A Crossover of Biblical Proportions

(My favorite show Star Trek Next Generation meets my favorite movie Kingdom of Heaven)

Picard walked into the city. He couldn't tell exactly where he was, or even where he was supposed to be. That it was a place with almost as many children and soldiers as traders and civilians was the second thing he noticed. The first was a pair of travelers who obviously hadn't been inside the walls of...wherever he was... any longer than himself. He decided the best way to discover what was going on, and yet avoid drawing attention to himself, would be to pass them slowly, but not stop...

“I have been a slave, or very near to one.” The whiter skinned man was saying. “I will never keep one nor suffer any to be kept if I can change it. Go your own way in peace.”

The other man, who looked strangely Middle Eastern mounted a horse and smiled softly. “Your quality will be known among your 'enemies', before ever you met them my friend.” They bowed their heads to each-other and parted ways. The Westerner simply walking his horse further into the city.

He couldn't explain why, but something told Jean-Luc to follow one of them. Between following an apparent European and following one whose culture and philosophy were likely so different from his own, the choice was simple. Besides, if he would be here any length of time at all, it would help to learn about this world straight from the horses mouth...from someone both from this city and on this world. His was not a first contact mission. As such, by regulations he was to limit contact with these people. No one who knew him could call him a stickler for regulation and protocol. If he was to value his reputation for anything, it was his open mind and 'play by play' approach to things. Which was just another way of saying 'there were times when following the rules for that selfsame reason, just doesn't work out'. There was a lingering doubt whether to engage in conversation or contact with anyone from this world. By this time they had come to the market place. The first thing he noticed was that the man he was following seemed very intent on something or someone, as though he really didn't want to be seen, but wasn't exactly hiding. Then he realized he himself had been pretty much wide open ever since he woke up. He followed the man into a corner of the market, away from most people.

A few seconds later the man turned to face him squarely. The Captain knew his universal translator would function here. This man would hear a colloquial, contemporary and accurate rendition of his words. He wasn't sure how he could convince the man of the sincerity of anything he said.

“I didn't mean to be rude.” The captain stated firmly. “I've been following you for sometime and I probably felt like a shifty character. I assure you the truth is precisely the opposite.”

“Why am I so interesting to you?” The other man intoned gently.

“Well...You are not, not you personally. I am a stranger here. I overheard the end of the conversation at the water trough. I don't really know where I am and I suspected that if I was to learn about this place, I'd stand to learn more by following and listening to you.”

“You are such a stranger as to not know the name of this city?” Came the immediate reply.

“Well, also that other man sounded French, I think I would learn more things worth knowing and worth remembering if I talked with you. I'm not lying or putting on airs. I'm an explorer in the truest sense.” Picard paused a moment to consider the possible ramifications of his next question, while the face of the other man grew sere and cold. “And you're right, I don't know where I am.”

“This is the city of peace...Jerusalem.” The other man told him placidly.

“I think I need to find a place to sit down.” Picard answered shakily.

The Arab looked at Picard with measuring eyes. “There's an inn not far from here, if you would like we can go there and discover for ourselves the truth of anything we say.”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. But why did your face just cloud over?”

“If you mean in puzzlement and confusion, I'm wondering how a Frenchman found their way to Jerusalem and yet did not see that he was there. Also you present every sensation of someone trapped in a difficult situation both yearning and forbidden to speak.”

“I can answer the first part right now.” Picard stated simply. “I woke up not far at all from this city, but I can't really remember how I came to be here. You are just as perceptive and accurate with the last. It's just harder to explain.” Picard winced as the past hour caught up to him. “I don't know your name.”

“Call me Nasir.” The other man said almost at once. “And you?”

“Leaving my rank completely out of this, call me either Picard or Jean-Luc. Whichever you are more comfortable with.” The captain proceeded to mentally kick himself for his carelessness. 'Rank' in this time-frame and setting was almost never in military application. It was a level of nobility and status or lack thereof. And asking his new guide to leave his rank aside was essentially calling himself a noble who didn't want anything to do with his family. There wasn't much time to correct this mistake however because the native was now stepping in very close to him, obviously intent on something quite serious.

“My true name is Imad-Al-Din. I ask you to call me 'Nasir' for now.”

“Alright Nasir, I am in your hands.” A look of complete shock washed over the Prince's face. “Forgive me. I mean it's up to you where we go and what we talk about. Not that I as yet owe you a debt.”

“I see.” The other man intoned gently. “Well not entirely. But I hope to learn more of this in time.”

Alright, maybe the translator doesn't work that well here.' Picard thought to himself.

The walk to the inn would have been quite short had it not been just about supper time. As it was they had to stop every few minutes and let someone pass. Nasir, as we must call him, pointed various monuments and thorough streets out to the Captain. And when the Captain asked specifically where they were going, the response was 'three more streets up and one to our left'. Nasir's face blatantly displayed his confusion at the question. The Captain said it was just in case they got separated, and that right along with knowledge of where everything else is, he'd know where to go to find help. Nasir simply nodded. It made sense to him. When they made it to the inn, Nasir promptly sat down in the corner of the hall closest to a window but farthest from the door, at a really narrow table between two long benches. The Captain joined a moment later.

“There is no distance or formality to be kept?” Picard pondered aloud, standing at the foot of the table.

“You honestly do not know where we are do you?” Nasir replied in a bemused tone. At the small shake of Picard's head the man continued. “Baldwin the Fourth keeps Jerusalem as a place of prayer for all faiths. Go much outside these walls and one religion or the other would be dominant. Here, most people ignore the division, except when it comes to food...join me for some bread and chicken?”

Picard moved to sit at the bench as he would at a restaurant in France. Or just on the ship. Nasir's face barely twitched. Then Jean-Luc saw why it was such a low-set, long table with equally long benches. He drew himself down on his left side with his head facing the table.

“Most of the time there would be no problem.” Nasir offered gently. “The table moves and the seats are spaced so it can be either one..” Picard raised his hand. Nasir quieted.

“I can see what's physically in front of me.” The Captain explained. “I knew the choice. I just didn't see what was wrong with my original decision.”

“The people here know me. I can trust them not to say anything or to make a ceremony of it all. But they are traditionalist and narrow minded in some ways. If they saw me concede to you instead of the other way around, they'd think either you were greater nobility, which they do not consider a good thing, or that I was rejecting my family all together.”

“That sounds like a privilege versus responsibility issue.” Picard mused aloud.

“Exactly that.” The other man answered firmly. “Why do you have a decidedly uncomfortable look?”

“I have two questions for you. One will make me look like an idiot and the other is intrusive.”

“Ask the intrusive one first.” Nasir replied with a soft smile.

“Who was that other man I saw you with?” Nasir laughed aloud. “Did I say something funny?”

“If that is an intrusive question, your people must me far more polite and withdrawn than what the native French are like.” Nasir told him in a calm voice, but still smiling. “Native to this region I mean. To answer your question I will need to do some explaining first.” Picard simply nodded and the lord continued. “One of my closest servants and I took on each-others positions for a while. It was a mutual choice and one which ended in his death. What happened was we saw that man near the sea and one of us, you can guess which one, decided to challenge that 'scraggly peasant' for his horse. After a few parries, with Mummad al Fais on horseback and this stranger on foot, the man declared himself as the new baron of Ibelin. It became very much a fair fight after that...One my servant lost.”

“I saw the look on your face when he sent you on your way in peace.” Picard stated plainly. “Why would you be so surprised at that reaction if your peoples are at peace with each-other?”

“Because as he saw me at the time, I was either his prisoner or his slave by law. By either of our laws, he could claim me as either one...A prize of battle. I still do not know if he is the son of Godfrey. He is worthy to be called a lord. I hope and pray a chance will come for me to show him the same consideration.”

“Why would he become your new master?” Picard persisted. “...He still doesn't know you are a lord.”

“Yes. To be completely honest, if this man is Godfrey's son for sure. That is if he inherited the title of the baron of Ibelin, I'd have revealed myself at once and suggested he and I travel these streets together.”

Captain Picard smiled broadly.“Perhaps I'm being a little foolish or ignorant in this but...what got in the way of that?” For a few seconds Nasir stared, apparently expecting the answer to come to his mind on its own. Which it did a moment later. “He might have taken the title rather than been given it. And that would make things difficult.”

“To say the least. Godfrey was a great warrior in his own right. But more importantly he was fair minded and even handed. Without prejudice and without anger. At least, without anger towards US. If this man took such a voice of reason away from this city, I would be more inclined to challenge him to a fight to the death...and not hold back.”

“I don't think you'll have to worry about that.” A vaguely feminine voice said from behind Picard's booth. “I would take a safe guess that he is Godfrey's son. And from what you've said, he doesn't care about the custom of position. That tradition seems to endure.” 'Captain I know you can hear me. I am a stranger in this world but I know more about it than a stranger would. Since you have established yourself as a stranger to this city, presumably from France, don't be too familiar with my face when you do see me face to face. And he is speaking French because he thinks you are French. Which means there is no such thing as being lost in translation...so don't use that excuse when your interpreter dies.'

“I noticed that about him when he didn't keep me as a servant, slave or anything else.” Nasir stated coolly. “And I am glad to hear that he is rightly his father's son. But how do you know that Hannah?”

“Almaric and his men were told to look out for a man coming to Jerusalem, who hopefully would not come alone but if he did he would be thoroughly lost. And that this man was Godfrey's bastard son. Who with any luck would have received his father's title and rank before coming here. From what I could not help over hearing from the next booth, it sounds like his did...receive that title I mean.” Picard and Imad saw a pale skinned, auburn haired young woman walk up to the edge of the table, in front of and between both men.

'Grace if you can hear me, you seem to have a lot of names. Cross paths with me once I part with this man, alright?' Picard's mental message was easily received by his old friend. Who dropped her head as if deep in thought, as an affirmative answer to the Captain's question.

“Hannah, what is wrong?' Nasir inquired gently.

“Nothing is wrong.” The young woman replied. “It's just I think I should go see if and where this new lord will meet with his father's people. But I sincerely hope to cross paths with this gentleman again.” She added, putting her hand on Picard's shoulder. The Captain barely raised an eyebrow. “He feels familiar to me.” She walked away with a slight bow and a quiet smile.

Nasir sat up and leaned forward staring at Picard with hard eyes. The captain raised himself returned the gaze.

“You cannot tell me that does not make you uncomfortable!” Nasir told Jean-Luc in a cold whisper.

“Being greeted as though by an old friend?” The captain replied in a strange, somewhat placid tone.

“You only arrived today by your words and Hannah has been here for many weeks. Also she didn't really seem to know you, except that she seemed to trust you.”

“And that part doesn't make you unsure and concerned?” The Captain shot back.

At which point Picard's host leaded back slightly. When he spoke again it was in a slightly softer, but still perfectly firm voice.“I am on familiar terms with her at all because she seemed to think me worth trusting …the very first time I met her. I guess it's your reaction and not hers that worries me.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Picard muttered. “I seem worth trusting, as you said, and so does she.”

“That makes sense I suppose.” Nasir admitted gently.

“I should ask you something, but I don't want to feel like an idiot.” Picard began slowly.

“You said that before Sir. And your question was very reasonable.” Nasir pointed out.

“Do the Merchants and innkeepers here accept Foreign coin?”

“I concede it, that is quite an obvious question. I doubt you could've grown up in France as you claim.”

“To my knowledge I have never made that claim.” Picard answered him firmly. “And do I correctly assume the answer is in the affirmative?”

“We have a French King.” Was the almost instantaneous reply. There was a look of shock on the Captain's face that the Prince must not have liked or understood too well. He once again leaned in with an intent expression, this time accompanied by piercing eyes. “Sir, where ARE you from?”

Picard heard the familiar sound of the transporter and felt something new in his trouser pockets on either side. As the left side of his khakis suddenly felt slightly heavier, and given the turn of the conversation, he could guess what was now in each. Accordingly he took a piece of thick parchment out of the pocket at his right hip and handed it to Nasir. Who, after reading it through a couple of times, blushed in embarrassment.

“It says here you are a ship's Captain without papers beyond this this one. And that you rarely stay anywhere long enough to acquire native coins.” He set the paper down “I can infer from this, you have been injured in a ship wreck, hitting your head or something and just don't remember these things. It's not that you never knew them.”

“I think that must be it.” Picard answered coarsely.

“I can infer also this explains your confusion about this city and its people.” Imad continued placidly.

“Well, I don't know if I was headed here specifically or not. I can now say with certainty that I've heard conflicting reports of the Holy City and I wanted to see for myself what it was really like.”

“Sir, it seems to me that statement is inherently contrary.”

“I'm wondering why I woke up without any of my crew around. Unless something drastic happened, I'm not permitted to leave the ship unaccompanied. This I remember clearly.”

“Perdon moi Monsieur?” Picard heard the prince said plainly. That's what Grace meant about my translator failing. It couldn't have picked a better time to. Picard thought to himself. Then he realized of course this was deliberate. Whether from her powers or Commandar Data's technical interference he did not know. “I used my captain's rank to come ashore near here on my own. I need to tell my friends I'm alright.”

“Well, that's easily enough addressed.” The man stated in what Picard once again heard as English. He wondered if the man was again speaking French. More to the point was he himself being heard in French? It would certainly answer the man's assumption as to his origins. The question became, what could be risked or gained in trying to put the man at ease.

“Sajiq, I should...Well for one thing may I call you that?” The Captain intoned gently. The other man nodded firmly. “In that case may I suggest you speak as comfortably and plainly as though you were speaking to a native? I mean, without forced calm or formal intonations?”

“Sajiq,” Imad began crisply. “This is how I speak to natives. Asking me to speak casually is asking me to speak as to a 'lesser' stranger. Although I do accept that it is easier for me to speak in Arabic, I am not put off or strained to speak French. I see a paler skinned person here and that is honestly my first reaction.” Picard gave a confused look. “...To speak in French.”

“You are saying my statement and request is again contrary? And that French is...You have a French king. Being nobility as you are, speaking French is of course a talent that is fairly common around here.”

“Sir...where are you from?” Nasir asked, quite unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

“Across a much farther sea than France.” The Captain answered at once. “And I really wish I could find some other way to say this but it is getting very late. I should find the proprietor of this inn, hand her what French coins I have and see if I can spend the night.”

At this declaration the Saracen's face clouded over and he became visibly distressed. When Picard asked him about it, there was a considerable pause. “Now that I know why you come across as such a strange foreigner,” He began, folding his hands in front of him, almost like a Christian in a prayer. “I was going to invite you to my residence up higher in this city. First, I should finish the explanation I began. Baldwin the fourth, and long may he reign, keeps this city as a place of prayer for all faiths. Islam and Christianity are respected by the other side...at least by most people on the other side. And as I said, my true name is Imad-Al-Din. Infer from that what you will.”

“I wondered if you were from a higher family, and just didn't want to make me uncomfortable.” Picard admitted. “I take it that's a confirmation of my supposition?” The other man nodded and grinned. “Well, as long as your manners are sincere and your beliefs value peace I guess...we're alright.”

“I thank you sir, but I must ask you this: Why bother to speak French at all?”

“It's the most 'local' of the languages I know.” Picard answered simply, and barely truthfully.

“In that case I have one final question for you before I invite you up to my house. That is, to a place I keep in the northern quarter of this city.” Imad stated in a plain and simple tone.

“Then please ask it.” Picard replied easily.

“When I said Hannah seems familiar with you, I did not mean 'on familiar terms'. I meant she seemed to know you personally. Why do you think that is?”

Picard smiled as a phrase came to his mind, which he guessed could serve as an answer to his question. “She must learn pretty fast whether people can be trusted and have strong faith in whatever sense she has. And If I may make a supposition, was it not the same when you met her?”

“Captain you are very perceptive. And yes, she told me she must trust whatever power gives her the ability to sense the honesty and goodness, or lack thereof, in a person's heart. We should go.”

And that was that. No other confirmation was needed. When they came to the rather austere rooms that Imad kept in Jerusalem however, something seemed to be wearing them both down. Imad could sense a secret weight in the Captain's heart. And the Captain could not shake the feeling that he was practically lying to his most gracious host.

“Imad, I hope you'll understand that I count myself a lodger not a guest. If there is a distinction to be made as far as hospitality, please make it. I don't want you to treat me well because I'm so much of a stranger. I can't help thinking you are either more curious or more suspicious of me than you let on.”

“I just wonder what you are so reluctant to share with me. And you are certainly not a paying lodger, but I'll try to leave you alone as much as possible if that is your wish.”

“I thank you. I cannot choose but wonder if you can sense anything about me...the way Grace did.”

For a split second Picard looked worried. Hannah and Grace were the same person, but Imad wouldn't have known the girl's other persona. And he did not want to invite questions about their mutual friend. But Imad didn't seem to notice or care about the discrepancy in the name.

“Hannah trusted you. That much was obvious. From what I can sense, you are not the most open individual I could meet...but you are honest. The silence you keep does not suit you well, but at least you are not a liar. Which is all I care about really. If whatever you DO tell me while you're here is the truth as you see it, then we are...I cannot think of the word.”

“I can assure you, it will be...and has been. I think you mean 'on good terms' or on even footing.”

“Well, why the newly troubled look on your face then?”

“A lingering curiosity about Hannah, or Grace as I call her. I think I should tell you, French isn't even my native language. I have something in my pocket that translates my words. In fact the way it normally functions you'd be hearing my words in Arabic. I guess someone is trying their hardest to make sure I don't look like a false-friend or an idiot.”

“Someone on your ship do you mean? Or do you refer to Hannah herself?” Picard stared at his host, who promptly smiled broadly at him. “I am quite familiar with the pains she sometimes takes to make sure everyone 'gets along fine'. I just wouldn't usually be believed if I tried to tell anyone about it.”

“I feel the same, both as far as my regard for her and her reluctance to stand out. I didn't want to have to keep silent for her sake. I just saw no other course. I'm glad to meet someone who accepts her oddities, as part of who she is and not part of a mystery to be solved. I will assume she is more responsible for the peace of our meeting than any one or anything else?”

“Not directly no.” Imad answered slowly. “She saw these same qualities in me that I see in you. That is, a willingness to accept other points of view and to realize and admit when your own perceptions are proven baseless. You and I both have a quiet strength about us, and a certain...ability to be at peace no matter what the circumstance. But she did not teach me these qualities if that is what you mean. She and I are friends because she saw me as just such an individual.”

“I really meant...can you accept me so readily because you've already accepted her.”

“We are stars in the ashes, the three of us...an expression she uses to mean we have rare quality and perception. We see and judge with our own eyes without thought to what other people would tell us or what we have been taught. I imagine it makes it easy to see such qualities in others when we meet them.”

“Then there are no more secrets to be kept.” Captain Jean-Luc Picard stated happily.

“I have to admit curiosity for what your world, your land is like. But I'll hold my tongue on it.”

“You are right. That would be a big secret.” Picard admitted slowly. A moment later he offered his hand to Imad. “If there's ever a way I can thank you for your open honesty and gentle philosophy, preferably without breaking my own rules and regulations, let me know.”

“Settle yourself without my help and if possible help me find Balian. I'll let everyone know you are my guest not a lodger, believe me the distinction will help. With random factors operating in our favor, my days will continue as uninterrupted as can be. Except for thoroughly open eyes and mind.”

Picard's face clouded over. “Sir, I don't mind if you speak to me as a native or an inferior. That's what I meant before...I was asking you to drop the high speech and forced formal tones. Please speak naturally to me.”

“And I say that's an insult to both of us.” Imad answered at once.

“Imad, what did Grace tell you about me, if anything?” Picard asked in a dry tone.

“That you're basically from another world who's hearts had caught up with your heads. And I take it your visit is already coming to a close?”

“My visit to this city continues. I'll have a few more days to explore. I can't stay with you to do that. I want to see this city through the eyes of a true traveler, not a guest or through only one set of eyes."

“I hope someday I'll come to understand exactly why. Till then, I'll respect you decision...Except I'll ask one favor of you first. Explain why it would break your ships regulations to answer a thing I might have asked you before? Or failing that...” Picard gave a 'go ahead' look with his eyes. “How do you plan on confirming with your ship's company that you are alright? I concede it was a thing I barely touched on but it might be needful in the end.”

“I don't know how to let them know I'm alright without the help of something in my vest pocket.”

“A communications device?” Imad asked pleasantly. Picard looked askance. “You mentioned it before sir. Please, you are safe here. Unless you have a problem with me personally knowing things, it is alright.”

In reply Picard drew his combadge out of his vest pocket and tapped it twice. “Yes captain?” A soft but strong voice came from out of nowhere.

“Will, this place would amaze either you or Data. Officially I'm just letting you all know I'm alright.”

“And unofficially?” Will stated, obviously pleased.

“I'm letting my host know he IS right.” Picard could almost feel the confusion on the other side of the conversation. “I'll be fine Number One. And I mean as far as my host and our own superiors. I'll work out 'what to do next' in a few minutes and let you know. Picard out.” The Captain tucked the combadge back into his vest and stared Imad squarely in the face.

“I take it that was not...according to the rules?” Imad stated easily.

“Correct sir.” Picard answered calmly.

“In which case, I thank you for your trust in me.” Imad offered.

“You would have figured it out from what I'd already said. The proverbial damage had been done. At least this way I don't have a...I don't look dishonest or ungrateful. I have exactly two questions for you.”

“Then please ask them.” Imad prompted just as coolly.

“How did you know?”

Picard's question was met with a troubled look and a soft smile. “Captain, you are not exclusively responsible for this. But I assessed you must have something that was translating my words for you and yours for me. A thought you confirmed for me earlier and I thank you. The only way I can think for any sane first officer to let the captain come ashore on their own would be if they could keep in contact pretty easily. It was logic.”

“Alright I'll forestall my second question to ask who else could have let you know about this.”

“Hannah, or Grace as you call her. The names mean the same thing in our languages. She told me of explorers who on their journeys are 'obligated to speak and compelled to keep quiet'. I'm not sure I believe the ship on a sea of stars part of her story, but you seem to be exactly who and what she was describing.”

“I suppose that works.” Picard admitted gently. “There's one thing I've been wondering about. How much do you know about us from Grace?” Imad looked mystified. “About my crew as a group, I mean. Now that you know I'm not from across a sea...What do you know about the people who comprise my senior staff?”

Imad visibly relaxed. “If I can trust what she's told me to be literally true: there's an individual on your ship who always sells himself short on his own abilities, yet could be seen as superior by most accounts. It's like being different makes him less than normal rather than superior. I know you have a cardinal rule of non-interference which is why, I take it, you have guarded your words so carefully. She says you personally have... this is exceedingly difficult...” He paused to collect his thoughts and his courage. “You have the heart of an explorer and the soul of a poet.” Imad paused as a look of both sorrow and peace came over Picard's face. “You are not a military organization, your fleet or your crew. But you know how to fight if it comes to it.”

“Thank you. That was the missing element.” Picard stated both warmly and softly. He tapped the combadge again. “Will, are you still there?”

“Affirmative Captain.” The strong, pleasant voice came again.

“Could you beam Data down here, without disguise or delay? We'll beam up again momentarily.”

About a minute later Imad saw a beam of light about 10 feet to his right and when the light had faded there was a man in front of him. This individual had pale, almost yellow skin and short, shiny brown hair, which was combed straight back. He was almost Picard's height and showed a soft visage. Imad got the feeling this man would not be easily angered.

“Captain, what is the trouble?” The individual, whom Imad realized was Data inquired in a soft tone.

“No trouble Data.” Picard answered easily. “I am simply trying to confirm what Grace has told my new friend. I hope I didn't break the prime directive by answering his questions. What I said to confirm his suspicions, may or may not qualify. But he was making some pretty informed assertions. And not all of the blame would fall on me anyway.”

“I am afraid I do not understand.” Data admitted softly.

Imad looked at his newest guest. Suddenly a broad smile shown through his previously solemn features. “Your friend Grace calls herself 'Hannah' here. As both words mean 'the unmerited favor of God', it makes sense to me. In the short time she and I have known each-other, she has told me many stories of your crew and your adventures. But she told them as though they were science-based fiction, or tales written for the sake of their moral and inspirational merits. I'm the only one, I hope, to ever suspect they were more than that.” His gaze shifted to Picard. “You can understand now, why I believe that our meeting just inside the walls of this city was anything but an accident.”

“I understand.” Picard answered. “Our people don't believe in any particular god, but Grace taught us there is such a thing as fate. Except, if she did contrive this meeting, what would she hope to gain from it?”

Imad shifted uncomfortably. “Forgive me but any speculation of her motives would be exactly that. It seems we both have the ability to ask her to her face. We should try that first. I'm just glad to see with my own eyes there are others out there willing to see past preconceived notions, instilled prejudice.” Picard looked both confused and scared. Imad quickly noticed this and smiled broadly. “That you would even consider breaking your cardinal rule of non-interference, which again I already knew about, for the sake of my peace of mind, tells me as much. You have an open mind and heart. But I do have a question for Data, if I may?”

“Then please ask me.” The android replied at once.

“Hannah has only told me bits and pieces of your adventures. And most of what she does say focuses on you sir. I guess it's more of a statement. Stop trying to be 'as human as possible'. Being flesh and blood is impossible. Being human is a matter of intelligence, consideration and morality. As long as you have a conscience, and remain curious about the universe, you are as human as any of us.”