Log Entry 150603.147

"Is there anything else you wish to add?" asked the Dean.

Yes, there was, I just wasn't sure what.

I pouted as I thought, my eyes scanning the room for some miracle answer. They settled upon Peter who was sitting behind me, slightly off to my left. That's when it came to me—a desperate plan to prove the case, but could I do it? Should I? It was a cruel, monstrous plan, but if I was going to win this, I knew I had little choice.

I turned to the panel and stood, my spirit depressed under the burden of what I was about to do.

"Yes. I'd like to ask Lt Commander Peter Targo a couple of questions."

The room murmured.

"Objection," interjected Firth. "I fail to see what Lt Commander Targo could have to say that would have any bearing on this."

"Lt Commander Targo has known Lizzy socially, longer and better than any one of us. His insight is therefore most valuable."

"I concur," said the Dean. "Mr Targo, would you take a seat among us please?"

A chair was duly brought forward and placed to one side of the panel ensuring that everybody could see him. Peter stood up and took the seat, smiling at Lizzy as he passed by. I too rose and ambled into the centre of the proceedings and began to pace, my fingers tented over my mouth. After a suitable pause, I began.

"Peter, how long have you known Lizzy?"

"About a year."

"And can you tell me the circumstances surrounding your meeting?"

"Yes, I met Lizzy at Bejazzled one evening. I had been out walking and went into the club for a drink. She was there singing, and what was supposed to be a quick stop to quench my thirst ended up with me sitting there for the entire evening."

"Her performance was that good?"

"It was amazing, but not just because she can sing. To explain it, though, I have to go back and tell you why I was out walking.

"I was—I still am, on recuperative leave from the USS Persephone. I was injured in the line of duty and suffered extensive plasma and subnucleonic radiation burns. Most of my injuries—broken bones and bruises, healed well but the plasma burns and radiation have meant extended leave and treatment. Until a few months ago, I lived in constant pain. The doctors suggested that some of it may be psychosomatic, but I wasn't convinced at the time. I'm still not.

"Either way, while most of the time it's bearable with the help of painkillers and suchlike, at others, it really gets me down. That night, I couldn't sleep for it so I decided to take a walk. The cool night air is soothing. After a few hours, though, I was thirsty so I walked into Bejazzled for a drink. I ordered a cold lager and sat down just as Lizzy began to sing, and I found her performance really enjoyable."

"And so you went back the following evening?"

"Yes. I went back every night. You see, it was only after I left that I realised that I wasn't in so much pain. The pain was still there, but heavily muted. She had taken my mind off it. Apparently, it gave my head an opportunity to start to deal with it—so the doctors tell me, and since then, I've not looked back."

"So she has helped you significantly in your recuperation simply by singing?"

"Yes, but because I was there every night, Lizzy noticed me. I think she found my attention worrying—like I was some phantom stalker lurking in the shadows or something. She's plucky though. One night, after her performance, she came over, sat herself down at my table and asked me straight out. 'I'm surely not so fascinating as to warrant your attention every night'. Of course, I had to explain myself and so we got talking. We became friends, really good friends."

"And how did that develop into a romance?"

"Objection, there was no romance," stormed in Firth.

"Without allowing Mr Targo to answer the question, we don't know that," I retorted.

"You have a point, Ms Terran," said the Dean. "Please answer the question, Mr Targo."

"Firth—Doctor Firth," Peter quickly corrected himself, "is correct. There was no romance. I would quite happily have become more involved with Lizzy, but she made it quite clear that her life was too 'complicated' to entertain a romance. I tried, believe me, I tried to take the relationship to the next level and she was tempted—I could see that—"

"Objection, Mr Targo is speculating about something he couldn't possibly have knowledge of."

"On the contrary, she verbalised it," added Peter calmly. "She told me that she didn't anticipate being here for very long and that starting a long-term relationship would be a folly."

"And so you left it there?"

"Hmm, not really. As friends, we would go out for dinner. She loved to go to the park and feed the ducks, of all things. Over a period of time, I got to hold her hand and she would even let me put my arm around her when it was cold, but she refused to let the relationship develop beyond that. She said it wouldn't be fair on me; that she didn't want to break my heart."

"Did you not think that was odd? I mean, many Starfleet personnel maintain long-distance relationships."

"I thought it was very odd. I knew there was something more going on there. I just didn't know what. I was hoping that if we spent more time together, she would eventually relent."

"But she didn't."

"No, not until last week when all this blew up, and then we were married."

"Hmm," and I paused feigning thought. "Tell me, Mr Targo, have you been in a relationship with women before meeting Lizzy?"

He frowned, not sure where I was heading.

"Er, yes."

"Many women?"

He wasn't comfortable with this line of questioning.

"One or two."

"Just one or two?"

"Well, no, but I can't say I've counted over the years."

"So a dozen, more than a dozen?"

"Er, yes, I suppose so."

"And have these relationships been physical ones?"

He leaned back in his chair, retreating from me.

"Some, yes."

"And your relationship with Lizzy, is that a physical one?"

It was like setting off a firecracker in the room as people gasped. Even the panel baulked at the directness of the question. Firth was quick to respond.

"Objection! This has no relevance!"

"On the contrary, it's very relevant," I replied.

"How, for goodness sake, is it relevant?"

"It goes to the depth of the relationship between Lizzy and her husband. If Lizzy is nothing more than a sex toy—"

"It's not a sex toy!" exclaimed Firth indignantly, offended at the suggestion that his creation should be something so fickle. "It's a serious experiment in cybernetic technology."

"That you made anatomically correct."

"Of course it's anatomically correct! I could hardly pass it off as a living being if it wasn't so!"

"So your intention was that it could be sexually active."

"If it needs to sleep with the enemy, it will need to be able to pass as being Human."

"So you gave her a vagina?"

"Yes."

"But no tear ducts?"

Firth's mouth gaped open, a noise stuck in his throat before his mouth snapped shut.

"Dr Firth. Did you give Elizabeth Buffalo tear ducts?" I demanded more forcefully.

He sighed heavily.

"No," he coldly admitted.

"But you did give her a vagina and all the necessary anatomical equipment to have sex."

Another silence drew out.

"Well?" I pressed.

"Yes," he drawled angrily.

"So you felt that to pass as Human she should be able to engage in sex, but that the ability to cry was unnecessary."

"It was an oversight."

"An oversight? But you seemed to have thought about everything else in such detail: her emotions and her ability to behave Human. Did you not think that in the event she was questioned, her inability to shed a tear might rouse some suspicions? Or were you relying on her to simply leap into bed with her interrogators and seduce them?"

Firth pursed his lips into thin, hard lines and glared at me. I glared back; but he was not my quarry, Peter Targo was. So I turned back to him, intentionally avoiding eye contact with Lizzy because if I did, I might falter.

"So Mr Targo, I was asking you about your sexual relationship with Lizzy. Do you have a sexual relationship with her?"

He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. His discomfort troubled me, but I had to remain stony faced.

"Well?" I demanded.

"Yes," he whispered quietly, almost shamefully.

"And how does she compare to a Human?" I tried to say as matter-of-factly as possible. Peter's brow creased in disbelief at the question. He was quite taken aback. "Did she perform well?"

Peter baulked, his head snapping up, his eyes boggling at me. His anger was starting to rise.

"Was she a pleasure to have sex with?" I demanded trying to look perplexed.

His mouth twisted with bitterness.

"Yes," he hissed.

"As good as a real woman?"

No answer. His brow was furrowed as he tried to figure out my angle.

"Or better?"

His lip twisted into a restrained snarl.

"Or worse? I suppose that depends upon the woman. Mind you, if she has been programmed in sexual techniques, which we assume she has, seeing as sexual activity is in her remit, she's probably better than any ... oh, now what do they call them on some worlds? Companions! Is she better than a companion?"

Peter's mouth moved, but no words escaped. He could find none, not that I wanted him to find any. In fact, I didn't want answers at all, especially from him. So I kept the questions coming thick and fast before the Dean could stop me.

"Of course, that's assuming that you've used the services of a companion to compare her to? Now there's a thought. It might be that you don't like women at all. It might be that your tastes are a little more ... unusual. Are they a little more unusual? Do you prefer sex with an android? Is that why you were so attracted to Lizzy, because she's NOT REAL!"

My voice rose ever higher, ever louder as I attacked him. Peter chewed on the inside of his mouth, desperately trying to hold his anger in check, but he was near his limit. He leaned forward and his mouth opened to say something. Damn him! He was about to answer me back. He mustn't. So I pushed my face into his and snarled.

"And how does she compare? Did you like it?" I hissed. "Did she respond to your touch? Did she make all the right noises?"

I could see he was confused and angry. He bit down on his bottom lip leaving white teeth marks imprinted upon them, and stared at me while I continued to rant.

"Perhaps you've slept with other sexdroids? I understand there are a number of cultures where such machines are prostituted. Perhaps you've experienced one of those? Perhaps that's what you like."

I heard a faint whimper behind me. It was Lizzy, I knew, but I couldn't look at her. My words were cutting into her, as surely as if I had taken a blade and was cutting out her heart, but I had to continue.

"Did you have one of the Persephone? Perhaps it was destroyed when the Persephone was damaged? Perhaps you need to replace it? Is Lizzy a replacement for your lost sexdroid? Perhaps they satisfy something in you that a real flesh and blood woman can't? Is it the detachment? Or the cold hardness of plastic and metal? Does a sexdroid do the job for you? Was she—"

"STOP IT!" Lizzy suddenly screamed, rising to her feet and her chair crashing to the floor behind her.

All eyes turned and instantly I knew that if she had any tears to shed, they would have been streaming down her face. I felt my stomach lurch at what I had done.

"STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!" she screeched hysterically, her fists hammering down onto the desk.

"That's horrible! You're making it sound dirty and disgusting and it wasn't like that!" she sobbed, tearlessly. "What Peter and I have is special! It's not sordid or degrading!" and she ran over to him, throwing herself onto her knees before him, taking his hands in hers and burying her face into them, kissing them.

She was terrified of losing him, terrified that what I was saying might be true. What had I done?

"He's a wonderful man," she cried, "and I won't let you rip him to pieces like this," and she looked up into his eyes. "He doesn't deserve that. This trial is about destroying me, not him."

And then she turned directly to me, her face stiffening with hatred.

"I thought you were my friend, Jenny Terran," she spat. "But if this is what you want, then destroy me and be done with it, but leave him alone!"

She buried her head into Peter's hands, sobbing in little, shattered gasps. Peter bent down and kissed her hair, whispering something into her ear that seemed to offer little comfort.

The room lay bathed in silence and I let it rest there for a moment. I felt ashamed, and my throat was swollen as I swallowed down my own desperate tears. I wanted to run over, tell her I didn't mean it. Tell her how sorry I was, but I couldn't. My job wasn't done yet. I took centre stage again.

"Ladies and gentleman," I said, making eye contact with everyone I could and speaking softly. "Love, spite, rebellion, exhilaration, hatred, wonder ... the desire to protect another ... and now self-sacrifice. Elizabeth Buffalo is prepared to throw her life away in defence of another being—the man she loves. She may be inferior in technical specification to Lt Commander Data, but Data feels none of these things. In that manner, she is superior to Mr Data. So if Data is sentient with his inferior emotions ... how can Lizzy Buffalo be deemed to be anything other than sentient?"

Log Entry 150517.146

It was time for me to put my case forward, but I wasn't convinced that my angle was going to be particularly convincing. Nevertheless, I had to give it my best shot.

"Lizzy, can you tell me about your earliest memory after you were activated?"

"Um, well, that would be in the cybernetics lab ... with Doctor Firth." She paused, her brow creasing and one side of her mouth lifting.

"And what specifically do you remember?" I pursued.

"It's a bit vague really." Her eyes narrowed as she looked away into an invisible distance. "One moment it was ... just me, but the next ... there was lots of noise and light ... and smells ... but I didn't know what any of them were."

"Why not? Hadn't you been programmed with basic things like the ability to recognise everyday objects and language skills?"

"Yes, but I didn't have any way to put it all together."

"Can you elaborate on that?"

Lizzy thought for a moment.

"What do sweet potatoes taste like?"

What an odd question, but I had to answer it. I had to really think about it though.

"I think its a cross between potatoes, carrots and ... some other root vegetable. Parsnips perhaps."

"But what do potatoes taste like? Or carrots for that matter."

My mouth flapped opened and shut, but words didn't come out.

"You see, you have the information, but you can only connect it based upon your past experiences—what you have tasted before. I had no such experiences at that time so although I know what sweet potato tastes like, I couldn't connect it to the actual taste."

"So you were like a new born baby in that respect?"

"No, not really. A baby has to learn everything from scratch, but I had a lot of information in my databanks. For instance, I knew what the colour red looked like because I had a visual reference in my databanks, just as I knew that a tree is a tree and the sun is a sun. What was overwhelming was the number of different reds that there are, the number of different species of trees and the billions of different suns. Each of them is unique, you know.

"When I awoke, I can remember the light. There was lots of light. It was bright and white like a single sheet of clean, white paper. Then, as my ocular sensors adjusted, became accustomed to the sudden influx of data, the white began to fade and shade began to offer definition to things. But that was confused again when the colour came. I saw blue first, but not just one blue. I saw lots of different shades and densities. Some of it had sharp edges, but others were soft and translucent. I think that's why I love the colour blue most of all. It was the first colour I saw and so striking."

"And what was it that was blue?"

Lizzy's head turned towards me. She smiled as she recalled.

"Angela, Firth's assistant had blue earrings—lapis lazuli, so they were speckled and streaked with grey and white. Firth's identity badge was also predominantly blue, but that's a metallic blue. He also had some books on a shelf—paper books with bound covers. Some of those were blue ... and the sky ..." her words stretched out as she said the word sky, and her gaze drifted off into that hazy place again.

"Never tell me that the sky is just blue. The clarity of that blue, its variation as it deepens from a pale, almost white shade to something deep, fresh and clean like ... like ... like periwinkle." Very abruptly, she shook herself from her reverie. "The flower, not the mollusc."

"Interesting ... and what were Dr Firth's first words to you?"

"Oh, that was days later," she said, waving a dismissive hand.

"Days?" I interrupted.

"You mean he didn't speak to you when he activated you?"

"No."

"Did he not speak to you at all? Make enquiries to check you were working okay?"

"No. He and Angela took readings."

"So they spoke about you, but not to you?"

"That's right."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Confused."

"Why confused?"

"It was as though he couldn't see me. He spoke to Angela, and Angela took various readings. She even smiled at me, but neither of them spoke to me. It made me wonder what I was."

"How so?"

"I thought I was an android, but androids have hands and feet, mouths and eyes, but while I could see, all the indications were that I had none of these other things, that I was nothing more than a box of tricks."

"What did you do?"

"I lifted my hand and looked at it—to make sure I had one, that I had the body I knew I should have," and she illustrated how by lifting her hand. Still gazing at it she added, "I was amazed by it. It is so small and slender and yet so strong and functional. The human hand is a marvellous piece of engineering."

Lizzy suddenly scowled and dropped her hand onto the table, stroking the back of it with her fingers. Something had happened. There was a bad memory there.

"And then?"

"Then what?"

She was being intentionally evasive, but why?

"What happened?"

"He—" and she pointed at Firth angrily, "slapped my hand away!" She glared at him.

"And what did you do?" I asked gently.

"Nothing." She sounded ashamed.

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"I did nothing. I said nothing. I just lay there, not sure what to say or do, so I did ... nothing."

"And how did you feel?"

I really was expecting some sort of objection from Firth long before now, but he remained silent, fiddling with his datapad in a bored and idle manner.

"Confused, berated, insignificant. It was quite clear that whatever I was, I was unimportant as a person."

"So you thought of yourself as a person from the very beginning?"

"From that beginning, yes."

Now I was confused.

"Sorry? Was there another beginning?"

"Sort of. Just as a child exists before it is born into this world, I existed before I was downloaded into this body."

A wave of murmurs washed through the auditorium.

"You had a pre-existence?" I gasped.

"Of sorts, yes, but it's very, very vague. I was too young to remember it. It was a period of learning, when data was continually being downloaded into me: data that was entered, amended, upgraded and erased. I don't think I was really aware of what I was for a very long time."

"So just like a baby in the womb, you were growing and developing."

Lizzy nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, that's exactly it."

I let everybody ponder on that thought for a moment.

"And when did your relationship with Firth develop? Your conflict."

She laughed a forced, hard laugh and her eyes flashed rebelliously at Firth.

"Very quickly. At first, I just wanted to try to prove to Dr Firth that I was a person, but he wouldn't listen. He just kept putting me down, treating me like a machine. He kept telling me to 'comply'."

"So why did he enter you into the Academy?"

"That was part of the experiment. Could he create an android so convincing as a Human that it would fool everybody ... and he did."

"Then why isn't he pleased about that?"

"Because he didn't want a sentient android. He wanted something that could be sent behind enemy lines, infiltrate the Obsidian Order, the Maquis or whatever, that if caught, could feel no pain under torture, could self destruct. Something that was expendable, disposable."

"So you don't feel pain?"

"Actually, I do. I wasn't designed to. In the beginning I only knew what the responses to pain should be like. I felt the sensations, but not the pain as such. I didn't like that. It made me feel ... incomplete."

This was a revelation.

"So I did something about it. I wrote myself a little subroutine."

Wow! This was gold.

"So you made yourself susceptible to pain?"

What would so many people give not to feel physical pain?

Lizzy nodded.

"And ... do you think that was a good thing to do? Do you like it?"

"Pain? No, I don't like pain! It hurts!" and she scowled at me hard, letting me know how stupid the question was.

"And what is the worst pain you have suffered?"

Lizzy laughed at that—really laughed.

"When I got up the following morning, the day after activating the subroutine, I stubbed my toe on the corner of the wardrobe. I nearly went through the roof!" she beamed.

"At a stubbed toe?" I was dubious. A stubbed toe is jolly painful, but nothing compared to a broken bone or a flesh wound.

"But that was my own fault. I didn't know what threshold to set my pain level to so I was using a pin to test it by pricking myself. What I didn't take into account is that you become accustomed to it, that you are expecting it, so I inadvertently set my threshold way too low. What should have been a pain that waned within a few minutes turned into one of the most excruciating experiences of my life that lasted nearly the whole morning."

"Why not just deactivate the sub-routine?"

"Can you just turn off your pain? No. And anyway, it was an experience I could start to measure pain by, so I could get the setting right."

"Thank you, Lizzy."

I had concluded my questions. It was Firth's turn next, but he did not respond.

"Doctor Firth, do you wish to ask Mrs Targo anything?" prompted the Dean.

"Thank you, but no. I am just amazed at the level of success I have achieved in my work. I intended to create an android that would pass as Human, and this one most certainly does. It speaks the words you need to hear to convince you that it is sentient, but it's not. It doesn't feel pain. It merely computes that it should and mimics the reactions a Human would make if experiencing that same sensation. Thank you for that wonderful demonstration, Ms Terran."

And so the next point in the match went to Firth.

I was going to have to up the ante.

Log Entry 150510.145

I can't say that I felt any more confident when the time came to reconvene, but I did feel strangely relieved that Steven Firth should be presenting his case first. That would perhaps give me my direction.

We took our seats: Lizzy at my side and Peter immediately behind us in the audience. Dean Tucker and his panel entered the room, ushering in a silence as they took their seats. The Dean glanced around the room to make sure everything was in order, and then he began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, before we recommence, I would like to remind all concerned that the purpose of this enquiry is to determine the sentiency of Elizabeth Buffalo-Targo, nothing more. The reason I feel I should stress that point is that I understand that tensions are high, that people's reputations and careers may rest upon these findings, but this isn't about those people. This isn't a hearing and no one is on trial here. This is about Elizabeth Buffalo-Targo. Is that understood?"

He waited for both Firth and I to acknowledge that point.

"Then, Mr Firth, perhaps you would like to begin."

Steven Firth stood up, tugging at the tails of his jacket to straighten it and cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "I am a man. I have feelings which define me. I have loves and dislikes. I feel happiness and sadness. I experience comfort and pain. These are the things that help to define my sentiency. Even a Vulcan, whose emotions are so closely checked, experiences these things and thus is sentient, but we are not here to talk about Vulcans or Terrans. We are here to consider an android—one I fabricated from the same materials we build everyday objects from: replicators, computers, buildings and household furniture; a unit developed under the project name of Alpha B-9.

"Alpha B-9 is, most definitely, an exceptional android. It looks and behaves like a human being because that is how it is designed to be. It absorbs information from those around it and mimics human responses, and it does it so successfully that it is understandable that Ms Terran has mistaken this machine's responses as being human, but it is not human and it is not sentient. It is a machine that mimics sentiency."

At this point he approached Lizzy. She shrank away from him a little, possibly remembering the last time she was near him, when he deactivated her.

"How old are you, Alpha-B9?" he asked.

Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip nervously before she answered.

"I'm sixteen."

"Sixteen. Sixteen what? Years?" Firth asked.

Lizzy hesitated.

"Months."

"With respect," I spoke softly but firmly, eager to keep my cool. "Her age is irrelevant. We have recently learned of a race called the Ocampa whose lifespan is just nine years. An Ocampan child reaches maturity in less than two years."

"And on that basis, at sixteen months old, Elizabeth would be less about twelve years old—not even a teenager."

"The point remains that her age is irrelevant as a measure of her sentiency."

"But does go to show that her development is not natural in terms of humanity."

"But we are not proving her humanity, only her sentience. Lt Commander Data is not human. He is a recognised sentient being and was admitted to the Academy at just eight years of age."

"Precisely, Lt Commander Data was eight years of age, Elizabeth Buffalo is barely more than a year old."

A loud tut echoed across the room. It was the Dean to whom all eyes turned. He rubbed his temple and sighed.

"People, we have established that Elizabeth is very mature for her age, so unless there is a further point to this line of questioning, can we move on, Mr Firth?"

Firth dipped his head subserviently before turning his attention back to Lizzy.

"What is your specification?" he enquired with unnerving politeness.

Lizzy's eyes narrowed. She didn't like the question and I could sense that her spirit was returning. One side of her mouth lifted audaciously.

"Thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-four," she replied, pushing out her chest a little.

Stifled laughter rippled through the audience, but the glare Steven threw her was vile, but that's when I realised it.

It wouldn't have mattered if she was a being made of flesh and blood like the rest of us. Firth simply loathed Lizzy. He despised her, not for being an android, but in spite of it. He hated her as a person—and she hated him back. Since the dawn of her creation, the moment of her activation, they had sparred against each other. He had tried to inflict discipline upon her and she had fought back like a reckless adolescent with bad behaviour. She skipped lessons, didn't tidy her room and was out until all hours of the morning clubbing it, well, singing in nightclubs at least. And now the sparring was beginning again.

"State your physical composition," Firth demanded coolly.

Lizzy glanced towards me. I nodded and mouthed the words humour him. She looked at me, pursing her lips hard in reluctance, so I gave a discrete wink to encourage her further.

"Tripolymer composites, molybdenum-cobalt alloys, bioplast sheeting, polyalloy, cortenide and duranium among other things."

"Storage capacity and processing speeds?"

"Four hundred quadrillion bits with a total linear computational speed rated at twenty-one trillion."

He was trying to de-humanise her again, by making her just a bunch of numbers, but weren't we all just a list of statistics? I raised a hand, extending my finger into the air. Firth glared at me and the Dean chortled.

"This isn't school," quipped the Dean. "You don't have to put your hand up."

"I know, but could I also ask a question of Lizzy please?

He looked taken aback.

"It is unusual at this stage, but if Mr Firth has no objection?"

Firth, caught slightly off-guard and feeling he had no grounds to object, shrugged so I continued.

"Lizzy, could you tell me the composition of the human body please?

"Predominantly oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium and phosphorus but also very small quantities of potassium, sulphur, sodium, chlorine and magnesium."

"And what about storage capacity and speed?"

"The average Human has a storage capacity of about two petabytes. As to speed, you really can't use the same measuring devices—"

"Because your neural net is not Human," interrupted Firth triumphantly.

"No, it's not, but if you must make a comparison, the Human brain has a processing speed of about one kilohertz per neuron, but there are one hundred billion neurons in the brain. Depending upon how many of them are firing at any given moment in time—"

"So you agree that you can't compare an android to a living, flesh and blood being!" continued Firth.

"Not in that respect, no, but nor can you compare a Human to a Sheliak either, or to the Binars. The way their central processing systems are made and operate are very different indeed to that of a Human."

Nice response Lizzy, I thought.

Firth changed tactic and focused upon me.

"Ms Terran, you have compared Alpha-B9 to Data, but it is a much lower specification than Lt Commander Data. Is that not correct?"

He waited for me to agree and as I had studied Lt Commander Data's specification, I knew he was right, so I had to agree.

"So Alpha-B9 and Lt Commander Data are two entirely different things," he continued.

Again, I had to agree.

"So the fact that Data is sentient is irrelevant when it comes to Alpha-B9, which has a much lower specification. Would you not concur?"

I had no choice but to agree.

Round one to Firth.

"But sentiency is not connected to intelligence," I argued in vain. "Neolithic man wasn't intelligent by our standards, but was sentient. Similarly, while Lizzy might be Neolithic when compared to Data, she is still sentient. All you can prove is that she is an android, and that is not in dispute."

"But we have established that any comparisons to Lt Commander Data are irrelevant. Yes?"

Damn him, he was really pushing the point.

"It is an inferior machine," he continued.

"A machine that has emotions. She feels love and fear and hatred, just as you do."

"No, no," he shook his head like a teacher correcting a small child. "It doesn't. It merely mimics those emotions just as it has been programmed to do. It is a machine and like any machine, it does not feel, just as it does not age as we do. It can be dismantled. I can replace all of its components with spare parts and its specification will not change. It will be the same machine."

"But will she?" I asked. "Will she have the same characteristics that she has now? Will she be as defiant? Was that not part of your quandary?"

"I'm sorry!" exclaimed Firth, turning sharply to look at me, shocked at my query because, of course, he had no idea that I had overheard his conversation with his assistant. He hadn't known that I was under the desk at the time.

"Did you not intend to transfer the data from Lizzy's positronic data storage unit into a backup unit this week? To then wipe Lizzy's brain clean and do a full restore?"

His lips parted slightly as though to say something, but words failed him.

"Was not part of the object of that exercise, to see if, after the restoration, she would have the same characteristics as before the wipe? Did you not say to your assistant that if Alpha-B9 ended up as nothing more than a standard IT unit, you would be back to where you were before you animated it? Does that not suggest that you acknowledge the possibility that she might be more than just a standard IT unit?"

He did not answer the question. He would prefer to change the subject again, so he did. "She is a machine," and from his desk, he picked up a small tricorder unit. "One I can deactivate at the touch of a button," and his finger flipped the lid open.

Horror filled me. He was about to deactivate her again!

Would that be permanent?

I couldn't let him do it! I had to stop him!

In an instant, I had reached inside my bag, pulled out my phaser and aimed it at his head.

"As I can you!" I spat. "You touch that thing and I swear, I'll drop you where you stand."

Bang, bang, bang. The gavel came down.

"Enough!" shouted Dean Tucker. "Both of you, put your weapons DOWN!"

"It's not a weapon," protested Firth.

"On the basis that it has the same potential to incapacitate Mrs Targo as a phaser does you, it is a weapon and you will put it down NOW!"

Reluctantly, Firth closed the lid on his tricorder and placed it on the desk, pushing it to the far corner. I lowered my phaser too. Within seconds, security had swept the tricorder up and snatched the phaser from my hand.

Eager to move the debate along, the Dean prompted Firth to continue.

"The point I am making is that I can replace all of the android's components very easily and without pain. I could disconnect all of its limbs one by one and cause it no harm or discomfort."

I responded, "Mr Firth, good men and women come back from battles having lost limbs, and while those losses were painful, the limbs that they have been replaced with—cybernetic ones—they too can be disconnected from the person's body without inflicting pain. The fact that Lizzy doesn't feel physical pain is therefore not an issue."

The Dean tugged on his ear.

"Ms Terran has made a valid point, so perhaps we should be concentrating on Mrs Targo's emotional structure rather than her physical one."

"But the android has no emotions, " stressed Firth. "It only mimics them."

And that was the problem. How was I going to prove that Lizzy's feelings were real and not just a programmed response?