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SIXTEEN

Deanna Troi stood amid the ruins of a cargo bay, scanning with a tricorder for signs of life.

More than anyone else, she was keenly aware of how very near they had all come to dying; images of what might have been—the same images that had haunted her on the bridge soon after the collision—still visited her dreams, with terrifying reality.

At the same time, she felt liberated, rejuvenated by the close brush with death. It had helped her to remember what was most important, to give up her anxiety over Worf and Will and what the future might hold.

She had spoken with them both, and discovered they both felt as she did—simply grateful to have survived, and willing to let any relationships unfold naturally.

She had spoken with countless crew members since the crash, trying to help them sort out their emotions. Surprisingly, the captain seemed reborn; Troi had expected that the loss of the Enterprise would come as a double blow, but Picard took it well, and appeared to have resolved his grief over the deaths of his nephew and brother.

She was far more concerned about Data. At the moment, she stood near him, gazing out at piles of collapsed bulkheads and bared, twisted circuitry.

The android’s expression was faintly anxious but composed as he aimed his tricorder at a pile of rubble. “I would like to thank you, Counselor, for helping me with my search. It is very kind of you.”

“It’s no problem, Data.” She looked up from the tricorder readout to smile at him. “I’ve already cleared out what I can from my quarters. I’m afraid there wasn’t much left.”

“You are dealing with your loss very well. Certainly better than I seem to be …. “He sighed glumly as he moved over to a new area and began again to scan. “That’s different, Data. I lost only things ….Besides, I’m quite impressed with how you’re handling this.”

The android nodded, and said, with the faintest trace of ingenuous pride, “It has been difficult, but I believe I have the situation under control.” “So you’ve decided not to remove the emotion chip?” “For now,” Data said, gazing out at the wreckage. “At first I was not prepared for the unpredictable na-ture of emotions… but after experiencing two hundred sixty-one distinct emotional states, I believe I have learned to control my feelings.” He squared his shoulders with such touchingly innocent determination that Troi repressed a smile. “They will no longer control me.”

“Well, Data,” Troi replied approvingly, “I hope that—” She broke off as her tricorder beeped, and stared down at the readout. “Over here!” She gestured excitedly at the android. “I think I’ve found something.”