Character: Data
Fandom: Star Trek : The Next Generation
Words: 656
Prompt: Lair
Notes: This is set in the Myriad Universes Universe, where the Khitomer Accords were disrupted by a time agent resulting in a continuing war with the Klingon Empire. The human resistance was operating out of an underground lunar lair. Data was constructed as a weapon to be used against the Klingons.

Data stared as the fizzle of a hologram flickered to life. Even with his typically dry, emotionless manner, his blue eyes were filled with curiosity as the other AI materialized in front of him.

"Oh, what do you want?" the Doctor snapped, his own expression one of petulance and the lingering personality of his original designer. A last fragment of a skilled programmer that had been killed by the Klingons. "We've already established that I can't help you with anything. Shouldn't you be off somewhere doing something?"

"I wish to speak with you over non-official matters. I have not encountered any other sentient artificial intelligences."

"Sentient, ha!" The Doctor regarded the naive android. The concept was laughable. Here in this lair, hidden away from prying Klingon eyes, Data and he were less than even the expendable humans that populated the halls. "You're a weapon. Weapons aren't supposed to think. So stop trying to do it. You're wasting your time."

The androids face twitched slightly, mouth curling into a slight frown. Not really sadness, but rather lack of understanding of the situation. "I was created with the capacity to reason and think, why should I not be able to utilize those abilities."

The hologram slid his palm down his own face, a ghost of the man that he was based off of. "It's just to make us better at what we do. It's not for any 'independence' or something that's meant to make us people... these people don't care! They're having a hard enough time keeping themselves alive. And I'm supposed to be helping with that."

"You are not treating anyone right now..."

"Quiet!" He bit, wielding a finger at Data. "Just shhh..."

"I-"

"SHHHH!!!"

Data obeyed the second time. He didn't understand the hollow reaction that the refusal for discussion gave him. But he found himself touching the rip in his silver skin along his face. "...Would you be able to assist me in repairs."

"That's LaForge's job..."

"Is it not ironic that he is a human that would repair machines, and you are a machine that would-"

"Yes, yes it is. Don't make me think about it. I'm a doctor, not a philosopher..." He rubbed his temple, grudgingly regarding Soong's creation. And he let the idea strike him then... The were both based off their creators. Physically younger representations of wise men captured, tortured, and killed by the Klingons.

"If you want to keep going with this, I'm a machine meant to heal people, and you're one meant to destroy them."

The androids hands went slack at his sides, fingers rubbing against each other. "I do not approve of what I am."

"What? Noooooo... Who would have thought. We make a weapon that doesn't want to kill people. No wonder humans are doing so badly in this war."

"Perhaps the intention was to instill feelings of protection toward the humans that I was assigned to follow. However, I would much prefer your job."

"No you wouldn't. People activate you for random conversations that don't have anything to do with anything important. Now go bother Riker or someone, I have files to organize and data that isn't you to review."

With that spiteful last comment, the hologram dissipated again. Data's brows crept up in almost canid innocence, and he touched the bared section of face again. He wasn't going to be repaired, he could accurately project. There were more important and crucial activities than molding more bioplast for his comfort. His fingers trailed over a gap in the wires, glancing at the panel that contained the holography equipment that had just produced the opinionated individual he'd just spoken with.

Reaching out, he gently patted the smooth surface with an affection that he couldn't quite realize. He hoped, at least, the Doctor would think a bit for the both of them. After all, weapons were expendable, and he would rather at least one of them could keep growing.