Survivors - Jean Lorrah [12]
“Oh.” Data saw that Tasha was disappointed, but trying to hide it.
So he added, “I have found, though, that over time I have come to associate certain foods with certain events. Stimulating lessons, intriguing problems, pleasant company. When I later encounter similar flavors, I find that I have developed a preference for them.” He smiled. “I expect I will develop a liking for all these foods.”
Tasha gave him an acknowledging grin, and began to eat.
But to Data’s disappointment she dropped the topic of their individual choices of Starfleet, to speak in general of the sector of space they were traveling through. Out here, that was the equivalent of “talking about the weather” on a planet: a neutral topic of conversation that would not stir any strong emotions to disturb digestion.
Intriguing. Data let his attention wander as he nibbled at the food. He required few calories to maintain the organic nutrients that served him in lieu of blood, but he understood meals as social interaction.
Data had no strong emotions regarding his choice of Starfleet or his years at the Academy-although if he had been as aware of human sarcasm then as he was now, he might have developed some. Obviously Tasha had. Data had thought her experiences completely positive. She always spoke of being rescued by Starfleet, and her loyalty to its ideals resembled the devotion of a true believer to a deeply satisfying religion.
Curiosity was Data’s great failing. When he had first become conscious, it had been indiscriminating-records of four centuries of baseball statistics had held the same fascination as the history of a star about to go nova.
Eventually, though, he had learned to place priorities on what he learned-and recently a personal priority had become the understanding of those people he had come to call his friends. He sensed now that there was something he had never guessed concerning Tasha Yar and Starfleet-and instantly he wanted to know it.
So when they had finished eating, as he gathered the containers and put them in the disposer he said, “Although it was quite nutritionally sound, a meal like that would draw stares for both of us in the Academy mess hall.”
“It wouldn’t bother me today,” Tasha replied comfortably. “I was a wild thing when I was admitted, Data. It was only a probationary appointment, and as I think back I really don’t know how I managed not to get shipped out that first year. I failed the Ethics and Moral Principles course-I simply could not accept, even as a hypothesis on which to base a reasoned argument, the belief that Life is sacred. Everywhere.”
Data stared, tilting his head. “I also failed that course in my first attempt,” he replied. “I found it impossible to challenge that tenet, even when the instructor assigned me to take the opposite position in debate.”
Tasha frowned. “You learned to challenge it?”
“To challenge it, yes-for each challenge met merely strengthens its truth. Only after I understood that was I able to pass the course.”
Tasha nodded. “It met my challenges-as soon as I started questioning instead of assuming. Where I grew up, life certainly wasn’t considered sacred. It’s hard to give up the beliefs instilled by childhood experiences.”
“I would not know. I was simply programmed with the belief.” Data frowned. “As my brother was not. Lore thought … that made him more human than I.”
“He was wrong!” Tasha said vehemently. “When I was rescued from New Paris, right through my first term at the Academy, I was less human than you are, Data. If it weren’t for Darryl Adin-” She stopped, grimacing slightly, her skin paling. Her fists clenched. “I still can’t accept-“
But her words trailed off, and Data recognized that she did not intend to go on.
However, he had accessed the records of the entire crew the moment he came aboard the Enterprise, and so he knew, “Darryl Adin, Security Chief of the U.S.S. Cochrane, exploratory vessel which rediscovered the lost Earth colony of New Paris.