Log Entry 150328.142

The two days passed quickly. I was able to get Lizzy's pass code to her datapad just as I had anticipated, so spent the time studying the files with such intensity that I neglected to go to bed.

I skipped all my lessons too. What would be the point of them if I was thrown out of the Academy? And I ended up turning my room into something like a criminal investigation centre from some old detective story because the thing about a datapad is that you can't have lots of pages viewing at the same time. I ended up replicating some good old-fashioned paper and coloured pens. With them, I jotted down the points of interest and then stuck them to the walls. I've discovered that pen and paper are a medium that offers wonderful flexibility. You can scribble, amend and add notes in big letters or small print, draw arrows and mood doodles (sad faces, smilies and little yellow light bulbs for the odd epiphany), and you can colour code things to highlight links. When the time came, I was ready. At least, I felt ready.

Log Entry 150321.141

It seems I have two days until my hearing and then I'll be thrown out of the Academy. It's longer than I expected though. Is somebody rooting for me? Actually, it wouldn't surprise me if the Dean was cutting me as much slack as he could. Not because he likes me or anything, but because of the possible injustice here. He'll have met Lizzy, I don't doubt. Even if she didn't pass in front of his desk as a naughty student, he must have met her, spoken with her, interacted with her. Anyone with half an ounce of humanity in them can feel her passion and her ... wackiness! That's the word I'm looking for! Wacky. Lizzy is wacky, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

So how do I set about proving that Lizzy is sentient, especially in her absence? I certainly have no intention of producing her. How did Data do it, I wonder?

In that moment I realised that I needed to research Data's case, and Lal's for that matter, but did I have access to them? Probably not, but ...

I toyed with T'Roc's datapad in my hands, stroking its smooth edges with my fingers. Is that why she had left it, so that I could access Starfleet records using her codes? Instantly I knew how stupid that was. T'Roc would never be so irresponsible as to give access to all of Starfleet's confidential records to a curious, young cadet. Yet that very thought filled me with confidence.

Before then I was dubious about awakening the pad. I didn't want to fire it up and intrude into T'Roc's private affairs. Nor did I trust myself not to sneak a peek at a few people's personnel files, (what did mine say, I wonder?) but T'Roc wouldn't be that naive. She just wouldn't do that. So, I'd either fire it up and see nothing, or I'd fire it up and see exactly what T'Roc wanted me to see. At least that's what I had convinced myself of.

I pressed the activation key and the screen illuminated. Hey presto! Two folders were open, and I found that I was relieved that I had access to nothing else. I really don't think I'm strong enough to resist that sort of temptation. It was still a huge risk on T'Roc's part, though, but once again, it proved how much she believed in her crew.

The first folder was codenamed 'The Measure of a Man' and contained all of the reports and log entries by those involved during the period in which Data was ordered to report to Starbase 173 for disassembly, through to the conclusion of the enquiry. The second folder, 'The Offspring' comprised the reports and log entries surrounding Lal's creation and development right through to her 'death'.

It was a lot of information that would take hours to read and I didn't doubt that T'Roc would be back for her datapad sooner rather than later, so I sent them all to—not my datapad. I wasn't sure how secure that would be now, so I sent them to Lizzy's. I could then contact Peter and ask him to ask Lizzy for her access code. So that's what I did.

Log Entry 150314.140

Being awoken by a hypospray is a somewhat unique experience. It's not like someone gently nudging you awake. It's more like someone throwing a bucket of cold water at you ... only without the water.

As synthesised adrenaline rushed through my veins, my eyes snapped open and my brain screamed. It wanted to be asleep; it had been asleep and now it clawed at unconsciousness in the same way that you claw the covers back over your face to shut the daylight out when so rudely awoken.

There was also confusion as the light blinded me. I shut my eyes again quickly and then opened them slowly, squinting at first to allow them to adjust to the brilliance.

I was in the Academy medical facility lying on a bio-bed. I was near the window, a huge plate glass thing that dominated the wall. The sun was shining brightly through it, and silhouetted against it was my captain.

T'Roc had her back to me and gazed across the splendid Academy gardens, with her hands clenched behind her back. Usually, T'Roc always seemed more Klingon than Vulcan to me, but today her tranquillity was most definitely Vulcan.

She spoke. Her voice was calm, clear and devoid of emotion. She did not turn to look at me, but continued her study of the gardens.

"Where is Elizabeth Buffalo?" she asked.

I paused before answering. Firth's words were echoing in my ears ... you're through with Starfleet.

"I don't know ... and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. My career is over if I tell you where she is and it's over if I don't."

I felt sick as I said it. I loved Starfleet. It's the only thing I've ever done that had any meaning, anything I was any good at.

T'Roc did not reply immediately. She stood pensive but raised her head to gaze at the clouds in the sky.

"So you know you were wrong," she finally said.

"No. I was not wrong. What Steven Firth wanted to do was immoral. It's tantamount to murder."

"Can you murder an android?" she asked, turning to me, her chocolate brown eyes neither cold nor warm, just mysterious, mischievous even.

"Yes. Lizzy is sentient. Destroying her would be the same as murder."

"Starfleet doesn't engage murderers," she replied, a discrete, almost invisible smile played at the corners of her mouth. She knew it and turned back to the window, but I could see it still there in her reflection.

"Well, he didn't actually commit the crime, did he? I stopped him. Without committing the crime, he can't be convicted."

"But he was going to."

"Yes. You know that."

"I do, but unless Lizzy was sentient, there is no crime."

"She is sentient. She laughs, she cries, she sings ... I think she may even have a lover."

"Interesting ..." T'Roc dragged the word out and clasped her hands in front of her mouth as though in prayer. She was definitely getting at something ... something she couldn't say as a Starfleet officer, but something that she wanted me to know. My face screwed in query but T'Roc said nothing more. She waited expectantly.

"If Lizzy was sentient, would Firth's actions be considered an attempt at murder?" I asked.

"Indeed, but Lizzy is not sentient."

"Data is sentient."

"Lizzy is not Commander Data."

I sat up, pushing at my pillows to prop me up. I scratched my chin and ran my fingers through my matted hair and thought hard. My brain was fuddled as though stuffed with cotton wool, but I needed it to work. This was important.

"But if I can prove that Lizzy is sentient ...?"

T'Roc drew a long, deep breath and I saw her pout a smile in the glass.

"Indeed." There was a quiet satisfaction in her voice.

"Then I have to fight this. If I want to keep my career, I have to prove that Steven Firth's actions were immoral by proving that Lizzy is sentient."

She turned to me, her poise one-hundred percent Vulcan.

"It would seem to be the most logical course of action."

"But how do I do that?"

"That will be for you to determine," and then, having completed her objective, T'Roc turned and left. My eyes followed her and stared at the closed door after she had gone. Then they drifted to the table beside my bed. A datapad lay there. It was T'Roc's. I recognised it by the intertwined IDIC and Klingon crests that she had emblazoned on the back of it. I picked it up, reaching towards the door and opening my mouth to shout after her, but stopped. T'Roc didn't do things by accident. If she had left it there, it was intentional.