SPARTACUS

by T. L. MANCOUR

  Including the consideration of alien races for Federation membership.

  It was an emergency measure, of course. The usual method for a race applying for Federation membership was a long process involving countless councils, hearings, boards of inquiry, and seemingly endless negotiations. But, in a pinch, special consideration could be given, and a starship captain had the authority to grant it.

  “That’s quite an—unusual—request.” Picard breathed. Jared continued to smile serenely.

  “Not really, Captain. Shall I quote you the pertinent sections from the Articles of Federation and the amendments to said articles? I have them memorized . . .”

  “I’m sure you do. That will not be necessary,” Picard said mildly, his mind racing to try to figure out this startling new wrinkle. He needed time. “I know the sections you are referring to, and I don’t believe that they are applicable in this case.”

  “I was told otherwise.”

  Picard watched the screen in rapt attention. “By whom were you told?” he asked quietly, an edge in his voice.

  “By your own second officer, Mr. Data,” Jared replied. “He suggested that I look at the articles pertaining to both the application and petition and provided us with all the applicable information. He also mentioned that the Federation has to protect its own. He even advised us on the preparation of the legal papers, when requested. I commend you on an excellent officer. I have all the proper documents prepared for your review, if you will be so good as to beam them over. Or, I can arrange a transfer by shuttle, if you prefer.”

  Picard stood quietly a moment, as the possible consequences of what was happening rebounded through his mind. Data’s objections to his intention had finally reared their ugly heads—he had found a loophole in Picard’s decision not to interfere. A good one, too—under other circumstances Picard might have even said brilliant. He had figured that Data might take some symbolic action in response to the decision; but he had thought that the android would resort to some reasonable but ineffective means of expressing displeasure, such as an official protest in the ship’s log. He had certainly not expected this.

  And there was the matter of the Vemlan fleet, fully prepared for battle, not seven thousand kilometers away in space, with an irate, and no doubt trigger-happy Alkirg in command. She certainly would not take the androids’ petition lightly. Commander Sawliru seemed to be the epitome of the stalwart career military man, but the passion in his eyes when he had spoken with the androids had spoken of a ruthless, nearly fanatical efficiency in his duty. Though Picard had every confidence in his ship’s ability to ward off any attack from the Vemlan fleet, he neither wanted to put his own vessel in danger nor did he wish to wipe out an alien fleet of warships.

  “Mr. Riker, where is Commander Data?”

  “Off duty, sir,” Riker said.

  “Please summon him to the bridge,” Picard said in a low voice. “Immediately.”

  Picard returned his attention to the android on the screen.

  “I will discuss this with my staff, Captain Jared. Your petition may indeed have its merits. But I must tell you, sir, Federation law and Starfleet regulations do not exist to be bandied about like rules in an athletic competition. Picard out,” he called. The computer cut the transmission before Jared could reply.

  Picard sat back in his seat, and closed his eyes. The damndest thing about the whole request was that Data actually might have provided a way out of the mess with minimal loss of life—if the Vemlan navy could be dealt with.

  The turbolift door whizzed open, and Picard turned to see if it was Data entering. It was Deanna, however—and from the expression on her face, she clearly sensed some trouble.

  “Is there a problem, Captain?” the counselor asked.

  “Yes. Mr. Data has had a busy day.”

  “Data?” asked Deanna as she sat down beside him, puzzled. “What has he done now?”

  “He invited the androids to join the Federation.”

  “He did what?” she asked, shocked.

  “Apparently,” Picard said, mildly, “he pointed out the advantages of being members of the Federation in their current situation. He also supplied them the proper information about how to go about doing so legally. I have yet to check on its accuracy—but knowing Data as we both do, I have no doubt that he has been more thorough than necessary.”

  “Do they have a case?” Troi asked.

  The captain shrugged. “That’s what we need to decide.”

  “Doesn’t he know that the provisions for granting membership are highly specific? How can he think that they apply in this case?” asked Riker. Clearly, his first officer still did not trust the androids. The fact that Jared and his crew had admitted to killing millions of innocent people, had almost seemed to be proud of it, was something Picard had problems with too.

  “I have no idea,” Picard admitted. “But I suspect we will find out shortly.”

  “They’re just using the petition as a ruse to save their own skins,” Riker said, angrily. “There’s no way they can do this.”

  “Careful, Number One,” Picard said warningly. “Stranger things can happen. Who would have thought a hundred years ago that a Klingon would be in charge of security on Starfleet’s most advanced vessel?” He stood and headed for his ready room, shaking his head. “There are still too many unknowns. I don’t particularly like it—under the circumstances it does feel like an abuse of the system. Not to mention the fact that the Vemlan navy is just a few thousand kilometers away, preparing to storm the Freedom, and will be very put off by having to wait—if a case can be made to grant the application.

  “But it is quite possible that Jared and company will be our new allies. Will you join me in the ready room? Worf, send Data in as soon as he arrives.” The captain got up and headed for the door. “This may actually turn out all right, in the end,” he remarked.

  “If we all survive that long,” Will said, as he paused to let the door open.

  “Data, it has always been my practice to be sure of the facts before I act, whenever possible,” Picard began, quietly. “In this case I want to be certain of your motivations before I comment, lest I jump too hastily to conclusions. Please explain just what you had in mind by having Jared present that application.”

  Data sat calmly, hands folded in his lap. He looks like Buddha in his serenity, Picard thought, as he took the other seat, recalling a statue he saw in a temple in Sri Lanka once.

  “I found the situation as it stood unsatisfactory, sir,” he began. “A destructive conflict that served no constructive purpose was an illogical and unnecessary waste of resources. There had to be a better way. I analyzed it from several different perspectives, using my fullest analytical capabilities. I eventually found a solution that was logically sound as well as being desirable for all parties concerned.”

  “I doubt if the Vemlan navy will see it that way,” countered the captain, arching his eyebrows. “But that is beside the point. My wishes in this matter were well known to you, Mr. Data. I set forth a policy that I expected to be obeyed and supported by my crew, regardless of their personal feelings on the matter.”

  “I did not disobey orders, Captain; nor did I commit any act that might be interpreted as undermining your authority or your policy,” countered Data.

  “Then how do you explain yourself? How do you explain Jared thanking me for your kind assistance?” Picard asked. He found himself beginning to get angry.

  “I simply informed the Vemlan androids that Starfleet was only obliged to protect those affiliated in some way with the Federation. It did not take them long to extrapolate, once they had the data, a theoretical course of action that might place them in a position where a Starfleet vessel would protect them. They are impressively logical beings. In the face of such overwhelming opposition, the Vemlan navy would logically be forced to quit their claim on the Vemlan androids.”

  Picard appreciated Data’s sense of strategy, but there were ramifications
here that he knew Data had not taken into account—to the detriment, perhaps, of the entire ship. “Did it not occur to you in your calculations, Data, that the Vemlan navy is not the most logically based organization in the galaxy? The attitudes of the mission commander alone should have been enough to convince you that a very emotional and illogical response was likely in such a case. Faced with the threat of the Enterprise, no matter how powerful and overwhelming we are militarily, Alkirg is not likely to simply go away without a fight.”

  “To do otherwise would mean the probable destruction of the entire fleet,” Data said.

  “Yet we are dealing with a military mindset that is violently reactionary, to say the least!” Picard shot back. “There are thousands of historical cases of hopeless battles, Data—cases when a military commander knows the odds, knows for a fact the eventual outcome, and fights all the more viciously because of it. You may well draw the Federation into a war just as senseless as the one you have sought to prevent—but magnitudes larger—by inviting the androids to join the Federation!”

  “I did not invite them, Captain, I simply showed them the applicable documents and let them do the rest,” Data admitted. “I could not in good conscience do otherwise. I was acting in my capacity as a member of Starfleet, whose duty it is to exhaust every means possible to settle disputes peacefully.”

  Picard frowned. He couldn’t find fault with that, as it stood. In fact, he admired Data’s resolve and ingenuity. But he did not like the prospect of involving a starship full of innocent civilians—for which he was responsible—in a violent and unnecessary battle when he had already limited the conflict. “Data, do you realize what you have done? You have presented us with a very real possibility of war.”

  Data considered, cocking his head for an instant. “Correct, Captain. Yet I have also introduced an element into the situation that no longer makes war inevitable—simply a remote possibility.”

  “Not remote enough,” Riker said, clearing his throat.

  Picard nodded. “What exactly did you tell the androids? Did you communicate sensitive documents?”

  “No, sir; the Articles of Federation are to be made available to any and all alien cultures, races, and civilizations. Amendment to the Federation Charter, Section six, paragraph nine. You gave no order against communicating with the Freedom, or the Vemlan navy, for that matter. I was within the bounds you set,” Data explained.

  “Data, I think you are missing the point,” the captain said, shaking his head. “As much as I respect you as an officer, I still think you lack a proper understanding of the situation. The United Federation of Planets is a mutually cooperative agency, not a refugee camp for aliens in trouble. Or perhaps it is I who don’t understand. Even accepting the dubious nature of what you have done, there is still the matter of the effects of your actions. Did you not take them into account before you went to the androids?”

  “I examined the potential ramifications before I proceeded . . . and found them well within the limits of acceptability.”

  “Including the fact that Commander Alkirg—certainly not the most levelheaded diplomat I’ve ever known—who has a war fleet ready for combat, might take action against us if we try to intervene once again?”

  “The Vemlan naval fleet was taken into account, Captain,” Data said, smoothly, “as was the possibility that the androids might attack our ship if we failed to intervene. I believe that the greater threat is from them. From what I have seen, the Alphas on the Freedom are more than capable of taking the Enterprise—if they chose so—by any number of means. The threat from the fleet is present, I admit,” Data said, “but the threat from the androids, who are accustomed to unconventional methods of warfare, is, in my opinion, much greater. By my actions I have effectively neutralized the threat of the androids by appealing to the moderate elements on board the Freedom. The threat from the fleet is an overt and easily counterable one. Androids,” Data said, “can be very devious, when they want to be.”

  “Shouldn’t that be when we want to be?” commented Riker.

  Data considered. “As you wish,” he said, and was quiet.

  Which did little to comfort Picard. What Data said about the intentions of the Alphas was doubtlessly true—he could corroborate the possibilities with Worf, if necessary—but he did not approve of his second officer’s disregard for proper channels. “Why didn’t you ask my permission in the first place?” asked Picard, tiredly.

  Data blinked. “Suppose I had indeed proposed the idea of an application for Federation membership to you, would you have supported it?”

  “Certainly not!” exclaimed Picard. “It would have—is going to—” he corrected himself, “simply throw grease on the fire—make an already bad situation worse,” he amended, as he saw Data about to question the idiom.

  “Is it not better to ask for forgiveness, rather than permission?” Data asked. “I have heard that saying repeatedly in my career.”

  “No!” both Riker and Picard exclaimed. They looked at each other for a moment, and Picard continued. “But you have, indeed, presented me with a fait accompli.” He looked pained and tried to express his feelings. “Data, this is a very complex issue, one that could take years—even decades—to untangle. Matters of jurisdiction, legality, and justice are involved, matters that have no bearing on this ship. More importantly, to me, is the fact that I have a ship full of children and civilians in the middle of a potential combat zone. I had managed to carve a path out of the carnage and now you’re forcing us back into it.” He sighed. “All of this discussion is academic, however. I am going to exercise my authority to deny the request for admission in this case as an abuse of the procedure.”

  Riker looked slowly up at Jean-Luc. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, Captain.”

  “What?” Picard demanded, startled.

  Riker looked uncomfortable. “At the very least, you have to convene a hearing to consider the application. If the applicants meet all the requirements for membership, in your opinion, then they have to be referred to the Federation administrative council.”

  “Yes. You’re right, of course,” he said. He had forgotten about that. It was an amendment to the Federation Charter, number six, section four, paragraph something or other. You could not summarily dismiss a proposed application. Doing so would possibly stifle the diversity the Federation prized so highly.

  “I’m afraid so, Captain,” nodded Riker, sadly. “There’s no provision for suspending the rules—no matter who makes the application, terrorists included. Any request for admission must be heard.”

  Picard thought. “You’re more up on this than I am, Number One. Am I not released from this duty if I find the applicants do not meet eligibility requirements?’’

  “Yes,” Will agreed. “Then the petition is filed and dismissed. As long as there is precedent or reasonable grounds for your dismissal, we have no obligation to the androids.” He glanced at Data, who was staring straight ahead at the captain.

  “Yes. There must be precedent.” The test for admission was very simple. A planet had to be willing to abide by the charter of the Federation and help keep the ideals behind it in an open spirit of peace and cooperation. That included agreeing to arbitrate disputes through the auspices of the Federation, cooperating with Starfleet in times of emergency, opening up its town culture for study, and exchanging information freely. If a planet was willing to do that and the hearing chairman—himself, in this case—could find no malicious or ill intent in the applicant, then the case was referred to the administrative board for further negotiations.

  He turned his chair and stared at his quiet, uncomplicated, undemanding fish. He wished be could join them.

  “Very well,” he said, resignedly. “I will convene a hearing. I will have to tell the Vemlan navy about this as well. I don’t think that they’ll be happy.”

  “Probably not,” Riker agreed. “Alkirg can’t wait to get her hands on the androids.”

  Picard turned back
around to face his other officer. “Data, I think it’s clear that you have an overwhelming sympathy for these androids—as well as a dogged determination to see a peaceful conclusion to the situation. Under normal circumstances, I would have no problems with this—I want you to understand that. But these are far from normal circumstances. Just because the androids are your friends doesn’t allow you to flout my orders for them.”

  “Permission to speak, sir?” the android asked.

  Picard sighed. He had hoped to escape without a rebuttal. “Granted.”

  “My loyalty lies now, as ever, with Starfleet,” he said, evenly and matter-of-factly. “I am first and foremost a Starfleet officer. I have sworn to uphold Starfleet’s mission to seek out new life and alien civilizations, to better our understanding of the galaxy. I have provided a method of peaceful exchange where the only possibility before was loss of life and destruction of an entire species. I have acted to gain an opportunity to learn the unknown about an alien species. Is that not the primary function of Starfleet?” he asked.

  “You deny your empathy with the androids?”

  “No, sir. I deny that my personal relationship with the applicants was the prime motivating factor for my actions. I was moved to advise them out of a sense of duty to Starfleet, a concern for the safety of the ship, and respect for the lives of all concerned, not out of a simple desire to see the Alphas escape. The two happened to coincide, that is all.”

  “I see,” Picard said, sensing that there was more to Data’s actions than he had thought. Perhaps he had underestimated this android—this man, he corrected himself. “That’s food for thought, then. You are dismissed.”

  “Thank you sir. I must prepare for the hearing.”

  “You must what?” asked Picard incredulously.

  “Prepare for the hearing. I am going to testify on behalf of the applicants. It would be improper for them to have less than the full knowledge of the proceedings at their disposal.”