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  For an instant, 110 knew terrible fear. Then, resolutely, he maneuvered so that the spikes inserted into the arm sheathes.

  Information flooded his brain at a speed that even 110 found difficult to process. Frantically, he thought, Slowdown, slow down! To his surprise, the ship obliged. It wanted to tell him everything at once, but it tried to curb its urgency. The information came at a rate that would have killed a human, but, with effort, 110 was able to comprehend it.

  The ship’s designation was Starsearcher 7445, but Jaldark Keniria had taken to calling it Friend. Their people, the Omearans, had just emerged from a bitter and devastating war that had nearly destroyed their planet. Their foe, the Sarimun, were advanced technologically, but lacked the advanced traits of mercy and a desire for peace. The attack had been rebuffed, but the Omearan world had paid a dreadful price.

  The strongest advantage the Omearans had had was the Conjoined, the term used to refer to the linking of Omearans with the Starsearcher vessels. It was a position of tremendous honor among their people. Only one in ten thousand was born who was able to withstand the pairing. Rejections of the cybernetic grafts were the norm. Once a child had been identified as a good candidate, the process began, in infancy. The still-forming skulls were carefully manipulated to eventually house the spherical implants. One by one, strands of cables replaced nerves and muscles. The child was weaned to eat food only occasionally, and to take most of its sustenance from the same fuel that propelled the Starsearchers. It was a union of the most intimate sort.

  Once a child pilot entered adolescence, it was bonded with the ship that it would have for the rest of its life. Such pilots considered themselves blessed, and the ships, which had also been carefully programmed with emotions and their own intelligence, adored their pilots.

  Originally designed for peaceful purposes, the Starsearchers and their pilots had been altered for war. Thousands were lost in the war, and the pilots grew younger and younger, less and less experienced. By the end of the war, only a few pilots were left. They were sent off to various parts of the quadrant, to search for a planet the Omearans could safely colonize.

  Thus it was that Jaldark, all of fifteen in human years, had found herself alone with her malfunctioning implants in the darkness of space. All alone, except for Friend.

  Humans could not possibly understand this, thought 110 in wonder. They were so very separate. Even in their marriages, which he understood brought physical union, they remained two separate entities, with their own personalities and uniqueness. The humanoid races that had developed telepathy might have moved closer to comprehension, but even they could not share information so profoundly. Bynars could; clearly, the union of ship and pilot was closer to that union experienced by the Bynars than anything the crew of the da Vinci could conceive.

  But … you do? Friend’s “voice,” in his mind, quivered along the implants that served for nerves, tingling where 110 was physically impaled upon the ship’s spikes.

  110 let his memories be the answer. It was his turn to flood Friend’s chips with images. Friend was silent as it absorbed the information. 110 thought of Bynaus, of his joining with 111, of the grace and speed and efficiency with which they worked together. He let Friend in on the intimacy of computer linkage with another living being, something he knew Friend understood only too well. Organic being, computer bytes, joined in two beings who were not really two, but one.

  I understand, came the response, but not even in words, not anymore. The Bynar and the sentient ship had surpassed such clumsy methods of communication now that they trusted one another. Steeling himself for the fresh wave of pain, 110 relived 111’s death. The emptiness, the aching, the repeated, increasingly frantic queries to a mind that was already gone. Oh, yes, he knew loss such as Friend had experienced.

  Friend’s agony washed through 110, and the Bynar experienced it as if it were his own. He swam upward, drowning in the linkage, long enough to press the button on the tricorder. He forced his eyes open. He would have to watch Jaldark’s logs for the second time. Through the link they had established, Friend would then also see them. He would see, and believe.

  So much information coursing through his brain, along his artificial nerves! Jaldark’s childish face appeared on the screen, saying words that pierced both vessel and Bynar.

  I love sharing things with Friend … I love it when we linkup and I’ve got the whole ship’s sensors at my hands…. Tobe able to experience so many things that, as an organic being,I’d never otherwise know is indescribable. And he is so close to me when we’re joined. I’ve never known anything like it … He’s really sensitive to my happiness. It’s nice to have things like that matter to someone else so much…. I tried to explain to Friend about how great it feels to walk on soft grass in your bare feet, but he didn’t quite get it, I think….

  She was wrong, came Friend’s thoughts. Through her, I knew. I knew everything….

  It was the most amazing sensation, to be linked with him … I just love Friend so much. He’s the most wonderful ship. I’m so glad I’m bonded with him for the rest of my life…. I guess I’m just the luckiest girl in the universe…. Something’s wrong … Friend can sense it, but I’m not telling him any more than I have to in order to maintain function. I don’t know that we’ll make it in time. I hate lying to him like this.

  110 had thought the ship’s pain difficult to deal with, but the raw rage almost stopped his heart.

  Why did she not tell me? There were things I could have done, systems I could have shut down, that would have made us much more efficient!

  She did not wish to burden you with her fears and pain, 110 replied.

  We were joined! I was supposed to share her fears and pain!

  But Jaldark had been a humanoid, and augmented and technologically enhanced as she was, she remained a humanoid. She didn’t understand that Friend would have been more comforted had she confided in him. Perhaps she would have learned this, as she grew older. But perhaps that wisdom might also have made her less compassionate, and she would not have disabled the ship so that it could not self-destruct.

  I think it’s the implants … they’re failing somehow. I can’t get sustenance from Friend anymore…. I have these terrible headaches. And the arm sheathes … whenever we join, I’m in a lot of pain. So, of course, I come up with excuses not to join as often. Friend hasn’t said anything much, but I know his feelings are hurt. He’s the last person—well, thing—I’d ever want to hurt, and I just hate it that this is happening!

  The ship could not form coherent thoughts anymore, but 110 did not need it to. For the first time since 111’s death, he let his own grief surface. In the bonding, they were more than two. Now that she was dead, 110 felt as though he was less than one. She had taken so much of him with her when she died.

  I don’t think I have much longer. The pain is so bad I can hardly stand it. I think I’m going to die. But I can handle that. It’s Friend I’m worried about. He’s supposed to autodestruct if anything happens to me. They said Starsearchers aren’t designed to function on their own. They told us that the ships need an Omearan mind to link with to make ethical decisions. They … could be dangerous without a pilot.But I don’t believe that. I don’t think Friend would hurt anybody, unless they hurt him first.

  Friend had been lost in his own pain, but now 110 felt the Starsearcher’s attention focus fully on the dying Jaldark’s words. 110 wanted to linger in his own bitter-sweet misery, but was pulled along with Friend. He, too, really began to listen.

  I can’t kill Friend, I just can’t. That would be the most selfish act I think I could possibly perform. I know I’m supposed to, but I won’t do it. I won’t. I’ve deactivated the autodestruct mechanism. Friend won’t be able to reengage it on his own. He’s going to live, even if … even if I don’t.That’s what friends do, isn’t it? They help each other. If anybody finds this, please take care of Friend. Send him home.The coordinates are in the computer. Help him find a new pi
lot. He’s going to be so lost without … me to take care … Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I love him. Tell him it will be all right. He’s just got to be brave.

  Friend’s shock now felt as strong as his suffering. That is against all the rules. Jaldark was the reason I was unable to self-destruct? She did it deliberately? Why, why? We were supposed to die together!

  110’s narrow chest hitched. So were Bynars. Linked unto death, it was not at all uncommon, nor frowned upon, for a remaining Bynar to die upon losing a partner. Sometimes, more often than not, such a death was chosen, self-inflicted. It was the only way in 110’s culture to avoid being forced to take another mate. It was the only way to remain Bynar.

  But 110 did not want to take another mate. For a while, he thought, as Friend had, that he wanted to die. For what was life without 111, without his friend and mate and ultimate companion, who lived in his affections and mind and soul? But there had been no chance for suicide, and, to 110’s own astonishment, his body refused to simply quit on its own. There had been the computer to help, and the Pevvni to fight, and then Friend’s plight to attend to.

  While 110 was sorting through this, Jaldark quietly died on the screen. He expected the ship to lose control utterly, and braced himself for the throes that would surely come.

  Instead, Friend remained strangely still. 110 realized that the ship was focusing on him and his thoughts.

  You did not die.

  No, 110 replied. I kept living. I kept working.

  For what reason? Your loss was as great as mine. Why did you live?

  For a long moment, 110 could not form an answer to that, because he truly did not know. Finally, the answer came, and with it, a sudden easing of the pain that had been his constant companion since that terrible moment.

  Because 111 wished me to continue.

  As Jaldark wished me to continue, thought Friend. 110 felt the ship’s own pain subsiding ever so slightly. But why? Starsearchers cannot function on their own. We need a pilot. We could be dangerous. I was dangerous. I destroyed buildings and fired upon your ship. I could have killed you.I was not constructed to attack, only to defend.

  Physical pain began to penetrate 110’s consciousness, distracting him from the thoughts he was only now beginning to process. The implants. Dr. Lense had warned him about this. Because he was a Bynar, a member of a race that already had a great deal of integration with computers, he could tolerate the implants to a certain degree. A normal human could not. But he was not Omearan, and the implants had not been part of his body since infancy; it was starting to reject them. Once the pain began to increase, Lense had said, he only had a matter of moments before he would go into shock.

  Faced with dying like the unfortunate Jaldark, in the same position, 110 realized that he very much wanted to live.

  I can help you, sent Friend, with a sudden sense of urgency. I can enable you to make the transition. You could help me by becoming my new pilot. You understand. And … I could help you, too, because I understand.

  The pain in his head increased. 110 wondered if all Starsearchers were this compassionate. He understood now why destroying Friend had been anathema to Jaldark. And, oh, it was appealing, wasn’t it? It was the perfect solution. He would not be alone, and yet he would not dishonor the memory of all he had shared with 111 by so quickly selecting another mate. And poor Friend desperately needed him. He was right. They could help one another. Heal one another.

  It was ideal. And it was too easy.

  Friend sensed his rejection before 110 even had a chance to phrase it. He hurried to explain his reasoning.

  Jaldark said you had to be brave. She said everyone thought that the Starsearchers couldn’t function without a pilot. But you proved them wrong. Look at you right now, interfacing with a completely alien species. You’re making ethical judgements. You can be an individual. As … as I can be. If we are both brave enough.

  But what is a ship without a pilot? I serve no useful purpose.

  The pain was increasing. Morbidly, he wondered if the same white-hot agony that was racking his body was what Jaldark had undergone. He had to transport out and have the implants removed before they caused permanent damage. But he didn’t want to leave, not yet. 110 willed himself to hang on for just a little while longer.

  That is a false conclusion, arrived at by incorrectly analyzing the data. You could help to complete the mission upon which you and Jaldark had embarked. If you will let the Federation help you, they can assist your people in searching for an undeveloped world to colonize.

  In reply, 110 received such a violent jolt of fear and loathing that he almost passed out from the force of it. Other races hate us! They tried to kill us!

  But I don’t hate you, 110 thought. The Omearans have encountered only a few other alien races. There are thousands in this quadrant alone, and every race is different. Many of them have joined the United Federation of Planets, for their mutual benefit. I know my captain wants to assist you, and—once he knows what it is you are seeking—help the Omearansas well. You must be able to sense my sincerity.

  Yes. The ship’s reply was slow, halting. 110 supposed he couldn’t blame Friend for his suspicions. But the pain was worsening. He needed a decision now.

  Friend, the implants are hurting me. I must leave you.

  No, please, please stay, just a while longer….

  I cannot. While it is right and appropriate for us to mourn our lost bondmates, we must continue. Alone. We have tasks to perform, things that only we can do. Things that our bondmates would want us to do.

  I … I understand. I will do what Jaldark wanted me to.I will be brave.

  Right before the darkness claimed him, 110 knew in his heart that both 111 and Jaldark would be proud of their decisions.

  “Welcome back,” came the kind voice of Emmett.

  110 blinked. “You beamed me out in time,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “And only just,” came Captain Gold’s booming voice. His face moved into 110’s line of vision. “What were you thinking? You were supposed to come back the minute the implants started to hurt. You could have died down there!”

  110 smiled softly. No. Friend would not have let him. None of his friends would have let him die. Another time, another place, yes—one day, he would die.

  But it would not be today.

  “So,” said Gold, his anger diminishing, “what happened with the little Bynar and the great big ship?”

  “What is Friend doing now?” countered 110.

  “Sitting quietly in space. It wants to make sure you’re all right.”

  “He will be,” said Lense. “I would recommend you take it easy for a while, though, 110. No more joining with strange ships. In fact, you should leave the computers alone for at least a day.”

  “The Enterprise has arrived,” Gold said. “They came, even though I called off the alert. They figured, they were this close, they might as well pick up Geordi and you, and take you back to Starbase 505.”

  “No.” The firmness of 110’s reply surprised everyone. “I will not go to Starbase 505. I will not rejoin.”

  “What?” Gold appeared stunned. “But—you have to. You’re a Bynar.”

  “I am,” agreed 110, “but I am also myself. An individual. Captain, my bond with 111 was profoundly deep. The severance of that bond was dreadful. I know what my customs demand, but I do not wish to obey them. I do not want to bond with anyone, at least, not yet. That is why I did not bond with the ship.”

  “What?” Gold said again. 110 felt a faint flush of humor. He was certainly startling his captain with these revelations. “The ship tried to force you to bond with it? Be its new pilot?”

  “Force? No. Friend would not force anything on anyone. He and the people who built him are very peaceful people, Captain. But the offer was made, and I almost accepted.” He felt a sudden pang of wistfulness. It would have been sweet, to have bonded again, to feel the comforting presence of that Other who was y
et one’s self. But this solitary state had lessons to teach, lessons 110 knew he was ready to embrace, hard though they might be.

  “I will remain here on the da Vinci, if you will have me. If not, I am certain that Bynaus would be happy to provide you with another joined pair. They would certainly be more efficient than a solitary Bynar.”

  “Your contribution is unique, solo man,” said Gold warmly. “As are you.”

  110 cocked his huge, round head. “Soloman? Is that an Earth term for one who is unmated?”

  Gold chuckled. “Not an official term, no.”

  110 considered for a moment. If he refused to rebond, he would not be permitted to use his designation of 110 anymore. He needed a new designation—a name, as the humans called it.

  “Soloman,” 110 said softly, liking how the awkward words sounded on his tongue. “May I then take the name Soloman? I will need one, now that I am unbonded.”

  “Soloman it is,” said Gold. “Now, what’s up with Friend?”

  As best he could, utilizing the clumsy and inefficient method of the spoken word, the newly dubbed Soloman tried to convey what had transpired. He was frustrated at his lack of ability to convey the nuances, the intimacy of the joining with the ship, but Gold was a wise human. He seemed to understand what could not be spoken, only sensed. He listened intently, his dark eyes intense under his bushy brows.

  “Do you think Friend trusts us?” he asked.

  “He has bonded with me, and I trust you. Therefore, he must trust you also.”

  Gold nodded. He rose, and patted Soloman’s leg. “Let me see what I can do.”

  “Hello, Jean-Luc, you old son of a gun. Late as usual. You missed all the excitement.”

  The normally formal visage of Captain Jean-Luc Picard broke into a smile. Gomez didn’t think she’d ever seen that before, and, for a moment, was mildly startled to hear Gold speaking to Picard in such a fashion. But Picard seemed unoffended; in fact, he appeared pleased.