FicWad

- Aftermath -

37

The next day, two starships arrived at Epsilon Ursae 6 to begin the clean-up effort. The U.S.S. Progressive and U.S.S. Hawkeye first set to work stabilising both the Enterprise and Rutherford in preparation for towing to Earth. A transport tug was due the following day to take them home. A number of the crew from both damaged ships were staying as guests on the rescue vessels until the tug arrived. These included the members of the now galactically infamous Scooby Gang.

Since the end of the war, Buffy had enjoyed a good post-victory rest and, thanks to the Rutherford's Doctor Sishna, her burned arm was good as new. She hadn't quite had the bedside manner of Crusher, but she had been an interesting sight to see. Blue skin, white hair, and aerial feelers. Once healed and cleaned, Buffy had enjoyed the traditional eating of ice-cream with Willow; who had a major jet lag from her out-of-body experience. They'd had fun sharing their experiences from the previous day. Buffy talked of Rhamhal and Willow of how she had persuaded the Goddess to help. Xander and Anya had spent much of the time privately in a room. Apparently, Anya had many forms of reward to give Xander for his heroism. Giles had met with them for a brief celebration before associating with members of Starfleet and the Federation. Spike hadn't shown himself much. It seemed he was holding a grudge over the being-left-for-dead incident.

And Buffy had come to find that the Klingons now had developed a deep respect for her and her team. Even the Starfleet people had replaced their fear of them with awe. She was getting the impression that, on Earth, they had become minor celebrities by reputation alone.

And so, as the Sunnydale group celebrated, relaxed, and spent time catching up, it was the job of the Starfleet crews to clean all evidence of their infringement upon the habitat of the planet, and to ensure that no lasting damage was caused and that future generations of that world wouldn't, in a thousand years or two, find a tricorder or phaser buried in a field. It turned out to be quite an extensive undertaking. Thankfully, for members of the Enterprise and Rutherford crew, their part was largely over, which left them able to rest at last or attend to their own personal issues...



*



Picard moved briskly through the corridors of the U.S.S. Hawkeye. His destination - guest quarters 235, deck 7. He had personally spent the past day organising the beginnings of the clean-up operation and communicating with Starfleet almost continuously. Once the 2 relief vessels had arrived, he'd been in a number of meetings with Captain Naoko Nishimura of the Progressive and Captain Soumanou of the Hawkeye. In that time, he'd had Geordi working exclusively on repairing Data's neural net.

And, 15 minutes ago, he had received the call; Data was being discharged. He was both eager to see Data free from the bizarre parasite and back to being himself again, as well as concerned that the damage would prove irreparable.

As Picard reached the android's quarters, both Geordi and Beverly were on their way out and the trio met in the corridor outside his door.

"How is he?" the captain asked anxiously.

His chief engineer sighed. "I can't get anything out of him, Captain. He's...just...mumbling incoherently." His face, to Picard, looked weathered and forlorn.

"Then," Picard considered sadly, "the damage was beyond repair?"

"No, sir." Geordi replied, surprising his captain. "Don't get me wrong, it was pretty severe. I didn't even know it could be fixed until it was. But, far as I can tell, everything from the viral tag is back where it belongs in Data's head. And all his systems and programming check out. He... he should be fine."

"But he's not..."

Crusher put a gentle hand on Picard's arm. "Jean-Luc, he's been through an ordeal. I think he's...traumatised."

He allowed that thought to settle with him a moment. He needed to see Data himself. The responsibility he felt as a result of killing his second officer left him with the urgent need to do all he could to make it right again. "Perhaps I should talk with him. If you think he's up to it, Beverly."

"You can try. To be perfectly honest... he may not even realise you're there."

With a heavy nod, Picard entered the quarters alone.

The doors slid aside for him to reveal a room lit sombrely by a single desk lamp. Once the sound of the closing doors had passed, Picard could hear the nearby murmuring of a distraught man. It hardly sounded like the speech of the second officer he knew. But there his android science officer was. Sat in a small chair facing out toward the large single window panel, the artificial man stared out into space and toward the northern hemisphere of the 6th planet and uttered a jumble of sounds under his false breath. And suddenly, as if aware he was no longer alone, Data fell quiet.

Captain Picard gingerly moved around to sit across from his friend and, besides tears, he saw the face of a man who looked like he'd been crying.

"Terrible," the android uttered remotely. His gaze never left the stars and planet before him.

"Data?"

"Terrible... destruction. Such... horror. Destruction."

"No, Data. Our campaign was successful. The threat has passed." Picard had never seen Data in this state. Under no influence from outside forces yet... so lost.

"So much destruction," Data went on. "So many lives... one thousand seven hundred and eighty two lives...ended. Such... destruction."

The captain put out his hand and rested it on Data's arm in an attempt to ground him as he would a human friend. "Data. It's over."

"Captain?"

"Yes. Data, yes."

"I am...alone."

"I'm here, Data."

"I...I feel. Every horrifying thought that passed through his mind. Every terrible act of destruction he caused. Every life taken. A thousand souls crying out in pain. Tortured... Terrible... Destruction." And then he looked to Picard. "And... I recall... It felt /good/."

Picard watched Data drop his head and he gripped the man's arm tighter whether it had effect or not. "It wasn't /you/. None of that came from you."

"But I /feel/." He looked to his commander as if desperate for his help. "The...emotion chip. ...So long. It has never been active for...so long. I...find it impossible to recall a time without... such... /pain/."

"Data? Do you have control of the chip now?"

"...Yes."

"Then, perhaps-"

"Deactivate?" Data said as though the concept was new to him. "Betray those who were murdered?"

"Betray, Data? In what way would you betray them?"

"Their deaths were caused through me. If I deny them my pain... would I not be denying them justice?"

Right then, Picard understood. "Having your body and mind taken from you...and twisted...your thoughts opened up so that your enemy can get to the information inside...is the deepest of violations." - Data nodded to him - "Your thoughts become their thoughts become your thoughts until all that's left is Borg..." Picard stopped himself.

Data picked up on his captain's own inner torment, but allowed him to refocus his message.

"What you're feeling, Data, is guilt. You feel a measure of responsibility. You feel you should have fought harder and done more. But within yourself you know, as I did, that resistance really was futile."

Data felt something that could perhaps be described as inner warmth at that. And the loneliness drifted away because he knew with certainty that he was not the only one to experience such a situation. And he could see that Picard had survived his ordeal and was still capable of performing his duty. "Sir... How are you able to function with such... feelings?"

Picard stood slowly and moved to the window. Data followed him expectantly.

"They say that wounds heal with time. I wouldn't say that, Data. I think that time breeds familiarity. You become numb to it... until it doesn't hurt quite so much. It may always be there. Nightmares... may always haunt you. But you go on. Because pain, like pleasure, is part of life. Allowing yourself to be destroyed by the guilt won't bring justice. It will do nothing but add another casualty to the long list." He gave Data a most earnest look. "Don't let him have another victim, Data."

The android glanced once more out the window. He was relieved in some way to have a new context for his experience. "Perhaps," he considered, "I should deactivate the emotion chip for a while."

"I think that's a very good idea," Picard agreed. "Even for a short time. Just to give yourself a break. I think you've earned that right."

After a short pause, Data gave his head a twitch and the face that had been so marked by torment suddenly fell serene and neutral once again.

The captain gave him a gentle pat across the arm. "There are some friends outside who would be pleased to see you."



A few moments later, they were out in the corridor and Geordi La Forge was gripping his friend warmly by the shoulders. "Data? You okay?"

"I am functioning within acceptable parameters," came his standard response.

"It's good to have you back, Data."

The group then moved off toward the transporter room to attend the memorial party organised by the Rutherford crew. Data went with them. However, unknown to them, even with the emotion chip switched off, Data was by no means functioning as acceptably as he had hoped. Pain and guilt, it seemed, transcended technology and ate right into the core of his humanity.



*



Onboard the U.S.S. Rutherford:



Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg entered the ship's galley to find a crowded lounge with a small stage. Just outside the door had been a sign that read: GALAXY. Apparently the whole galley became a night-club on the weekends with a resident DJ. Looking around the room, Buffy saw first the Klingons, who were gathered in one corner of the galley by the narrow window that spanned the room. They noticed her enter and each one gave her a respectful nod. She returned the gesture with a flush of pride. Willow signalled that Giles was over in the great mass of casually dressed people and they headed toward him. Then Buffy noticed who was sat at the bar. Spike. Buffy broke off and moved to the bar.

Willow continued but was intercepted by Xander and Anya.

The three of them met and began to chat.



Spike didn't even have to turn to know that she was standing right behind him. Instead of turning, he refilled his empty glass from a whisky bottle and sank the lot.

She was still behind him. He could feel her there. He could smell her damn annoying scent. Annoying because it smelt so... delicious. Still, he had no intention of giving in to her. Not this time.

"I'm sorry," she said to him.

Spike swivelled around. "Oh. Really? Your sorry? Sorry for what? Leavin' me for dead?" He re-thought that last word. "Deader? ... Or just for forgettin' I exist at all?"

She took the chair beside him. "Yes. I'm sorry on both counts," she acknowledged.

He eyed her suspiciously. Somehow, Spike noticed a difference in her. She seemed to have gained a good degree of maturity since they last spoke.

"I'm truly sorry, Spike. There's no excuse. I just wanted you to know...I appreciate what you did back there. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Too right," he slurred and took another double shot of whisky. "But you can stick your apology. Stick it." He let out a guffaw. "Stick it right up your hole... if you can tear the stake out from up there." Then he really did laugh. "I really don't like you, Slayer. You're a...you...you're..." He stumbled for a cutting remark to make. "You...Buffy, you're... You /smell/!" With that, he retreated back to his drink.

Buffy nodded. For the first time in his memory she didn't bite back. "Well...thanks anyway." And she left.

Spike spun around but she didn't look back as she moved into the crowd to join her friends. He cursed as the barman replaced his bottle with a full one. "She really does smell, you know," he informed the disinterested man. "Wonderful. She smells... wonderful. With her... her beauty... effuljit...effulger...effuln... oh, whatever." And he drank.



Buffy met with her three friends just as an excited Australian man passed by them. "Awright, guys," he said and gave Xander a casual salute. "Welcome to the Rutherford," he offered to her and Willow. "Enjoy the evening! Visit the bar as much as you want! The first drink's on the house and the rest are free!" He gave Xander a hearty slap on the back and went on his way.

The Scoobies smiled at each other as Riker approached. He drew up to Xander and, after a beat, he offered his hand. Xander took it awkwardly.

"Midshipman Harris." Riker smiled and shook Xander's hand with gusto. "Good work." Then he addressed them all. "Do any of you play an instrument?"

They looked to each other for a bemused moment.

"One of you has to do a turn," said the commander. "It's traditional."

The others began a reflexive round of 'no' when Willow recalled Giles' secret talent for singing and guitar playing.

"Then do me a favour and ask your friend for me. I can have a guitar here in ten minutes." Riker put out his hand and stopped a young man. "Ensign - go down to the cargo bay and replicate me an acoustic guitar."

"Sure thing, Commander." The kid went off quickly on his mission.

"I'll see you a little bit later," Riker finished with a smile and turned back to Xander. "Nice beard." The commander then vanished into the throng.

Xander grinned with satisfaction and the others felt pride for him.

"I thought there was gonna be music," Buffy noted, eager to dance and let her hair down a lot.

Xander nodded. "Later. They're having a short memorial first."

Before they knew it, they were chatting and mingling promiscuously all throughout the room.



Rupert Giles was between chats when the captain of the Rutherford approached him and handed him a guitar. "I've been told this is for you."

Rupert took the instrument with a questioning frown.

Captain Freeman continued by explaining: "Mr. Giles, I'll be saying a few words shortly and I'd like you to sing a number. I only wish I could do it myself... but I'm tone-deaf." He gave a chuckle.

"You want me to sing?" Giles replied feeling somewhat ambushed.

"Please. If you don't mind, that is. It would be great to have a representative from your team on the stage tonight."

"Well then," Rupert considered, "I'd be happy to. Did you have anything in mind?"

"I'll leave that in your hands, Mr. Giles. Just...something to express the way we are all feeling." Freeman thanked him and made his way to the stage.



The galley gradually fell silent as everyone's attention was drawn toward the stage where Captain Freeman stood before them.

"Ladies," he called out. "Ladies and gentlemen. Those of non-specific gender. Friends, aliens, and fellow officers. And, of course, those of other-dimensional origin." - Dave received a round of subtle laughter from the room - "We're all gathered here tonight in celebration. And, yet, we're here with a deep sense of mourning. I'd like to be the first to offer a toast... to our fallen comrades. The opportunity to live full lives was taken from them, but they lived their lives to the full."

Some cheered and sounded aye's and whoops. The Scoobs even thought they heard a cry of 'here-here'.

"Shakespeare, in Hamlet, said that death was the 'undiscovered country'," Dave went on. "In my heart, I believe he was right. I see our lost ones making new discoveries as we speak. Continuing their mission. They went from this life, and they went boldly... To explore the one, true, final frontier."

Again the crowd cheered.

"And to the Klingons, who perhaps suffered the greatest blow." Freeman raised a glass of bloodwine to the gathering. "To our honoured dead. VAd QUV VO'dAQ hEGH!"

The Klingons roared and raised their goblets in toast.

"Now, I know they wouldn't want us to wallow in grief, so the celebration will go on. Think not of what we have lost today... But give thanks for that which we still have."

There followed a great rousing cheer from all.

"In a moment, Commander Riker will be performing his jazz favourites with his band. But I'd first like to welcome Mr. Rupert Giles of the now infamous 'Spooky Group' onto the stage."



Xander turned to the girls. "What?"

Willow's mouth had dropped. "Spooky Group? .../Spooky/ /Group/?! ...Don't they know we're the Scooby Gang?"



Up until that point Giles had no idea what he was going to sing. But, from what Freeman had said, his choice was made. He decided upon a song that would be moving in the way it was sung. Something to give added meaning to Freeman's toast.



Giles appeared on stage where a stool and microphone device waited for him. He sat with his guitar resting across his thigh and began to strum a simple, slow and emotional tune.



"/If life is a river... And your heart is a boat. And just like a water baby, ba-by... Born to float. And if life is a wild wind...that blows way on high. And your heart is Amelia... Dying to fly. ...Heaven knows... /.../No frontiers/... /And I've seen heaven in your eyes/."



The room was quiet and the audience watched him play and listened intently to his soft yet gravel voice.



"/If life is a bar room... In which we must wait. 'Round the man with his fingers...on the ivory gates. Where we sing until dawn... Of our fears and our fates. And we stack all the dead men... In self-addressed crates. In your eyes, faint, as the singing of a lark... That somehow this black night... Feels warmer for the spark, ...Warmer for the spark. ...That holds us 'til the day... ...When fear will lose its grip... ...And heaven has its way. Heaven knows... ...No frontiers... And I've seen heaven in your eyes/."



Either it was the song or Giles' voice, but a warmth filled the room. Xander put an arm around Anya and Willow. Many others shared hugs around the room.

Buffy noted the presence of Spike beside her watching the performance.



"If your life is a rough bed... Of brambles and nails. And your spirit's a slave...to man's whips and man's jails. Where you thirst and you hunger... For justice and right. And your heart is a pure flame... Of man's constant night. In your eyes, faint, as the singing of a lark... That somehow this black night... Feels warmer for the spark, ...Warmer for the spark. ...That holds us 'til the day... ...When fear will lose its grip... ...And heaven has its way. ...And heaven has its wa-ay... ...When all will harmonise... ...And you know what's in our hearts... ...The dream will realise. Heaven knows... ...No frontiers... And I've seen heaven in your eyes, Heaven knows... ......No fronti-i-iers...... ......And I've seen ... heaven in yo-o-our...... eyeeeees..."

He plucked delicately at the strings of the guitar and brought the song to a close. A moment of silence passed. Then Giles received a favourable applause. He flushed and gave a wave before ducking out of the spotlight.

Once clear, Will Riker came up with his trombone and set up on the platform.

"He was good," Spike said to Buffy. "For a stiff." Then he gave her a wink and went out the door. She puzzled after him. She just couldn't work him out at all.



A couple of minutes later, beautiful and relaxing jazz music filled the room.

Willow was about to further complain about the 'Spooky Group' situation when she noticed Chief Engineer La Forge arrive. He was alone, which got her attention. She would have expected his best friend, Data, to be with him. She was extremely concerned about the soft-hearted android and had been waiting expectantly for his arrival. She left her friends and walked over to the entranceway where the engineer stood in a deep purple shirt and shining black pants. "Hi, Geordi."

"Willow. Hi there. Have you seen Data at all tonight?"

She groaned. "I was gonna say the same thing."

"Well, we all beamed over here a while ago," he told her. "But we got side-tracked and split up." He regarded the lounge. "I see Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher made it here." Geordi gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he'll be along soon."

But, when he left her to meet his crewmates, Willow went out the door to search for the android.

Asking the computer for his location, she followed its instructions and found Data in an observation gallery looking out at the planet and the broken shell of the Enterprise in orbit beside them.

Data regarded her when she spoke his name. "Miss Rosenberg."

"Data, you can call me Willow. You don't call Geordi 'Mr. La Forge', do you?" she asked with humour.

"I was not aware we were on such familiar terms, Miss Rosenberg. Are we...friends?"

"Sometimes, Data, people can meet and instantly feel comfortable together. I've known people to bond in minutes."

"Have we bonded?"

She smiled. "Maybe not yet but I think there could be bondage. I mean-" She went red and back-tracked. "Okay, scratch that. I like you, Data. I think we can be friends."

Data looked back to his ship. "I am a dangerous friend to have, Willow. I am a machine, not a person. I can be... reprogrammed with terrible results. It has happened to me before."

"What you went through," Will said softly, "it isn't so unusual where I come from either. For example; Xander was a pig-eatin' hyena-man."

Data pushed up an eyebrow and aimed it at her.

"My point is; people can be corrupted too. A spirit made Xander eat a pig. It even caused others to eat a /man/." She paused for dramatic emphasis. "Data, you've made contact with a being the likes of which has never been encountered in this universe. You shared your mind with it. Your experience will prove invaluable if your people are to understand the supernatural. You may be able to bridge the gap with the unique perspective you have gained."

"Many people paid a heavy price for my unique perspective. I was the tool of so much destruction. I wonder at times if my being functional is more of a detriment than a benefit. My selfish desire to become more human may lead others to harm."

"Data, I'm sorry, but that's just a big bunch of baloney. Every human being has that responsibility to carry. We all have potential to cause harm or do great things. I needed to talk to you, Data, because I want you to know something very important."

She gained his undivided attention.

"The Darkness that was in you... The ability it has to command a person's body as though it was its own is based on one incontrovertible law. The spirit...the entity...the being that took your body and mind from you can only do that...if the victim has a soul."

Again she paused for emphasis but saw that Data could not grasp the spiritual concept she was presenting.

"A soul is a life! A human life! If there is a lesson you can take from this...there it is. Because, if there was any doubt before in anyone's mind, at least now it can't be argued... You have a /soul/, Data."

His golden yellow eyes began to widen in a distinctly human response.

"I can't tell you when you got it or where it came from," she added. "But you have one. And you are /alive/."

If Data had breath he would have gasped. Could it be true? That his personality had evolved to the degree that he had become a human soul? Although the thought was unbelievable, he didn't doubt the honesty of his new friend.

"And, hey," Willow declared, "you have a whole bunch of other living friends who would really love to see you at the party." She offered him her small delicate hand. "Come on. Guilt's a cage, Data. You can't do any good in a cage. You can respect the lost ones by living up to your dreams just like they did."

The yellow man reached out and took her hand.

She led him out of despair and into the warmth of humanity.



*



Dance music vibrated through the Galaxy club when Willow returned to the galley with Data. DJ Chevva Swift was up on the stage working the decks and mixing tracks.

Data's friends and crewmates came to greet him zealously.

Xander stepped away from the dance floor and came to Willow. He threw a thumb over to the DJ. "He's playing a selection of hits from our year," he said over the loud music. "But I never heard the songs before. I think he's a few months ahead of us. I didn't have the heart to tell him. Actually, I thought we could make a few bucks off the info somehow." A coy grin crossed his face.

"Xander!" she berated.

"I'm joking!"

"Good." Sometimes his mischievous nature shocked her. "How could you make money from it anyway?"

"This track," he explained, "it's gonna be number one in November! I'm sure there are places that take bets on future hits..."

"Really?" Then she shook her head and gave him a slap on the arm. "Stop it!"



Data had disappeared for a few minutes to mingle and, when Geordi located him again, he was in the centre of the floor - performing some kind of chicken dance. Those dancing around him were stopping their own gyrating to regard the insane spasms of the mechanical man.

Data strutted, boogied, and jived away until the beep of his communicator brought his funky frolicking to a stop. He tapped the badge under his crimson jacket. "Data here."

"It's Geordi, Data," came the reply.

The android looked around the room until he spotted his friend by the bar. He waved. "Is there a problem?"

"No. No problem. Just... what are you /doing/?"

"I believe I am dancing," replied the android. Data walked from the dance floor and joined La Forge at the bar. "Was I not...good?"

Geordi winced at the question. "It was... interesting," he called above the dance tune.

"Aah. I see," he replied. "Perhaps I was attempting to emulate too many styles simultaneously."

His friend smiled. "Look, Data," he shouted.

The android cut in, "Geordi, you do not have to shout. I can hear quite clearly." He tapped his artificial ears.

"Right," said La Forge in a more comfortable tone. Though it was one he could not even hear himself. "I think I'm gonna head back to the Hawkeye and call it a night. The tug's due to arrive early and, besides, the Klingons are up next and I don't think I'm gonna stick around for the noise."

"I understand completely. Klingon music can be quite unforgiving," Data agreed in all seriousness.



The party continued into the early hours until only a handful of people remained. The Scoobs were among the last to depart - with Xander carrying a drunk and sleeping Anya - yet still there were Klingons immersed in song. They'd sung about the war. They'd made up songs for each one of their party. They'd created a song for the Scoobies. And now they were delving into the classics.

Buffy helped Giles stumble haphazardly out of the night-club and toward the transporters. After watching Buffy struggle for a deck and a half, Willow thought it helpful to point out the dismissible nature of synthohol.

Buffy halted. "What?!" Then she looked to the heavy man she was helping.

Giles squinted through foggy beer goggles. "Really?" His mind suddenly began to clear and, standing up straight, he realised it was his spectacles that were in fact fogged over. He was suddenly quite clear-headed.

Buffy huffed and continued on.

Giles curled his lip up. "Well...that's brought my evening to an anti-climax." And he soberly followed his team away. "I was looking forward to the spinning bedroom and the mid-morning throwing-up."



*



The following day - or, to be more precise, later that morning - the transport tugship Tamaroa arrived at their location. Almost the entire complement of the Enterprise and Rutherford were transported to the Tamaroa/, /along with the Sunnydale group and, once the two battered ships were secured by the large vessel's heavy-duty tractor beams, they departed finally from the Epsilon Ursae star system and made their way steadily to Earth. They were, at last, going home.