Part 17 (2/2)

Adin was the glue that bound his small coterie together, just as Jean-Luc Picard was for the crew of the Enterprise. Adin's role was more difficult than Picard's. Although his followers were few, they were even more diverse than the motley bridge crew Data served among, for they had no common loyalty to an ideal, such as Starfleet, to hold them together. In the course of that first day, Data heard them squabble interminably, but saw them work toward a common goal.

And through it all, nothing Adin did suggested that Data was less than a person. Only Geordi LaForge, of all the people Data knew, had accepted him so unquestioningly upon first acquaintance.

No, he suddenly realized, the warlord had done exactly the same thing. But Data had little contact with Rikan that day, while he and Adin worked side by side for hours.

Before time for dinner, they had a plan. Sdan and Poet left with some of Rikan's people to borrow vehicles from heavy transport companies in Rikan's territory. Barb and the Tellarites went off with a ”shopping list” for containers, paint, and stencils. Jevsithian had long since left them, while others had drifted in and out all day. Now Aurora joined Data at the computer, along with Pris Shenkley, the weapons designer, to go over the plan step by step for possible hazards.

Data could not help being aware when Adin and Tasha stopped partic.i.p.ating, and then quietly left the strategy room together.

But he saw them again at dinner, his first meal since yesterday's luncheon with Nalavia. By this time his organic components were ready for a nutritional boost, and his curiosity led him to sample everything on the table. Rikan's board was as lavish as Nalavia's; if he had not had other things on his mind, Data could have spent his time contentedly a.n.a.lyzing the ingredients which contributed to the wide variety of flavors.

However, his consciousness was occupied with the dinnertime conversation, expansion of their plan to sabotage Nalavia, and watching Tasha and Adin.

Tasha was wearing the long gold dress again. Aurora was resplendent in crimson, Pris in pale blue. Rikan wore a richly-embroidered tunic and coat over a s.h.i.+rt with an elegant fall of white lace. Adin was in his usual black, with a white s.h.i.+rt and his silver emblem, while Data, when everyone had gone to ”dress for dinner,” had considered changing back into his uniform, which he found clean and neatly hung up in the room he had been a.s.signed.

However, remembering the clothes he had seen last night, he put on what seemed most formal of the garments Trell had given him: jacket and trousers of deep gray-green, with a gold s.h.i.+rt almost exactly the color of his eyes. Tasha had smiled and said, ”You look gorgeous,” when she first saw him, but Data would have felt more comfortable in his dress uniform. He wondered what had happened to Tasha's.

The entire small group adjourned to Rikan's parlor after dinner. Pris Shenkley sat down next to Data and struck up a conversation.

”Why do you not work for the Federation?” he asked her.

”Because they would take control of my work away from me,” she replied. ”It is true that the Federation now builds only defensive weapons, and eschews aggression. However, I prefer to use my talent where I can control who uses my weapons.”

Data told her about the recent visit of the Enterprise to the planet Minos, and the weapon which had turned upon and destroyed its creators.

”Yes,” she said, ”I fear precisely that mentality. It is too easy to build better and better weapons, for no reason other than that one can do so. For Dare, I build precisely what is needed for a particular a.s.signment, not doomsday machines that compete only with themselves.”

”And will you build something for this plot to replace the Riatine?”

”No; everyone is already equipped with a variety of weapons they are familiar with. I designed the defenses for Rikan's castle, however.”

He tilted his head. ”Did you design the net used to capture me?”

She blushed faintly. ”Not design, exactly-but I suggested that you would probably not expect something so ... primitive. The net is actually a snare for a large Trevan animal. I thought it would be strong enough to hold you.” She smiled. ”I underestimated you. I didn't think it was possible to tear the strands of a quoghart net. If our people hadn't arrived quickly, you would have escaped.”

She took one of his hands, turning it to study back and palm. ”You are so strong ... and yet so gentle. Have you any idea how attractive that is?”

He almost said yes, as it seemed every woman he had ever been intimate with had made the same observation, but that observation reminded him to access his flirtation files, just in time. ”That is ... my nature.”

”Mmmm.” She studied the palm of his hand. ”You have fingerprints.”

”Yes. And yes, they are unique, or at least not copied from those of anyone in Federation records.”

”That's as it should be,” she said softly. ”You are unique.”

Data was surprised to find Pris flirting with him, but had to access only the main directory of his flirtation files to keep up. She obviously had no desire to go beyond a pleasant verbal give-and-take, not surprising on one day's acquaintance.

Besides, Data discovered, he did not want to go further. He pondered that. He understood why he wished to interact with Nalavia as little and as impersonally as possible: the woman was evil. But Pris, like the rest of Adin's gang, had no criminal record that he had ever come across. Why should he be reluctant to function intimately with her, should she desire it? He was, after all, designed to function in a wide variety of capacities. Pris was nothing like Nalavia; she showed no deviousness or cynicism.

At the thought, his attention strayed to Darryl Adin, who tonight sat beside Tasha on the settee. Tasha seemed to spend all her time with Adin now. The man was obviously attempting to reawaken feelings Tasha had once had for him, to overwhelm her reason and devotion to duty with memories of a past that could never be recaptured.

Adin leaned closer to Tasha, and Data accessed his directional microphone to hear him murmur, ”Let's go out onto the balcony.” They excused themselves to Rikan, and went out into the moonlit night. Data could still see them through the gla.s.s doors, leaning against the bal.u.s.trade and looking out over the night-black chasm. Adin put his arm around Tasha's bare shoulders, and she leaned against him, nothing more.

During all of this, Data had let his flirtation file entertain Pris-until she chuckled. ”You are cleverer at talking nonsense than any man I've ever met! Where did you learn it?”

Data checked the file he had been accessing. ”A modern adaptation of techniques detailed in the works of Jane Austen,” he replied honestly.

Pris laughed aloud. ”Well, it is utterly charming, and if I didn't have to be up early tomorrow morning I might ask you just what other techniques you happen to know. But then, you won't be leaving us for a while. I hope we will have the chance to get to know one another better.”

”That would please me as well,” he replied, but did not volunteer the answer to the question she had not quite asked.

The parlor was clearing out now, in deference, it appeared, to Rikan. Data noticed the old warlord's slightly stiffened posture as he forced himself to sit up straight.

When Data looked back at the balcony, Tasha and Adin were gone. In moments he would be alone with Rikan ... forgotten.

Data had nothing to do for the night. There was no library computer, no science lab to visit to feed his voracious curiosity.

He would go down to the strategy room, he decided. Someone would certainly be there, and perhaps he would be allowed to explore what else was in that very fine computer.

But when he went to bid goodnight to Rikan, the old man asked, ”Do you sleep, Mr. Data?”

”No, sir.”

”Then will you do me a favor?”

”Certainly, sir, if I can.”

”I am an old man. I don't suppose old age is something you will ever experience-but then neither will you have the pleasure of people indulging your whims simply because you are old.” Rikan looked up at him, eyes still clear and sharp. ”How old are you, Mr. Data?”

”Twenty-six Federation Standard Years, sir.”

The warlord's eyes widened. ”So young! Then you are just at the beginning of life's experience. But you have been many places among the stars, done more in those twenty-six years than I have in my long life.”

”That may be true, sir, especially as I was ... created ... as an adult. On the other hand, I never had the experience of being a child.”

”That is sad,” said Rikan. ”Childhood is the happiest of all times-or ought to be. But I am becoming forgetful. The favor I would ask is that you come to my room after Trell has helped me to bed. Although my body is tired, age robs me of the ability to sleep easily or well. Will you come and talk with me?”

”Gladly, sir.”

So when Trell informed him Rikan was ready, Data went to the warlord's room, keeping in mind the servant's caution, ”Please do not stay late. My lord needs to rest, for he will be up at dawn, no matter how few hours of sleep he has had.”

Ensconced in the large bed, Rikan seemed smaller and frailer than in his usual stiff clothing. He was propped up against the pillows. ”More wine?” he asked, pouring himself a gla.s.s and offering to do so for Data.

”No, thank you, sir. Alcohol has no effect on my metabolism. I have tasted your wines only to add to my experience of bouquets and flavors.”

The warlord smiled. ”You spend your life gathering data?”

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