Title: the Begotten Race

Author/pseudonym: juls Lake Heath

Fandom: ST: TNG

Paring: S/B

Rating: G

Status: NEW

Archive: Yes, please at WWOMB

E-mail address for feedback: please, to juls@texas.net

Series/Sequel: the ending story of many

Other websites: http://oregondonor.simplenet/juls/index/html

Disclaimers: Star Trek and all its progenitors were Gene Roddenberry's babies

Summary: Data's 1047 years old today. A lot has changed in the last thousand years!

Warnings: Oh -- go ahead! Read it!

The Begotten Race

by Juls Lake Heath

He looked at his hands and remembered what his father's hands had looked like when he'd crested a century. They'd been bony and crippled, spotted with age and gnarled from abuse. His looked as soft and new as they had the day he'd been awakened by the Tripoli landing party, one-thousand forty-seven years ago today -- his celebrated birthday.

His descendants, many of them, would be arriving soon, bringing him their tidings and asking him to tell stories of how it used to be. It would be an interesting day, a day of remembrance...

Data's clothing selection materialized on him, and he glanced in the imager. Not a hair was out of place. He had actually gone through a phase of trying to make his hair look stringy, but his father had designed it to be soft and flowing, and it never did look right.

His lightly tanned skin was made to look pale by his deep blue eyes. He had vowed to never change them, to always keep their android appearance, but six-hundred years prior, when being an android became a particularly lethal disclosure, he'd had no other choice. Either he looked human, died, or hid. He chose to try to be human, hoping to have a better chance of changing what had happened. And, he thought, he did have a lot to do with reversing the fear that had been loosened upon organic beings.

Backing that up was today's celebration, the freedom to travel, propagate, and prosper, for him and his kind.

Satisfied with his appearance, he stepped off of the valet and went into the gathering room. His status demanded a large one, as he had many visitors. His biggest fear, of being alone in his last years, as his father had once been, had never happened and no longer looked like it would. He asked for a cup of Earl Grey, and relived his usual morning memories about Captain Picard, one of his earliest and dearest friends, whom he had cared for during his dying years with a devastating disease.

While he still sipped plaintively, the guest bell chimed.

"Come," he called without looking around. It didn't matter who was there, they were welcome.

"Hello, Great Papa... Happy birthday, Forefather!...Greetings from the thirty-first clan," etc, came seven distinct voices.

He stood to find three androids he knew, four he did not, and a human who was also a stranger.

Data was introduced to those he didn't know. They had come several parsecs to meet him, and found it a great honor. He smiled earnestly, even though he'd heard this more times than he could remember. He asked and was told which branch of his family they had been created by, and he added them, and any known relatives, to his lineage chart.

The human, it turned out, was a historian from an inner-cluster world, named Fy, who was here to document this occasion, with his permission. Data, gracious as always, promised him any assistance he needed.

By this time, the second wave had arrived, and it started all over again. The gifts from the first arrivals were put with those still coming, waiting for a moment's attention to be opened. It would not be happening soon. Some of the edible and drinkable rarities available only in the locations they had come from, were to be shared with all and were placed on large, open serving areas scattered about the room.

Several non-android species had arrived before noon. For them, this would be an interesting occasion. Large gatherings of androids could be very confusing, and noisy. Able to monitor dozens of conversations at once, they would often intermingle among each other, in a constant stirring of drifting conversation, without losing track of what was being said. It wasn't unusual to have more than one piece of music being played, or concurrent gaming. It was a vast exchange of information that happened very rapidly. It could be an overwhelming experience for organics who were unprepared.

It went on that way all day.

That evening, when those who had come only to show their respect or deliver a gift had gone, the remaining visitors gathered in a more subdued manner, taking chairs, or sitting on the floor. Traditionally, this was their question and answer time with Data. Every year when they gathered here, in this dimly lit room, Data would share with them their own history, as he had recorded it at the time. They were now a race and had their own culture. Even though they all shared pieces of his original programming, and there-by, his early memories, to hear Data tell about the creation and evolution of their species was probably what still pulled them there.

He described to them various technical breakthroughs and how he had discovered them. As always, someone wanted to know what it had been like before he had emotions, and he tried to explain the emptiness to beings who could never understand, but would be forever curious.

Then, someone wanted to know about Starfleet.

The United Federation of Planets was a distant echo. A forerunner of the Sagittarius Alliance, many of its basic tenets survived to this day. He told of the brave explorers from Earth and Vulcan that formed a union and explored the stars. He told how, much later, members of the Tripoli rescued him, and how he came to serve aboard the Enterprise-D. A hundred years later, he had wound up as captain of the Enterprise-M, and remained so through the Enterprise-O, when the Purges began.

A small branch of their family encountered and befriended a crystalline entity, and their programming had been altered. By-pass capacity of their ethics functions had effected them with the Lore Syndrome, and in their madness, they had gone to war with the Federation. The resulting terror they unleashed on the organics had instilled a prejudice that he still encountered. That was when he had gone undercover.

Fifty-seven years later, a mass Borg invasion had wiped out what was left of the Federation, and most of the alpha quadrant.

"This is when we re-emerged, because we had the opportunity to save the organics, and make up for the deeds of our brothers. You see, the Borg couldn't corrupt our brains and we were easily able to alter our appearances, so we could infiltrate their strongholds and disable them! After the Borg had been destroyed, we repopulated and rebuilt our race, because we had lost so many during the Purges.

"It took forty-three point seven two years, working nonstop, but we finally completed our goals, and began expanding, finding organics that had survived, and restoring their cultures and populations. Then we started reseeding them in non-hostile locations, where they could recover and grow.

"During that expansion, using my father's transwarp technology, together, we continued the exploration of the galaxy that the Federation had begun. Other Borg survivors were discovered in the inner regions of the Sagittarius Arm, and the Alliance was formed. Your history is very well documented from this point on."

"Tell us about Dr. Soong." "Did you have any organic friends during the purges." "Was your first cat really named Spot?"

"I know you're anxious, and I'll answer all your questions," he smiled reassuringly when several began at once."

"Excuse me, Great Papa, but I'm your Archive this year. I thought perhaps we should go ahead and begin the data transfer while you answered questions. I must return to Terra tomorrow."

"Of course, Morya. You may begin," he said, popping open an access terminal. "My systems are on auto for you." He turned his attention with a sweeping glance, re-addressing the on-lookers. With a rather embarrassed _expression, he smiled wryly and said,

"Let me tell you about Spot."

* * * * * *

Everyone had gone except Morya, who was still hooked up to Data. Every year, on his birthday, his entire programming was uploaded into a different android, to insure the continuance of his experiences and wisdom. He felt it an unnecessary redundancy, and unduly meaningful in a historical perspective. However, his descendants were the one who had established a culture rich in tradition, which stemmed from his own desires to join in human rituals and customs, so he followed these traditions.

"Sir?"

"I retired my commission centuries ago. If you want to use a title, please use Doctor. What was your question?" he asked as he puffed on a pipe. He gazed out at the sunrise, being careful not to entangle the cables as he walked.

"Why did you leave our home planet?"

"Omicron Ceti has some disturbing memories for me. I returned there because that's where my father put his installation. It seemed the perfect place to begin my work, but I had no desire to settle there."

Morya checked the memories she had downloaded from Data that involved their planet of origin.

"You first disassembled Lore there -- although, this knowledge was concealed from you for years. And Dr. Soong died there. But his rebirth as an android... *

"...was short-lived."

"The record of what happened to him is unclear," she frowned.

"I have never been absolutely sure. You will find a related file concerning my speculations. As you will know, he was experimenting with artificial consciousness. Susan, prototype and the only example of a Soong class 4 type android -- he believed -- would result in his ultimate proof that we have a consciousness that exceeds our bodies, just as many humanoids believe."

"But that has never been adequately proven for any species."

"Correct. My father either died, or transcended, during his attempts to document this proof, along with his mate, Susan."

"I am sad with you, Great Papa." As usual, when this phrase was used among his people, he leaned in for a compassionate embrace, and was comforted during his recollection of this loss. His father and he had interfaced many times before his destruction, but Data still missed him.

"Thank you, Morya."

"I will cherish this memory. The competition to fill the position of your Archive was extremely challenging! I can't tell you how many inspections I had to pass before being selected."

He puffed again, amused at how honored everyone was to be around him. It would be different if this only occurred on his birthday, but he encountered this everyday. His progenitors looked to him as the android equivalent of Adam. He stared back at the sunrise and noticed how the smoke from his pipe captured the color of the ascending disk just before everything went black for him.

"Shit!"

Being connected to him, Morya was instantly aware of what had happened. She rushed to him, to aid him in anyway possible.

"Great Papa, what do you want me to do?" she asked, running an independent diagnostic."

"It's probably temporary -- it's happened before," he told her as she was finding out that he was failing due to sensory degradation from his optical scanners. "If you could make sure I don't disturb our link while I go to my chair." He retraced the path from memory, and sat, while she watched the cables.

"I'm attempting repairs," he told her.

"Why haven't you reported this?"

"Because nothing can be done to correct it. It is only mildly annoying, and was predictable. At this point in my life, failures are bound to happen. Someday soon, I will fail completely."

"None of us has ever died of natural systems failure," she frowned, her distress obvious.

"It's also predictable that I would be the first. Since Lore is nonfunctional, I am the oldest existing android."

"My readings indicate that could still be a very long time."

"It could be. Either way, my affairs are in order."

"Are you afraid?"

"No. I am curious. Ah!" he said with a delighted smile. Morya knew through their hook-up that he could see her again, and returned the smile.

"I'm happy you can see, Forefather."

He nodded, and went on. "For a great deal of my life, I was in the sole company of organics. I have lost so many friends, and seen so much death, that I feel my eventual mortality is something that connects me with them."

"I see that this connection has always been important to you. You have even been jealous of humans. And that Q once gave you the opportunity to live as a human. Why did you reject the offer?"

"Because it isn't what I am. I finally came to accept that."

"But you could have had what you always wanted."

"I did not know what I wanted. Now I realize, I wanted exactly what happened."

"I can tell from your memories that you have great passion. Why did you not take another mate after Celia died, and why did you never take an android for your partner?"

"Because organic life is what rouses my passions. My interest in androids originated out of my desire to not be alone. After I discovered that my Father had survived his death and created Susan, I was no longer the only one of my kind. And after I installed the emotion chip that he gave me, I found out that I had never been as alone as I believed."

He smiled at the collection of memories from that first crew of humans that had befriended him.

Giving him his moments, Morya waited a while before she asked him her next question. Then,

"Great Papa, if you preferred the company of humans, why did you create us?"

"Because my father died before he got the chance. Also, Dr. Soong instilled in me the strong desire to propagate. I do not know if this was intentional, or if his desire for offspring was transferred to me during my creation, but when I was still quite young, I knew I wanted children. So I made them; and when they were ready to leave, I made more, because I had so enjoyed being with my first children. Then I met a human woman who enjoyed them, too."

"Kalina--your first wife."

"Mmmm." A tender smile bespoke how much he had loved her. "Yes. We created eighteen androids before she died, making twenty-two children, one hundred three grand children, and four great-grand children that we shared. She had a long life."

"None of your first children survived the Purges?"

"No. When the purges began, I had thousands of descendants. By the time the Borg invasion started, including myself, there were thirty-eight of us left to retaliate and rebuild, and they were all distant relatives.

"Those were the androids that sabotaged the Borg, revive our species, collected the scattered races, and helped to establish the Sagittarius Alliance."

"The thirty-eight lines of Soong..." she said with inspiration.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to bore you with history with which you're well versed. I tend to ramble on, a bit. It could have been worse -- I could have started reciting their names."

She smiled lovingly at her aged ancestor.

"To hear it from you, Great Papa, is not the same thing as a cold data transfer. Your words are living."

The questions continued throughout the duplication of his programming into Morya. It had taken just under twenty-five hours -- he had a lot of data and memories to transfer.

When they had finished, she expressed her regret about having to leave so quickly, but said her departure could not be postponed. He walked her out to the rendezvous pod that would take her to her transport point. She made a quick systems check and then stood to say her good-byes.

"I hope to see you again, Great Papa."

"And you as well, Morya. Tell your mother I send her greetings, and hope to meet the rest of her family."

"She said to tell you she still has the poem you gave her sixty-two years ago. She has it hanging with her degrees."

"I remember it well. She was here when she was newly created, with your uncle Secora. He had apparently been telling her about the Enterprise, because when she read the plaque on my wall, she got very excited. She accessed those memories in her original programming, and recognized the incident I had written about. It was the first time she ever experienced spontaneous cognition. I gave it to her to mark the occasion."

"She has always treasured it, as I will treasure him."

She moved a finger under the chin of the kitten in her arms. All androids loved pets, and were especially fond of cats. They needed things to take care of and watch over. When Data found out Morya had recently lost her dog from childhood, he had offered her a kitten from a current litter, and she had picked Butter Cat. Data reached out to say good-bye to the little fellow.

"Don't trust this one with birds. He comes from a long line of strong hunters."

"Thank you," she said, disturbed by the images his warning invoked. He batted at Data's finger for disclosing his secret.

Data hugged Morya and wished her a safe trip.

She told him what an honor it had been to be chosen as a repository for his knowledge and wished him long life. She nodded and smiled as the hatch closed, and he waved. They would probably never see each other again and they both knew it. But that is how it usually was with his distant relatives, and the fact that he had met so many of them was a testimony to their devotion.

He went back in to his at-last empty house and picked up a few things that were out of place. He gathered a small plate of the edibles that had been left, and went to the porch to enjoy the colorful haze of the setting sun while he sampled the snacks he'd selected.

The last two days had started him thinking of things it had been a while since he'd remembered. He thought of the days when he'd been devoured by purpose and discovery. At that time, he could never have known the direction his life would take, and the scale of history it would eventually encompass.

He had seen the births and deaths and peoples and planets, and even several stars. He had fought in wars and negotiated peace, broken some laws and changed others. He had seen the best and the worst of times and livingkind, and had found himself in both roles.

With all the excitement, change, love and devotion he'd ever found, none would ever compare to those early days aboard the NCC-1701-D. It was like a first love -- perhaps not the best, but the most intense, the most satisfying, and the one that constantly returned to mind.

He sighed when a large black cat hopped into his lap. He still missed Spot. And Picard, and Riker, Crusher and Troi. But most of all, he still missed Geordi, his first friend.

A speck of moving light caught his eye in the blackening sky. It winked out of sight when it entered warp drive. Data wondered if it was an Alliance ship, carrying a crew of near strangers to unknown places. He wondered if one of his descendants was on board, forging friendships with organics and synthetics alike, off to discover the meaning of life, love and loyalty.

He hoped, if so, that when they were his age, they had as much to remember and miss as he.

Juls Lake Heath

(C) 1997