Work Text:
Title: Mourning Star
Author: Poodle
Rating: PG
Summary: Set in the aftermath of "Offspring," Data quietly ponders the death of his "daughter."
Mourning Star
By Poodle~
Data's eyes slowly traced the illuminated bar which usually cast a solemn glow upon the faces of the patrons of Ten Forward, but now was empty. This was one of those rare occasions when the lounge was vacant. He often ghosted the corridors and lingered in empty rec rooms, chasing memories from his mind, during those desolate hours Humans still regarded as the "dead of night" even aboard a starship. He was accustomed to the solitude. Androids did not sleep. But they did know how to dream...
Alone. Why did this haunt him now, after all these years? His friends slept. It was late into the Beta shift, that disquieting lull before the onslaught of off-duty, when the next shift still slept and the first was falling into slumber. It was the natural progression of events that they should sleep and he should wander the corridors. No other being aboard the starship remained cognizant twenty-four hours a day (as Humans would say). In that, he was alone. In most things he was alone. An anomaly. One of a kind.
The subtle lighting from the tables cast muted shadows along the walls; the corners of the room were laced in memories. Memories he fought to purge. Why? Ten Forward never bothered him in the past. What possible unrest had compelled him to this place tonight, where Humans came to gather and linger over cocktails, their eyes whispering a mystical language understood only by themselves? A language he could never hope to learn - the silent music of the soul.
Here, they mingled in quiet communion with their own kind, occasional laughter rising in the air, muffled whispers adorned by bewildering innuendoes. He learned many things lingering in the shadows, venturing along the edges of a reality he could never share. Ten Forward was an excellent arena in which to view Humankind. So why should there suddenly exist a menacing air to the vestiges of memory this place evoked?
He turned from the bar and gazed out of the portal. The stars spiraled through the transparency, their light spilling into the room. He stood as if transfixed, watching, but not seeing, their timeless glow.
"Data?"
He blinked and turned to find Guinan lounging casually against the bar, her dark silhouette cast in subtle light. "How is it I did not perceive your presence?" He asked.
A hint of mysticism touched the corner of her smile. "I have my ways."
"Yours is a most unique species."
Her soft brown eyes held a knowing light. "You're thinking of her, aren't you?"
"Her?"
"Data," she chastened, shaking her head and catching his eyes with hers. "I'm talking about your daughter. You're thinking about her, aren't you? Why else would you wander in here this time of night."
"I am an android, and require no sleep. It is not unreasonable to expect I might wander--"
"Don't give me that android speech. I miss her too, you know. This place," she indicated the room with a tilt of her head, "contains her memory. I see her every time I glance down this bar. I catch myself wondering who she's going to kiss next, and will her father ever get around to explaining the facts of life?"
"I contain her memories," he responded softly, the light catching his golden eyes and giving them a solemn glow. "My child is not gone."
"But *only* her memories."
"Alas, this is so." He gazed back toward the stars beckoning from the portal. "Her essence is gone, her..." He floundered for words.
"Life," Guinan's voice held the soothing resonance of a messiah; the gentle rustle of her robe filled the hush as she moved to his side. "She has died."
For a moment, he was silent. "I created life."
"Yes, you created life. You were a father. There is no purer love than that of a parent for a child."
His lips parted in astonishment. "I cannot feel...love," he stammered. "It is, for me, an unobtainable goal. Did that make me an unfit parent?" His face showed distress.
"Never," she shook her head. "You could never be an unfit parent, even if you tried."
"Why should I wish to attempt such a thing?"
"It's just an old saying." She smiled softly.
"Ah." He nodded, knowingly. "Still, they wished to take her from me. Why? Did they believe I was unqualified to guide her into maturity because I lacked the very emotions she possessed?"
"They wanted to take her, because they are foolish Humans who wish to control what they do not understand. You were a good father, Data. Never allow them to cast doubt upon that truth. She loved you very much."
His eyes fell away from her face. "She said it did not matter that I could not return her love, that she would feel it for both of us. Did I fail her?"
Guinan's head slowly tilted in introspection, the stars chasing shadows from her face. Beneath the saucered rim of an imposing hat, the smooth lines of a timeless face held a hint of sadness. "My beloved," she breathed, and nothing more.
"I do not understand." The android's head cocked in a mechanical mirror image of Guinan's.
"Why did you name her that - a word that meant beloved?"
His thoughts turned inward, struggling through a void of uncertainty, for the essence of thought that flirted along the edges of his consciousness, refusing to coalesce. It filtered away. "I do not know."
"Really?" Her gaze slowly traced the room, coming to rest upon the illuminated mural behind the bar, then back to search Data's face, with all-too-knowing eyes. "The answer lies within you. You've only to discover it for yourself."
His brow creased in consternation; the depths of his eyes swirled with dismay. "Guinan, I do not understand what it is you wish for me to know."
Her lips pressed thin, but her face retained the essence of a smile, a timeworn art perfected long ago. "Must I give you all the answers, my android friend?"
"I am sorry." He shrugged. "I can only say, the name was...appropriate."
"Appropriate." The woman sighed. "Yes, it was appropriate to call her beloved, but isn't it also proper to say she was loved?"
His face brightened. "Did you love her, Guinan? She would be most pleased to know this. It is...sad to think she lived and died, feeling love that was never reciprocated."
"Data, Data, Data, what shall I do with you?"
"You wish to do something with me?"
"What I'm trying to say is," she paused, then shook her head. "It's not my purpose to give you the answers, but rather to lead you to the truth that lies within."
"Your purpose?" He questioned, ever mystified by this shadowy enigma drifting through their lives in wraithlike robes.
"Never mind. Of course I loved her. We all loved her. What I'm trying to say is, we are not the only ones who loved her."
"Who else?" The words fell into a void of silence.
Guinan's sigh cut the lull. She leaned against the bar. In the wisp of light, her smooth face with its dark skin pulled tautly over full cheeks, assumed a prophetic visage. "Define love," she said simply.
Data opened his mouth to comply, then his lips snapped shut and he shook his head. "The definition is quite lengthy. I have found people grow weary of protracted delineations, even though such discourses are often necessary to convey proper meaning. The captain says, I should synopsize my information, though to do so often diminishes--"
"You're rambling." She smiled.
He blinked. "I am?"
"Let's suffice it to say, somewhere in that deluge of information lies an entry describing love as concern for the well being of another person. I know you felt concern for her. You brought her to me, hoping I could guide her in her quest toward sentience. You, yourself, led her by the hand every step of the way. Any Human father could not have surpassed your devotion. If that's not love, I don't know what is."
He thought for a moment, then the hint of a smile passed over his lips, only to wither and fade. "That is true, but I do not believe this is the love my child desired." His expression deepened. "Perhaps Admiral Haftel was correct in his assessment that I would retard her development."
The woman snorted. "Poppycock."
"Excuse me?"
"It is a word I picked up..." She paused, then smiled mysteriously, "a long time ago."
"You are ancient, are you not?"
She grumbled noncommittally.
"With age often comes wisdom. The captain places irrefutable confidence in your advice. Tell me, if placed in my position, what would you have done?"
"If someone attempted to take my child?"
He nodded.
"I have many children," she mused. "But I would have fought to the death to retain any one of them. Even the one or two who might be considered, shall we say, troublesome."
His eyes widened in astonishment. "You are suggesting I should have killed the admiral?"
"Nothing so drastic as that, but I assure you. I would never relinquish my child, regardless of any threats made against me, court-martial included."
"I have never...disobeyed a direct order. I do not know if I possess the capacity to do so."
"You're sentient. You contain the ability too make whatever choices are necessary."
"It is not that insubordination is truly beyond my capabilities, but rather such an act is unthinkable to me."
"So is the forceful separation of a father and his child." Her face took on a solemn air. "If the battle had reached the courts, you can guarantee, regardless of the outcome, your friends would have prevented such a separation."
His mouth opened in surprise. "It might have cost them their careers, possibly even their freedom."
"Some truths are greater than both."
Her words took root in the fertile soil of his mind. He left the bar and crossed the room to stand in the glow of the distant stars, a solitary silhouette basked in silver, his back ramrod straight, the metallic-sheened face set in lines of introspection. "There is another truth that is self-evident," he whispered. "It is because I am not Human that such contentions exist. Were I Human, there would be no question as to whose rights should prevail."
"Your words show keen insight." Guinan's silken voice wafted to his ears. "You see, your competence was never truly in question, only--"
"My status." His jaw tensed in a manner unfamiliar to him. "There remains much confusion surrounding this issue. Funny, *I* have no difficulty assessing the situation, yet it continually baffles Humans. Perhaps the incongruity between us is due to my superior ability to access and interpret information." He sighed. "Will the debate never end?"
"Possibly - and possibly not. You are one of a kind."
"Once again." The words fell from his lips. His head dropped. In silence, he studied the delicate construction of his hands, the intricate lines weaving across the palms, finger prints, his own personal identity, the delineation of individuality not unlike the Humans he was created to emulate. One of a kind. His palm began to grow warm, as if his hand clasped another's, and he blinked in astonishment. He could feel the pressure of a smaller, fine-boned hand, resting within his palm.
*Humans like to hold hands. It is a symbolic gesture of affection.*
His eyes felt a bewildering burn. He squeezed his hand into a fist then let it fall limply to his side. He raised his eyes, looking into the infinity of space.
"Data?"
The voice was at his side, though he did not hear her cross the room. "Curious."
"You're thinking of her, aren't you? That's why you wandered in here in the wee hours of the morning." Her hand sought his shoulder. "You're mourning."
His head cocked. "To mourn, to grieve or lament for the dead." He blinked, looking aside. "I only wish it were so."
"Trust me, it is. I said there is no purer love than that of a parent for a child. Rest assured, there is also no deeper pain than what is felt when one loses a child. I know."
He turned to face her. "You, as well?"
"Yes." The word was the only affirmation. She did not elaborate, but the fathomless brown eyes moistened. "I share your pain."
"But I *feel* no pain!" The words wrenched from his lips.
"What *do* you feel?" She asked softly, increasing the subtle pressure on his shoulder.
He gazed back toward the stars. "Emptiness." There was a quiet resignation to the confession. "I thought my uniqueness had ended."
"You created her to share a link with another of your own kind, to fill that ineffable void that lies within the soul. Why do you think Humans search for love, Data?"
"I do not know; it is another of their qualities that elude me."
"For precisely those very reasons. To fill that same void you chose procreation to fill. Why is it you deny emotions while striving to obtain goals that could only be motivate *by* emotions?"
His brow furrowed in confusion. "I do not know." He searched the ebony contours of her rounded face, his eyes pleading. "Perhaps you know."
She sighed in regret. "It is not my place to answer." Her hand fell away from his shoulder. "I am sorry."
He looked around the empty bar, pastel lights chasing memories into the silent corners of the room where her presence still lingered. "If only," he breathed, turning back to the window.
Silence wrapped around them. He could hear the subtle swish of Guinan's cloak as she moved. When she spoke again, her voice held a distant quality.
"I shouldn't tell you this if you haven't discovered it for yourself, but, for once, I'll breach my code of ethics. Your neural pathways were duplicated precisely in the cross-link transfer process, correct?"
"Yes," he whispered, his eyes transfixed on the stars.
"Yet she experienced emotion! There was no variation, she was not a separate creation formed independently, as you were, but rather an extension of yourself."
"There existed unexplainable aberrations at the quantum level." His words were barely audible. "She experienced fear...love. I cannot."
"Listen to yourself. What you're saying isn't possible."
"Explain."
"I never met your brother, Lore, but he, too, experienced the full range of Human emotions. Doctor Soong achieved total consciousness with both his creations. Neither you nor Lore failed in that respect."
"Still, I am lacking many fundamental qualities my brother possessed." He did not turn, but instead stared almost glaringly at the stars.
"I disagree. I might have believed that, if you had successfully duplicated another Soong android without using your own consciousness. Since you didn't, and she *did* possess emotions, it confirms a long standing theory of mine."
The android's head cocked, but he did not meet her gaze. Suddenly he had no interest in theories or speculation. He watched the velvet backdrop of space, but saw only a wide, questioning pair of eyes staring back. "She asked why the sky was back. I lacked the opportunity to show her a blue one. I...regret that fact. She never experienced true grass beneath her feet," he mused.
"Data, you say with age comes wisdom, so I will give you my theory, for what it's worth." The resonance of her voice seemed to fill the room. "There is within you a failsafe. I don't know why Soong created it, maybe to reduce your chances of ending up like Lore. Somehow when you created your daughter, her programming either successfully routed around it, or simply failed to activate it."
Her words faded into the background of his mind. "It is most curious I should find it difficult to follow what you are saying." He continued to gaze at the stars. "If only..."
"Someday, my friend," her voice was the breath of a whisper, "You, too, will route around it."
"I wished to teach her the finer points of true artistry. She would have enjoyed that, I think..."
"For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been."
The swirl of stars seemed to blur. Data blinked a puzzling burn from his eyes, and they slowly settled back into their spheres. "I shall miss her."
He frowned when he felt a perplexing drop of moisture resting upon his cheek. He touched his finger to the liquid, and drew back, staring in wonder at the opalescent drop. He turned. "Inquiry--"
Ten Forward was empty.
The expanse along the illuminated bar lay vacant. Shadows weaved together to form a shrouded tapestry of light and dark. But no silhouette of Guinan. He was alone.
The doors had not opened or closed.
~End