment, she sighs, an unusual sound to hear from a Vulcan, and says a word. It's harsh, guttural - perhaps a High Vulcan dialect - and it's not a word his very minimal knowledge of the language encompasses. She accompanies it with the same gesture her daughter used.
"What does that," Geordi begins, and she waves him away.
"Please, Commander. It is something of which we do not often speak, and I have already spoken" - but she hands him a padd as she's talking. Geordi's Academy roommate Sthonn used to com home to Vulcan from their dorm room, and Geordi remembers at least how spoken Vulcan and the written form usually correlate. He types in the word and silently reviews what the ship's dictionary databases tell him.
When he looks up, he says, "Ghost?" - and T'Meni shudders.
"No. It is both more than that, and less. More a lack, than a presence. I must" - she gestures with one hand, vaguely. "I must return. Goodnight, Commander. I hope sleep comes for you."
She's gone before Geordi really has a chance to react. And then he's alone under the curve of the observation window, watching the stars streak into the distance.
*
He might have fallen asleep just where he is, for a while. His head might have dropped onto his shoulder. And then he straightens up with a start, because he's not alone, and you're never alone on a starship, not really.
"I know you don't sleep," Geordi says, walking along the line of shadows to the one that's a familiar shape. "But you do shut down, sometimes. Not tonight?"
Data shakes his head, and says nothing.
"I guess you heard all of that, then," Geordi says, reflective. "Ghost, she said. Ghost in the machine. I didn't figure Vulcan engineers for superstitious. Though we all are. Even my mom used to say that, engineers believe in God and creation. Present company excepted, of course."
Geordi's smiling at that thought, but Data doesn't respond. Geordi looks up, suddenly. "Data, after what happened with you and Lore, you've been kind of - well, anyway, are you all right?"
It seems to Geordi that Data shakes his head very slightly, but the moment passes and Geordi isn't sure if he imagined that. Instead Data looks at him and says, "I have no emotions."
"Well," Geordi says, uncomfortably, "yeah."
"What I have," Data says, and his fingers are tapping again, five, four, three, two, one. Five Soong-type androids that were built, Geordi remembers. One, one, zero. Sentence fragment. "What I have, is absence."
The low lights have begun to dim erratically. When Data gets up to leave, he moves entirely silently, and the door slips open at his approach but no light spills in from the corridor. Geordi watches Data go, his steps arithmetically steady, the ship's systems flickering into nothingness beneath his feet.
end.
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comment(s). Comment there or here.