Part 13 (2/2)

Tasha's tricorder was gone. Of course; Nalavia's people had obviously searched the room while the President kept Data occupied. If she had left him a message in that obvious place, it was coded so that no one else could read it-but neither could he without the instrument.

But it had been here this morning. So he had been in here before the search, although after someone else had discovered Tasha missing. Whatever evidence had been here then was now scuffed about, turned over, muddled by the searchers even though they had carefully put everything back except the tricorder.

Data, however, had a perfect record in his memory banks of how the room had looked this morning. Remembering that he had told the guard he had come in to borrow something, he picked up Tasha's shoe polisher and returned to his own room, making sure the guard looked up and saw him enter ... for he did not expect to stay there long.

Quickly, he ran through the morning's images of Tasha's room. Nothing at ordinary focus. Wait ... the chair by the door was at an odd angle. He focused in on the carpet, and could see the impressions its legs had left where it usually sat-where it sat once again this evening-along with a scuff mark where it had been shoved out of place.

A human would have had to squat down and examine the carpeting with special equipment. Data was able to magnify and home in on every square centimeter he had looked at, even with peripheral vision. There were the prints of three different sets of shoes-Tasha's Starfleet issue boots, one set belonging to an average-sized humanoid male or rather large female who had wandered all over the room, and one set belonging to someone very heavy for the size of his feet, who had stood near the door, back against the wall, for some time.

Immediately in front of the door, Data's own small but deep footprints walked straight through the signs of a fight-many footprints at various angles, other marks caused by other parts of bodies. .h.i.tting the floor.

The carpeting held impressions best, but now that he knew what he was looking for Data found the scuffs on the door and walls. Tasha had fought two opponents who had been hiding in her room, waiting for her. Why hadn't the guard heard?

Because he was part of the scheme? No, Nalavia didn't have Tasha.

Because he was paid off? Unlikely-Nalavia's displeasure did not seem worth the risk.

Because he was either away from his post or unconscious, then.

Data replayed his own return last night. The guard seemed to have been just waking up, rubbing his neck- If he had been drugged he would probably have stayed unconscious. If he had been hit on the head he would have had pain. But a cramp in the neck where it joined the shoulder- He had been put out with a Vulcan nerve pinch, then, which accounted for the heavier-than-human person in Tasha's room. But ... a Vulcan? On Treva without the Federation's knowledge? Oh, no ... not a Romulan, please!

This was no time for fruitless speculation. A Vulcanoid person and probably a human had kidnapped Tasha. They were not Nalavia's people, which meant she was not on the palace grounds. Either she was hidden in the city, or she had been taken elsewhere. That depended on who had taken her.

There was only one likely prospect: Nalavia's enemy, the warlord Rikan. He had a stronghold somewhere to the east of here. Data accessed the information on Rikan he had gleaned from Nalavia's computers. Too far for her captors to have taken her on foot. Groundcar or flyer, then.

Data had no groundcar, but he did have a shuttlecraft ... hangared at the city's landing field.

Even if he was wrong about who had taken Tasha, he needed the shuttle's radio to inform the Enterprise of today's events. It would not be a wasted journey even if once there, where he could also access the aircraft control records, he found nothing that indicated a journey in the right direction.

All of this took less than five minutes. In forty-seven minutes, Data was expected at dinner. Soon thereafter, Nalavia would send someone for him-but by that time he planned to be far away from her Presidential Palace, ”hot on the trail” of Tasha Yar.

Taking both phaser and tricorder, Data went out through the floor of the bath again, carefully fitting it back above him to leave his method of escape a mystery. He worked his way to the back of the palace, beneath the kitchen, where as he expected he found an opening to the grounds. It was twilight, an excellent time to fool humanoid eyes. Full day or full dark, while Data's uniform was not bad camouflage amid the browns and greens typical of cla.s.s-M planets' vegetation, his pale face and hands would stand out far more than human coloring, even though he deliberately smeared dirt on them.

Switching to infrared vision again, he set out across the grounds, dodging from one ornamental planting to another and avoiding open lawns. The perimeter defenses were primitive by Starfleet standards; Data observed the visual scanners until both in range of him were turned away, then sprinted between them. The touch-sensitive fence he merely leaped over. Then he set out for the landing field at a run.

Data could not run much faster than the fastest human; the shape of his body determined that. His advantage lay in his inorganic substructure, which would not fatigue and force him to slow or rest. He maintained the speed of a sprinter all the way to the landing field, actually moving faster afoot than they had in the groundcar on their arrival. He took alternative roads to avoid populated areas, but the map of the city he had accessed from Nalavia's computer showed him a route shorter than the one on which the visitors from Starfleet had been displayed. The only breaks in his journey came when he hid to allow cars to pa.s.s.

He had to slow at the landing field, for there were people about. Unfortunately, a dirty android was as conspicuous in a crowd as a clean one.

So he crept through the shadows, every sense alert for alarms. It seemed he had not yet been missed, for surely the shuttlecraft was the first place they would look for him. He found the hangar unguarded. It was locked, but there was no need to risk attracting attention by using his phaser; the simple external lock broke easily under android strength.

The shuttlecraft was gone.

There were many times that Data wished he were human, but none more so than when he needed an outlet for frustration. As false as his laughter was, his rare attempts to use expletives were even more so.

He should have known!

Wherever Nalavia had had the shuttle moved, he was quite sure it was not here at the landing field.

Which was more important, finding the shuttle and sending a message that the Enterprise would not receive for days, or locating Tasha? His friend and fellow crew member was certainly in danger. His first duty was to rescue her.

Except that he had only a ... was this what humans called a ”hunch”?

No, it was a logical deduction. Nalavia and Rikan were enemies. If Nalavia did not have Tasha-then the laws of probability said she was most likely in Rikan's clutches.

Data surveyed the flyers tethered nearby, chose a small, fast, versatile one, broke the external lock, picked the lock on the power source with a set of tools he found inside-although the owner probably had no idea they could be used for that purpose-and accessed its...o...b..ard computer. In seconds he knew who he was supposed to be-and in minutes had filed a flight plan this craft had flown many times before, was cleared with field control, and was wished a speedy flight as he took off into gathering darkness. He flew on the flight plan until he was out of sensor range, then sped east.

The flyer's scanning system did not notify him of the sensors at the outer perimeter of Rikan's territory, but they showed on his tricorder, which he had set to monitor all bands. A sophisticated system, much newer than anything at Nalavia's palace, but all such systems had their blind spots around the projectors. Few human pilots could have maneuvered a strange craft through the tiny null zone, but Data skimmed easily through it and continued toward his goal.

Rikan's stronghold sat on a cliff overlooking a steep chasm. Data sought access to computerized control of the small landing site ... but there was none! His infrared vision told him people were there instead, ready to fight off any aircraft that got through the perimeter defense, or perhaps guide an expected flyer down with lights.

How could they operate that way? Not all nights were as clear as this one; that tiny landing site would be inaccessible to most pilots much of the time without a guidance system. Might there be sensors here neither the flyer's nor his own equipment could detect? The people stood or walked casually about, seemingly unaware of him. They were too far away for even Vulcans to hear the soft swish of the flyer's antigravs, and he had turned off the running lights as soon as he pa.s.sed through the perimeter defenses.

He kept his distance, studying the layout of the buildings and grounds ... and the Starfleet shuttlecraft inside a wooden shed, hidden from normal vision but not infrared. So Nalavia had not moved the shuttle; Tasha's captors had.

Giving the impression that Tasha had left on her own.

Or ... was it only an impression?

No-Data had seen the signs of her struggle, and she was far too good an officer to leave without reporting to him. The presence of the shuttlecraft confirmed that Data was not on a ”wild goose chase.”

Still, there were personnel watching the skies, and some rather wicked-looking anti-aircraft weapons in one of the outbuildings. Data dared not circle Rikan's castle closely; he would have to leave the flyer and go in on foot.

Go up on foot.

Data found a clearing in the forest and set the flyer down, pulling the light craft in as close under the trees as he could, then piling branches over the parts still in the clear. If he and Tasha could not recapture their shuttle, they would have secondary transport.

But he had to find Tasha first.

It was a steep climb up to Rikan's castle, difficult for humans but not for an android. Data watched for surveillance devices, but no infrared glows indicated cameras, light beams, or other sensors. Rikan probably antic.i.p.ated attack by air, this approach was hardly suitable for an infantry a.s.sault.

Data finally reached the top of the plateau, and saw the castle through the trees. He crept forward, drawing his phaser as he approached the clearing- And was suddenly grasped from all sides at once, enmeshed and entangled and lifted into the air, to the accompaniment of raucous clanging!

Netted!

It took only microseconds for Data to realize that a net of natural fibers, the same temperature as the ground cover, had been hidden under leaves and twigs. It triggered when he stepped onto it. Bells attached to the ropes made the awful clangor when he moved.

Data's weight held the springy trees bent over, but he was nonetheless helpless as their motion dragged him to and fro.

Hopelessly tangled, Data flopped onto his back and struggled to bring his hands to grasp a section of rope and tear it apart. It was amazingly resilient, but could not hold against his android strength.

When it parted, though, it made only one tiny hole in the net-it would take too long to tear through the strands necessary to make a slit large enough to crawl through. He would have to phaser it.

His phaser was lying on his chest, the springy net hindering his attempt to grasp it. The bells clashed and clanged with every movement. Even as he tried to escape, people converged on him, weapons pointed.

He was surrounded by six people, male and female, armed with phasers, disruptors, and similar hand weapons. One of them of a Vulcanoid race, presumably the same man who had helped capture Tasha, moved in front of him. ”I'll take that phaser now-and don't get no fancy ideas, Robot. You might get me, but trussed up like that you ain't takin' out n.o.body else before my friends get you. Don't know what yer made outta, but I'd bet it can't take a blast from five weapons.”

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