It is 1300 hours, so I am on the Bridge. I always watch Captain Picard and the rest of the crew on the Bridge between 1300 hours and 1400 hours. I like the Bridge, because when I look up at the dome, I see many lights.

Captain Picard is talking, but I cannot see who he is speaking with. He may be talking to the computer. I do not know why he does that.

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 57955.7,” he says. “The Enterprise is en route to the Ligobis system where we will rendezvous with a vessel belonging to a reclusive group known as the Hespeth Consortium.”

I listen to the Captain, but I am more interested in the viewscreen. I count the stars. It takes me a fraction of a second. There are 4,295 visible stars.

“The Hespeth wish to establish diplomatic relations with the Federation, so Starfleet has instructed us to welcome their delegation aboard the Enterprise to begin negotiations,” the Captain continues.

I examine the curving blue lights along the floor, and then I turn toward the engineering station at the back of the Bridge. It displays a diagram of the Enterprise that is mostly black, yellow, and purple. Sometimes parts of the Enterprise are red, but none are red right now. Geordi told me that the diagram is called the Master Systems Display. Sometimes Geordi stands at the engineering station, but he is not here now. Instead, an officer I do not know is standing in front of the panel. Her hair is brown.

“I, for one, am eager to learn more about the Hespeth and their culture, and I hope our encounter will signal the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship,” Picard says.

Picard has finished. He turns to me and smiles. His bald head looks very shiny on the Bridge because of the bright lights in the dome. “B-4,” he says, “I would like you to join me and the senior staff tomorrow in Eleven Forward when we greet the Hespeth. It’s not every day that we encounter a new species.”

“Each day is made up of twenty-four hours,” I reply, “I do not know what time to come.”

“0900 hours. Will you come?”

I tilt my head to the left, considering. “Yes.”

Picard is still smiling. “Have I ever told you how much you remind me of Data when you do that?”

Seventeen times, I think. I do not say it out loud, because I do not believe that Picard wants me to tell him. “I am not Data,” I say instead.

The smile disappears from Picard’s face. “Of course.” He pauses. “I am sorry.”

I do not know how to respond, because I do not understand why Picard apologized.

#

1418 hours. On the way back to my quarters from the Bridge, I always visit the arboretum on Deck 10. I like the shapes and bright colors of the plants and flowers.

I walk on the stone paths. I see snapdragon, hydrangea, Antarian moon blossom, iris, antifern, prizewart, and Kaferian apples.

But that is Data talking. He knows the names of all of the plants; their taxonomy and anatomy; how much water each needs to survive–if it needs water at all; what happens to the gespar fruit during a sandstorm on Vulcan; how an earthquake with an epicenter three hundred kilometers from the Cardassian capital of Lakat rejuvenates the indigenous striated daylily flower.

I am not interested in any of this. Instead, I focus on the purples and reds of the flowers. One flower’s leaves droop, and another’s spread out like a fan. I run my fingers down a stem, and prick myself with a thorn. I am an android, so it does not hurt, and I do not bleed.

I keep walking. It is very quiet in the arboretum. Sometimes children play and laugh here, but not today. I hear only the clicking of the recirculating pump in the dark pond and the faint sucking sound of the climate control system.

I stop walking. I only know about the pump and climate control system because Data’s knowledge and memory engrams are embedded in my positronic network. I did not know my younger brother Data very well, or for very long. He and Picard found me, in pieces and buried in the dust on Kolarus III. Data wanted me to be more like him, so he gave me all his memories. I think he wanted me to change. But then he turned me off, because he believed I was dangerous. By the time Picard and the others turned me on again, Data was gone. I think they reactivated me because I reminded them of Data. But even though Data’s knowledge runs through my neural pathways and subroutines, I am still just B-4.

1429 hours. It is time for me to return to my quarters. Tomorrow I will meet the Hespeth. I wonder what they will be like.

#

At 0900 hours, I enter the room that is called Eleven Forward because it is at the front of Deck 11. The crew come here to eat, drink, and look at the stars. I do not eat or drink, but I often come here to look at the stars.

There are eleven people in Eleven Forward including myself, and I find the parallel interesting. Captain Picard is here with Commander Worf, the First Officer, as well as five other Enterprise crewmembers. All of them are wearing white jackets. I do not have one. I am wearing my brown jumpsuit, as I always do.

There are also three Hespeth here. They look as different from one another as Picard is different from Worf. One is very tall, with a face whiter than mine and orange eyes. Another has long, curving horns on its head. The third smells like it is rotting. It is wearing a black mask, so I cannot see its face.

“Once again, welcome to the Enterprise,” says Picard. “We hope you find your accommodations satisfactory.”

Picard does not say anything about the smell. Perhaps he does not notice, or perhaps it is not appropriate to mention it.

“Everything is adequate,” says the tall one. The voice is unusual. It is very loud, but sounds like it comes from somewhere else, far away.

“I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” says the Captain, “and this is Commander Worf.” Picard then introduces the other Enterprise officers. He does not introduce me.

“This body is named Tinat,” says the tall one, who appears to be female. She gestures toward the horned one. “That body–she is called Ress.”

“And your other companion?” asks Worf.

“I do not know his body’s name,” says Tinat.

The smelly one looks up. “I have been called Septil.”

“So now you know our names,” says Tinat.

“We are very pleased to meet you,” says Picard. “I hope we can find much common ground between our peoples.”

“That, I doubt,” says Tinat.

I listen while they talk, but I am more interested in how things look than in the sound of words. I notice that Picard and Worf hold green drinks in cups that look like lightbulbs I once saw in a Holodeck simulation of Earth. The Hespeth hold drinks in tall, thin cups that look like Dr. Crusher’s test tubes. I look around and compare the number of round and square tables in Eleven Forward. Then I count the stars in all the windows.

I focus on the conversation again when the tall one says, “Our Consortium has access to many different species. That is why each of us looks different.”

“The Federation also has many diverse member worlds,” says Picard, spreading his arms.

“It is not the same at all,” says Ress, the horned one. Her voice is also very loud yet very far away. “We may look different, but right now we are all the same. Your Federation speaks with too many voices.”

“There is a Vulcan proverb,” Picard says slowly, “‘Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.’ We value such diversity.”

“We do not care about diversity,” says Ress. “We have only one mission.”

“What is your mission?” asks Worf.

Ress opens her hands. “We are searching for our brothers and sisters, who we lost long ago. They call themselves the Paxans.”

“I’m afraid the Federation has not encountered them,” says Picard.

“They are very good at hiding,” says Tinat.

I stop counting the stitches on the furniture. Data has heard of the Paxans. Why does Data know, when Picard does not?

I open and close my mouth three times. Perhaps I should say something.

I locate Data’s memory of the Paxans. Strange. It is marked secret, and it is encoded in a subroutine that I have never accessed before. I probe deeper. Picard is not supposed to know about the Paxans, because Data was not allowed to tell him. I do not understand.

I blink my eyes four times. I open and close my mouth again, but I cannot say anything. It is a secret. Picard must not know.

The smelly one, Septil, has noticed me. He is looking at me now, but because of the mask, I cannot see his face.

“What is this one?” asks the smelly one, in a faraway voice. He has not spoken much yet. He points to me with a gloved finger. “He was not introduced.”

“That is B-4,” says Picard. “He is an android, a highly advanced artificial construct.”

I look at the Hespeth and tilt my head to one side. Then I open my mouth to speak. But Worf looks at me sternly. I do not think he wants me to say anything. He is right. I do not know the right words to say.

“Does it talk?” asks the tall one.

Picard and Worf look at each other.

I open my mouth again. “I am B-4. I am pleased to meet you.” That cannot be a bad thing to say. Everyone says it.

The smelly one nods.

“We must continue our search for the Paxans,” Tinat says. The Hespeth do not appear to be interested in speaking with me anymore.

“I hope you will remain on the Enterprise for a few days,” says Picard. “We would like to speak again later.”

Ress nods. “That would be acceptable.”

“But now, we will return to our rooms,” says Tinat.

When the Hespeth are gone, Picard takes me aside. “What did you think, B-4?”

“The one wearing the mask smelled funny.”

Picard frowns. “We meet many different species in our travels through space. Not all of them share the same standards of hygiene.”

“Ah,” I say. “So the Hespeth do not wash?”

The Captain smiles. “I don’t know. But there is no doubt that they are different from us in many ways. I hope we can learn more about the Hespeth over the next few days.”

“Ah,” I say again. I think Captain Picard might be wise.

“I will see you later, on the Bridge,” says the Captain, and then he leaves.

I think about the Paxans again. It is not strange that Data knew about the Paxans; Data knew so many things. Yet it is unusual that Data was not allowed to tell Picard.

I will return to my quarters now. When the time is 1300 hours, I will go to the Bridge.

#

1100 hours. I am at the easel in my quarters, painting. Data liked to paint too. I have his paintings here.

I dip my paintbrush in black paint. I make a circle on the canvas.

Spot meows, and I scratch behind his ears with my free hand. Spot used to be Data’s cat.

I look around the room. I have all of Data’s things, even his cat.

I dip my brush in red paint and cross out the circle with an X. I make four more X’s on the canvas. I may have Data’s things, but I am not the same as Data. I do not paint like he did. Data’s shapes and patterns were precise; his use of color was exact. He saw lines in his mind and never drew outside them.

Now I mix the blue with the brown, and the yellow with the black. I mix all the colors together. I wave my paintbrush in the air, and flecks of paint fly across the room. Spot runs to the corner. He does not want to get paint on his fur. I make a spiral on the canvas, moving my arm in a wide circle. I am different than Data in other ways too. He always wanted to be human. I only want to be B-4.

The spiral is too big for the canvas, but I continue drawing it anyway. My spiral catches the edge of the easel. Soon, I am painting the air.

I like painting.

The door chimes. “Come,” I say, because that is what Picard and Geordi say when someone is at the door.

The door opens. Two Hespeth enter; the smelly one, Septil, and the tall one, Tinat. The smelly one is holding a phaser. The tall one is holding a pointy metal object. They are not supposed to be here.

I point my paintbrush at them. “Why are you here?” I ask.

The Hespeth do not answer. The smelly one points the phaser at me. “Do not move, android,” he says.

Perhaps I am faster than the smelly one. Maybe I could run and grab the phaser. But what if I am not faster? I do not want to get shot. So I do not move.

The tall one, Tinat, comes closer. I stare into her unblinking orange eyes. Then she sticks the metal object in my ear.

It is a neural probe, I realize, as its trace travels across my neural network. The Hespeth are searching for something. I try to resist, but I find that I cannot move. The probe extracts a copy of Data’s memory about the Paxans. It feels like they have taken a part of me, even though it was Data’s.

Tinat removes the probe from my ear. My arms and legs are stiff. I try to walk, but I fall to the floor. I try to open my mouth and speak, but I cannot.

Then the smelly one turns the phaser on himself, and shoots. He falls to the floor, but does not cry out.

Tinat does not seem surprised. She puts the neural probe into the rim of her boot, and leaves my quarters, ignoring Septil. Spot meows softly from the corner of the room. There is paint on the floor.

After eleven minutes and thirty-three seconds pass, I can move again. I run a self-diagnostic, and I am undamaged. Then I go to the corner and comfort Spot. After that I go to the smelly one, who is even smellier when I get closer. I place my hand over his mouth. He is not breathing. I press on his chest, and feel no heartbeat. I think the smelly one might be dead. I do not remove his mask.

I do not understand why the smelly one shot himself. I must tell the Enterprise crew what happened. I do not have a communicator badge, because I am not one of the crew, but I can access the intercom from my computer terminal. I press the screen.

“Security alert,” I say.

#

It is 1300 hours, but I am not on the Bridge like I should be. Instead, I am in Engineering. My head is open, and there is a cable running from my positronic matrix to a computer terminal. Geordi has attached me to another neural probe, but there is no danger, because Geordi is a friend, and would not harm me.

Picard is here with Geordi, and they both look very serious. I am not sure what to say right now, so I look around the room instead. There are many lights in Engineering, but I find the warp core most interesting. The top half is blue, but the bottom half is red. I see people going up and down the ladders on either side of the warp core. Now I feel the neural probe tunneling into my synapses, searching again.

Finally, Geordi speaks. “B-4 is right, Captain. I’m picking up signs of a prior disruption to his positronic matrix. The Hespeth may have probed his neural net.” Geordi looks at the yellow and blue diagram of the Enterprise on the table near where I am seated. “The trouble is, I don’t know why.”

Picard looks at me. There are lines of concern on his shiny forehead. “B-4,” he says, “how do you feel?”

I do not know much about feelings, but my self-diagnostics tell me that I am functioning within nominal parameters. “I feel fine,” I say.

“B-4, we need to understand what occurred. The Hespeth are accusing you of murder, and they want you deactivated and disassembled. I must learn what they did to you.” Picard leans closer. “And I need to know if you did anything to them.”

I do not say anything at first. I have already told Picard what happened.

Picard comes closer still, until his face is right in front of mine. “B-4,” he says, “do you know what murder is?”

I repeat my story. “The Hespeth came into my quarters–the smelly one and the tall one. They pointed a phaser at me. They accessed my neural network. I could not move. The smelly one shot himself.”

Picard shakes his head. “Do you have any idea why the Hespeth accessed your neural network? Were they looking for something?”

“I do not know,” I reply, even though it is not true. They wanted the memory about the Paxans, because they are looking for the Paxans, and Data knows where the Paxans are. But I cannot tell Picard that. The memory is secret, and Picard must never know.

Geordi turns to Picard. “Captain, B-4’s language capabilities are somewhat limited. Even if he is aware of what happened, he may not be able to fully explain it.”

That is not true. I can explain everything except why the smelly one shot himself.

“But Captain,” Geordi continues, “when B-4 says he didn’t kill Septil, I’m inclined to believe him.”

Picard sighs. “I would like to agree. I do not think B-4 is capable of killing, at least of his own accord. But Data deactivated B-4 initially because he was hijacked by Shinzon. I am worried that he could have been tampered with again.”

Shinzon was the one who buried me on Kolarus so that the Enterprise would find me. He installed a second memory port on the side of my head, and used it to control me so that I would help carry out his plans to harm the Enterprise and the Federation. But that is not what happened this time. The Hespeth are not controlling me. They took a memory, but did nothing else. “Captain,” I say, “I do not wish to be deactivated again.”

Geordi puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, B-4.”

“B-4,” says Picard. “I do not intend to comply with the Hespeth’s demand. I consider you a member of my crew, and they had no right to attack you. I will not allow them to depart the Enterprise until they can explain their actions. But we still need your help to understand what happened, and Septil’s death complicates matters. Is there anything else you recall?”

Perhaps I can tell Picard something, even if I cannot mention the Paxans. “They downloaded a memory,” I say. “One of Data’s memories.”

“About what?” asks Geordi.

“I must not tell. It is a secret.”

Picard’s face grows darker, redder. “I am not sure what you mean. First you say you do not know, and now you maintain that it’s a secret. We need answers, not more questions. What could the Hespeth possibly want with one of Data’s memories? How could they even know that he had it?”

“It is a secret. Data would not want me to tell you.”

“B-4,” says the Captain, “We are trying to help you. I need more information if I am to prove that you are innocent. Data is not here. You must tell me what you know.”

“I do not know why the smelly one killed himself.” There is nothing else I can say.

Picard sighs, and tugs on the front of his shirt. He does that many times each day, and I do not know why. Picard beckons to Geordi, and they walk away from the table, toward the other side of the warp core. They want to talk without me hearing them. I adjust my auditory inputs, because I must hear what they are saying.

“B-4 must be malfunctioning,” says Picard. He sounds upset, or angry. “What does he mean that Data’s memory is a secret?”

“Captain, if Data said he had a secret, would you think that Data was malfunctioning?”

“No. But B-4 is not Data, as he never fails to remind us. You said it yourself. B-4 doesn’t have the same capacity for comprehension as Data did.”

“Ok, so what do you want me to do?”

Picard sighs. “I don’t know. What if you were to deactivate B-4 and examine his positronic matrix? Do you think you could locate the source of the anomaly, or discover which memory was taken?”

“Well, maybe.” Now I hear Geordi sigh. “But with all due respect Captain, we have to treat him as a sentient being, just like we treated Data.”

“Data always behaved rationally. B-4 is simply not behaving in a rational manner.”

“Exactly, Captain! His mind is not Data’s. In many ways, B-4’s mind is that of a child. Children don’t behave like rational adults. We can’t punish B-4 for being who he is.”

“But what if he is lying about the murder as well? What if he did kill Septil?”

“As far as I’m concerned, sir, anything B-4 did would have been in self-defense.”

Picard does not answer immediately. When he does, he sounds less angry. “You are right, of course. I will speak with Tinat again, and confront her with what we now know about the attack on B-4. That may force her hand. At the very least, I will demand that she allow us to perform an autopsy on Septil’s body.”

Geordi nods.

“Do what you can to convince B-4 to reveal more. We will have him taken to Sickbay, where Dr. Crusher and her staff will monitor him. I don’t want to let him go until he tells us the truth.”

Picard leaves Engineering, but Geordi returns to the table, where I am still attached to the neural probe.

“Geordi,” I say, “can I go now?”

“I’m afraid not, B-4.” Geordi detaches me from the probe.

“Why not?”

“We need to protect you from the Hespeth,” Geordi replies.

“I do not understand.”

“Hey, I don’t understand what’s going on either. It would really help us if you could say more about Data’s memory. Why is it a secret?”

“I do not know, Geordi.” This time, I am telling the truth.

“Well, maybe you need to think about it some more. And remember, at the end of the day, it was Data’s secret, not yours. Maybe Data wasn’t allowed to tell, but that doesn’t mean you can’t say anything.”

I tilt my head to the right. What Geordi suggests is interesting. I will have to think about it more.

Two uniformed Enterprise crewmembers enter the room. They have phasers at their sides. “We have been ordered to escort the android to Sickbay,” one of them tells Geordi. They do not acknowledge me.

Geordi closes my head. “Go with them, B-4,” he says.

I look into Geordi’s blue eyes, which are not like regular eyes. “Would you come with me?” I ask.

Geordi puts his hand on my shoulder again. “Yeah, sure,” he says.

We leave Engineering together.

#

2200 hours. I am in Sickbay, and Geordi has been gone since 1500 hours. It is the night shift, so many of the crew are sleeping, but Dr. Beverly Crusher is still here. She has bright orange hair and blue eyes. She is examining the dead Hespeth, Septil. He is near me, covered to his shoulders with a sheet, and he still smells bad. For the first time, I see his face without the mask. It is grey and pale, with a ridge running from the top of the head to the chin. Beverly slowly waves her medical tricorder over the body, and then taps with her fingers on a computer padd.

I did what Geordi asked. I have been running the subroutines that access Data’s memory engram of the Paxans, and I understand the memory better now. Picard must not know about the Paxans because they are dangerous, just like the Hespeth. The Paxans would kill the Enterprise crew if the crew were even aware of their existence. So Picard ordered Data never to tell.

Beverly taps her communicator badge. “Dr. Crusher to Captain Picard.”

The Captain’s voice fills the air. “Picard here.”

“Captain, you had better come to Sickbay.”

“Acknowledged, on my way.”

I am curious to learn what Beverly will tell the Captain, but I wish I could go to my quarters now. Spot will be hungry, and I need to feed him. However, I do not think that Picard will let me go unless I tell him the truth, and the truth is very dangerous. I do not know what to do.

Picard enters.

“Jean-Luc,” Beverly begins.

She is the only one on the Enterprise who calls Picard by his first name. I do not know why.

“I’ve completed the autopsy,” she continues, “and it answers several questions, although it raises many more.” She gestures toward Septil’s body. “Septil was dead long before being shot with the phaser, which, by the way, was only set to stun.”

Picard’s eyebrows narrow. “How is that possible?”

“I’m not sure, yet.” Dr. Crusher shakes her head. “But Captain, this Hespeth is, or was, a Bolian.”

The Bolians have blue faces. The smelly one has a grey face. I do not understand.

Neither does Picard. “What?” he says. “The Bolians are Federation members. Several Bolians serve aboard the Enterprise.”

“This Bolian was part of the Hespeth.”

I see Picard take a deep breath. “Are you suggesting that the Hespeth are like the Borg, and that they assimilated Septil?” he asks. Picard does not like the Borg.

Beverly shakes her head. “No. Septil has no cybernetic components, and I’m not seeing any evidence of a collective mind. It appears that the Hespeth have the capability to inhabit other species.” Beverly puts her tricorder down on a small table. “According to my readings,” she continues, “the Bolian ‘died’ several years ago, possibly of natural causes. Somehow, his corpse was preserved and reanimated.”

Picard looks at Septil’s body. “He was ‘inhabited’ by the Hespeth?”

“Yes, Captain. At this point, I don’t have any better way of explaining it. But I will continue to study the body.” Beverly sits down on a chair. “Now, at least, there are no lifesigns at all–no heartrate or brain activity to speak of.”

Picard moves closer to the body and slowly touches the sheet. “Septil’s body was not perfectly preserved,” he says. “The skin is grey, not blue, which could be a sign of decomposition.”

“And it smelled,” I say. “Dead things smell.”

Picard’s eyes widen for a moment, as if he did not notice I was there before. “Perhaps there was a slight smell,” he says to me.

Beverly nods. “My tricorder indicates that the body has been decomposing, but the process has been slowed to nearly a standstill. Even now, decomposition continues to progress, but at a tiny fraction of the usual rate.”

“What about the other two Hespeth?” asks Picard. “Are they also reanimated corpses?”

“I don’t know,” says Beverly, “and I don’t think they would consent to an examination.”

Picard nods, and turns to me. “B-4, I am sorry that I suspected you. Evidently, Septil was dead when he entered your quarters. You could not have killed him.”

I do not reply, because I do not understand why the Captain apologized.

“But you are right, Beverly,” Picard says, turning again to Dr. Crusher, “we now have more questions. Who are the Hespeth really? How did Septil function? And again, why did he shoot himself?”

Before anyone can answer, Picard’s communicator badge chirps.

“Bridge to Captain Picard.” It is Worf speaking.

“Go ahead,” says the Captain.

“There has been an unauthorized transport from the VIP quarters on Deck 8.”

“The Hespeth,” says Picard.

“Captain,” Worf says, “their ship has just gone to warp.”

“Go to yellow alert,” says Picard. “Hail them.”

All the control panels around the room display additional lights. Some of them are yellow. The Enterprise is now at yellow alert.

“They are not responding to our hails,” says Worf.

“What is their course heading?” asks Picard.

“I am sorry, Captain,” replies Worf. “They must be masking their warp trail. Our sensors do not detect it.”

“Keep looking. Let me know if you find them. I will come to the Bridge shortly. Picard out.”

“Jean-Luc,” says Beverly, “what is going on?”

Picard tugs on his uniform. “The plot thickens and the mystery deepens.” He looks at me. “And I think, B-4, that you have the answer to at least part of this mystery.”

I do not look directly at the Captain. Instead, I follow the tufts of white hair that creep behind his ears and around the back of his bald head. The Hespeth wanted to find the Paxans. Because of Data–because of me–the Hespeth now know where the Paxans are. Perhaps the Hespeth want to harm the Paxans, just like they tried to harm me. But if I tell Picard about the Paxans, I might put the whole crew in danger.

“Well, B-4?” asks the Captain.

“I know where the Hespeth are going,” I say, “but it is very dangerous.”

“We are a Starfleet crew. We are no strangers to risk and danger,” says Picard.

I run a thousand further calculations in a fraction of a second. I have made up my mind. Geordi was right; it was Data’s secret, not mine. Data was ordered not to tell, but I do not have to listen to orders. The danger may be great, but the Captain and the Enterprise crew will know what to do.

“The memory the Hespeth copied is about the Paxans,” I say.

Picard’s eyebrows narrow. “That is the species that the Hespeth are looking for. But I have never heard of the Paxans. How did Data know?”

I let Data in. I focus on letting his memories tell the story, so that it comes out right. “You also met the Paxans, Captain, but you do not remember. On Stardate 44502.7, the Enterprise-D discovered a T-Tauri system with what appeared to be an M-class planet near the Ngame Nebula. When we went to investigate, an unstable wormhole knocked out the crew for thirty seconds, except for Data, and transported the Enterprise .54 parsecs from its former location.”

Picard stares at me for a moment. “I remember,” he says. “It turned out that there was no M-class planet, and that it was merely an anomalous reading. We placed a hazard advisory with Starfleet so that other ships would avoid the phenomenon.”

“Data lied to you.”

The Captain’s eyebrows rise quickly. Dr. Crusher stands up. “Explain,” says the Captain.

I access Data’s memory engram and translate it into words. “There was an M-class planet. It belonged to the Paxans, a highly advanced race of energy beings who do not want anyone to learn of their existence. The wormhole was actually an energy field that rendered biological organisms unconscious and removed ships from the vicinity. Data, as an android, was unaffected. He roused the crew, and the Paxans threatened to destroy the Enterprise. You negotiated to allow the Enterprise a second chance. You ordered Data never to reveal what occurred, and the Paxans wiped your memories of the incident.”

“And that’s why only Data knew about the Paxans,” says Picard slowly, and he begins to walk back and forth.

“Captain, there is more,” I say.

“By all means, B-4, continue,” says Picard, still pacing.

I resume. “An entire day had passed, and you found clues suggesting lost time. You and the crew became suspicious, and returned to the T-Tauri system. The Paxans inhabited the body of Counselor Troi in order to communicate, and threatened to destroy the Enterprise again.”

Picard raises his hand. “You say they inhabited Counselor Troi’s body?”

I nod. “Yes.”

Picard turns to Beverly, who is very still. “I am beginning to see a connection between the Hespeth and the Paxans. They both appear to have the ability to use–or possess–the bodies of others.”

Dr. Crusher nods. “It’s a logical inference. But as I said before, I have just begun to study Septil’s body. I need to run more tests before we can be sure of anything.”

“I am sorry, B-4,” says Picard. “Please continue. Were our memories wiped again?”

I nod, as I continue to access Data’s memory. “You negotiated yet another chance for yourselves, and the Paxans agreed. Once again, you ordered Data never to say anything about the Paxans, and once again, your memories were wiped. This time, however, you made sure that no clues were left behind.”

I am finished now, but I do not know if Picard will believe me. He does not trust me like he trusted Data.

“B-4,” the Captain says, “we will hold a briefing tomorrow in the Observation Lounge, and I request your attendance. I want you to tell the rest of my senior officers what you just told me.”

Perhaps the Captain does believe me. But again, the Captain has not told me a time for the briefing. “There are twenty-four hours in a day,” I remind him.

“0800 hours,” Picard replies, as he walks toward the door with Dr. Crusher behind him.

The Captain also has not told me if I am allowed to leave Sickbay now. “May I go?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” says Picard, as the doors close behind him.

I am left alone in Sickbay with Septil’s body. It still smells.

Why must the crew always attend to matters on the hour or half hour? I wonder. There would be no difference if Picard had the briefing at 0807 hours, or 0813. But I am an android, and it is easy for me to be precise.

Spot is hungry. I will go and feed him.

#

At 0800 hours, I arrive at the Observation Lounge on Deck 3 as the Captain instructed. I have never been here before. I sit down on an orange-brown chair at a long, curved table backlit by a bright white light. There is a glass of water in front of me, but I do not need to drink. There is a padd in front of me, but I am not sure what to use it for. Picard and his senior officers enter one by one and sit at the table. They are all wearing uniforms, and I am still wearing my brown jumpsuit. When Geordi sits down, he smiles at me, but I do not think I belong here.

Picard tells me to repeat Data’s memory about the Paxans. While I explain it again, I count the stars in the large sloped windows and examine the metal grille over the lights below the windows.

When I am done, Picard speaks. “I don’t know how the Hespeth determined that B-4 was aware of the location of the Paxan homeworld. But they have the information now.” Picard places his elbows on the table and makes a triangle with his fingers. “When on the Enterprise, the Hespeth attacked B-4, and then they beamed off the ship and left the area at warp speed. They said the Paxans are their long-lost kin, which may be true, but their hostile actions lead me to believe that their intentions toward the Paxans are not peaceful.”

“And that’s where they must be headed now,” says Geordi.

Picard nods. “Exactly.”

“So Captain,” says Geordi, “do we pursue, now that we know the coordinates for the Paxans’ world? The Enterprise is faster than the Hespeth vessel, and we should be able reach the Paxans before the Hespeth do.”

“That is the matter on which I would like your opinions,” says Picard.

Worf shakes his head. “I do not see how the Hespeth pose any threat to the Paxans. Their ship was small, in addition to being slow, and has limited weaponry.”

“There could be other Hespeth ships out there,” says Dr. Crusher.

“But the Paxans are a technologically superior society,” says Worf. “They can take care of themselves.”

“You raise valid concerns,” says Picard. “And yet, I feel like it is our responsibility to warn the Paxans, as it is our fault they may be in danger. We do not ignore those who may need our help.”

“But there is another problem,” says Geordi. “If what B-4 tells us is correct, we will all be incapacitated upon arrival and the Paxans will tow the Enterprise away from their planet. Even if the Paxans are in trouble, I don’t think there’s anything we can do to help them.”

Picard looks at me. “The energy field will not affect B-4, just as it did not affect Data.”

I look back at the Captain, and open and close my mouth.

“No Captain,” says Worf, growling a little. “I strongly recommend against relying on B-4. His programming is limited, and he is not capable of warning the Paxans.”

Worf is right. I cannot warn the Paxans, because I will not know what to say.

“But B-4 could ask the computer to release compound ADTH into the Enterprise’s air flow system, which will wake the crew,” Dr. Crusher says.

Picard shakes his head. “B-4 must not revive us immediately. Based on what B-4 told us, the Paxans are a highly xenophobic race. If B-4 wakes us without first making contact with the Paxans, they may destroy the Enterprise by the time we are fully awake. No, B-4 must provide a preliminary warning and explain our intentions to the Paxans. Then we can take over once we are revived.”

Picard must think I am like Data again. But although I recited Data’s memory, I am not programmed like he was. I prefer to observe, and to count things. “Captain,” I say, “I cannot warn the Paxans, because I do not know the right words.”

Picard stares at me for a long moment. “I will write down what you must say,” he says, “and you will memorize it.”

I open and close my mouth again. I look around. Worf glowers beneath his bumpy forehead. He does not seem happy, but he is a Klingon, and they are never happy. Then I look at Geordi. He does not say anything, so I look back at the Captain. “I will do my best,” I say.

#

It is 1800 hours. I am on the Bridge, even though it is the wrong time of day, because Captain Picard told me to come. We have arrived at the Paxan homeworld after traveling at maximum warp for seven days, four hours, and twenty-one minutes.

“There is no sign of the Hespeth vessel,” says the officer at the tactical station.

“Good,” says Picard, “I believe we have arrived here before them.”

For the first time, I find that I am more interested in what the officers are discussing than in the dome of lights above me, or the number of stars on the viewscreen.

“Take us in, one quarter impulse,” the Captain says to the officer at the navigation station. Then he rises from his chair and turns to me. “B-4, do you remember what you have to say?”

“Yes,” I reply. The words Picard wrote are embedded in my memory engrams. But when the Paxans respond, I do not know what else to say, because Picard did not give me any other words. I am to wake the crew immediately after delivering my message.

“Do you recall how to contact the Paxans?” Worf asks. “And how to instruct the computer to rouse the crew?”

“Yes,” I say. They have showed me what to do. And Data knows.

“Sensors are picking up energy distortions that may indicate a small, unstable wormhole,” says the officer at the ops station.

“The Paxans’ energy field,” says Picard quietly.

I look at the viewscreen, and see a green glow, shifting and changing shape.

“The energy field is approaching,” says the officer at ops.

The green glow is growing larger.

“Shield penetration at eleven percent,” says an officer from the engineering station.

“Hold our course,” says Picard. “Steady as she goes.”

There is a brilliant flash of light. It passes after 1.4 seconds, but when I look around, everyone else on the Bridge appears to be asleep. Picard’s mouth is hanging open. Worf is slumped over his station. The Captain said it is called biochemical stasis. I find it fascinating. But despite my curiosity, I have a mission to do. Picard and the others are relying on me.

I touch the officer at the ops console. Her body is warm, but she does not move on her own. I gently lower her to the floor and sit down. I examine the controls. Data knows what each of them does. First, I check the Enterprise’s position and velocity. I find that the Enterprise is still moving toward the Paxan homeworld, which is strange, because last time, the Paxans transported the Enterprise away.

I look up at the viewscreen. I can see the planet’s swirling green clouds clearly now. The Enterprise is moving closer quickly, and I do not know why.

But my mission is to contact the Paxans. Once I wake the others, they can explain why the Enterprise is not slowing down. Instead, I open a channel to the planet. I am ready to speak.

Then I see an object at the edge of my field of vision, so I look at the viewscreen again. An orange ball comes out of the Enterprise, heading toward the planet. When it hits the planet, a fiery ripple spreads from its place of contact. Another one follows. Then three more. What are these pretty orange fireballs? Data knows. They are photon torpedoes. The Enterprise is firing them at the planet. Photon torpedoes are dangerous.

I look around the Bridge, but no one moves. There is no time to wake the crew, because the torpedoes may be harming the Paxans. So I cannot rely on the others to explain what is happening. I look at my console. The Paxans have not responded to my hail, and they do not appear to be doing anything about the photon torpedoes either.

“Red alert,” I say, because that is what Picard or Data would say. The dome lights dim, and the blue floor lights glow fiercely. Rays of red light crisscross the Bridge.

But I do not know what else to do. I look at my console. I am not firing the torpedoes, and everyone else on the Enterprise is asleep. So who is firing?

I check my console again. The Enterprise must be firing, because there are no other vessels within sensor range. It cannot be the Hespeth ship.

The Hespeth. They do not like the Paxans. But the Hespeth are no longer on the Enterprise, so how could they be firing?

I look up, and see another shiny torpedo hit the planet.

I focus. Only two out of three Hespeth left the Enterprise. The smelly one is still here. But he is dead, so he cannot be firing.

Yet Beverly said that the smelly one was always dead. He still talked, and used a phaser.

The smelly one must be firing on the Paxans.

“Computer,” I say. “Locate the Hespeth named Septil.”

“He is on the Auxiliary Bridge,” comes the response.

Septil is not in Sickbay anymore. The Auxiliary Bridge is a control center, like the Main Bridge, so Septil must be firing the torpedoes from the Auxiliary Bridge. Now I know why he shot himself. He wanted us to think he was dead, so that he could stay on the Enterprise when the other Hespeth left.

But how can I stop the smelly one? I do not know what to do. I have not been instructed.

The alert klaxon is like a wave. The sound rises and falls. Up and down. Up and down. The red lights flash. On and off. On and off.

I look again at the Captain. His mouth is still open. Picard would know what to do. But he cannot help me, because he is asleep.

Data would also know what to do. But he is only in my neural pathways and memory engrams, so he cannot help me either.

I look up. I see 1,788 stars on the viewscreen. One more torpedo hits the planet. I must do something.

Then I realize that Data can help me. He has the right words to say.

“Computer,” I say, “transfer command authorization to the ops station, authorization Data Gamma-Omega-7-3-4.”

“Affirmative,” says the computer.

My voice is the same as Data’s was, so for today at least, I must try to be him. “Lock down the Auxiliary Bridge,” I say. “Transfer all weapons control to the ops station.”

“Working. Control transferred.”

My fingers fly across the controls, as only an android’s can. I stop the torpedoes from firing. Septil is now trapped on the Auxiliary Bridge, and his controls no longer work.

But I have not yet completed my mission. I still need to warn the Paxans about the Hespeth ship. I open a channel, but again, there is no response.

I look up from my console. A greenish cloud swirls curiously around the edges of the viewscreen. Then the cloud comes through the viewscreen, shrinking as it moves across the Bridge.

The green cloud passes over Worf, and his body shudders. He rises and walks toward me, but his legs are as stiff as self-sealing stem bolts.

“What have you done?” he says. His voice is deep and gruff like Worf’s, but it also sounds far away, like the Hespeth’s voices. I wonder for a moment if the green cloud is Septil, who has escaped the Auxiliary Bridge and inhabited Worf’s body. I get up from my station, but I have no way to defend myself.

Worf continues. “Your vessel attacked our world. You must be destroyed.” I realize that it is not Septil. A Paxan is speaking through Worf’s body, just like the Paxans spoke through Counselor Troi last time.

But how do I respond? None of this was supposed to happen. Picard did not know that the Hespeth would use the Enterprise to attack the Paxans. But Picard gave me a message, so that is what I say. “We are the Federation starship Enterprise. We are aware that you wish your existence to remain secret, but we came to warn you. Members of the Hespeth Consortium have learned the location of your world, and their vessel is approaching. We fear they may wish to harm you.”

“We know of the Hespeth,” says the Worf-Paxan. “But they did not attack our planet. Your vessel did.”

The Captain did not prepare me for this, but I must say something. “We did not want to fire on you. A Hespeth aboard our ship attacked you. I stopped him.”

The Worf-Paxan is expressionless. “He is still dangerous,” he says. “Like me, he has no physical form. I will eliminate him, and then we can discuss the fate of your vessel.”

Worf falls to the floor. The Paxan has left his body. The green cloud escapes through the wall.  If the Paxans destroy the Enterprise, it will be my fault. But what can I do to stop them? I am not capable of communicating with the Paxans. Again, I look around the room at the sleeping officers. I want to wake them, but I do not wish to anger the Paxans, so I must remain on my own for now. I wish that I had received some Starfleet training.

After 7.8 seconds pass, Worf gets up again. The Paxan has returned. “I have disposed of the Hespeth and its body,” the Paxan says. “Are there others?”

At least this question has a simple answer. “Not on the Enterprise,” I say. “But we believe there is a Hespeth ship headed here. We came to warn you about them.”

“The Hespeth were once part of us,” the Paxan says, “but they left, and we hid from them. How did they learn our location? How do you know of us? Those who learn of our existence must be destroyed.”

I do not know what to say, but I must stop the Paxans from destroying the Enterprise. I consider repeating the message Picard gave me, but it would not help. In a fraction of a second, I access hundreds of subroutines, and process thousands of Data’s memory engrams, but I still have no answer. I look at the Worf-Paxan, and I think I see bits of green cloud dancing in his eyes. For a moment, I wish that Data would control me like the Paxan is controlling Worf, because then I would have an answer. “The Hespeth are your enemies,” I say at last, “but we are not. We came to warn you because we want to be your friends.”

The Worf-Paxan considers me intently. “You have been here before,” he says. “You are the android who was unaffected by our stun-field.”

“No,” I reply. “I am not the same android. But I have his memories.”

“Then the plan failed. Your Captain convinced us that the android would conceal our existence. But he was mistaken. You have revealed our secret to the Hespeth, and now we can no longer hide from them. We must destroy your vessel.”

I wish I were wise like Picard. He would know what to say. I think about Data, and how much his positronic mind could do, and how little of it I have begun to understand. Now it is too late. Then I think about the events of the last four days, and how little control I have had over them. “The Hespeth took the memories from me,” I say. “I did not wish to tell.”

“The Hespeth.” The Paxan makes a resonant sound, almost like a sigh. He does not speak again for three seconds. That it is a short time for humans and others, but a very long time for an android. In that time, I see the destruction of the Enterprise and the death of the crew more than one thousand times in my mind. I cannot see any other outcome.

“You are right about one thing,” the Paxan says at last. “You are a limited species, and you could not harm us, even if you wished to. The Hespeth are our real enemies, and if we are to stop them, we can no longer expend our energies expelling every vessel that enters our space. We have isolated ourselves for millennia, but now that we have been discovered, it would serve little purpose to destroy you. You are free to go.”

My mind is clear again, the certainty I saw only moments before, erased. Somehow, I found the right words, even though I do not fully understand how or why.

The Worf-Paxan begins to walk backwards on his stiff legs. “But you must never come back, unless we ask you to,” he says.

The Worf-Paxan has almost reached the turbolift, but I do not follow him. “Indeed, we might ask you to return, someday,” he continues. “Yours is a most remarkable species, worthy, it would seem, of far more chances than we would once have believed that any species could deserve.”

The Worf-Paxan glows green again, and his face is suddenly blank. His body drops to the floor.

What did the Paxan mean that our species was remarkable? Was he referring to humans, or androids? I am not sure, but perhaps he was referring to both.

The green cloud passes by my ear and travels through the viewscreen. I watch it until it diminishes to a faint speck, and even I can no longer find it.

Now I must wake the crew.

#

It is 1300 hours, so I am on the Bridge.

Picard is talking to the computer again. “Captain’s Log, Stardate 57978.8. The Enterprise is returning to the Sidera sector after making first contact, of a sort, with the Paxans. In an unusual turn of events, neither I, nor my officers, met the Paxans or spoke with them. Rather, the negotiations were handled by our android crewmate, B-4. He is to be commended for his quick thinking that saved the Enterprise and her crew. I intend to brief Starfleet about our encounter with the Paxans and the danger posed by the Hespeth, and I will recommend that we avoid further contact with the Paxans for the time being. Although their intense isolationism appears to be fading, we do not wish to provoke them in the early stages of their reintegration into the galactic community.”

While Picard is talking, I still count the stars, observe the lights, and note colors and shapes. I also notice that Worf is shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Perhaps his muscles are sore. He fell twice when the Paxan inhabited his body.

When Picard finishes, he turns to me. He is smiling a little. “It is good to see you on the Bridge again, B-4.”

“I am glad to be here, sir.” Of course, I do not feel any emotion, but it seems like the correct thing to say.

“Perhaps we could invite you to the Bridge more often.”

“I would like that, sir,” I reply.

Picard steps toward me, and lowers his voice a little. “I knew I could count on you, B-4.”

“Thank you, Captain.” I pause. “Data helped. I think he is there to help when I need him.”

Picard raises both his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I reply. I may not be Data, but it is good to have a part of him with me. I realize that I wish to learn more about him. “Teach me who Data was,” I say, “and what he meant to you.”

Picard’s eyes widen a little, but he is still smiling. “Of course,” he says. “Data was unique, and we all have a great many memories about him.”

As do I. Now it is time to try to understand them.