Survivors - Jean Lorrah [26]
“Diplomacy is not one of my stronger areas of programming,” said Data.
“It’s definitely not one of mine!” Tasha replied. “Come to think of it, we’re rather an odd away team for this mission.”
“I have never known Captain Picard not to choose judiciously,” said Data.
“Neither have I. Let’s take a look at those broadcasts. Perhaps they’ll give us some clues as to what is going on.”
They did.
The occupants of the shuttlecraft spent the next two hours ignoring the glory of the starfield about them, eyes fixed on the steadily-improving image on the shuttle’s central viewscreen.
At first there were only entertainment broadcasts: a dance performance, an athletic event, and some dramas which made little sense taken in brief snatches out of context. All were interrupted from time to time by announcers urging viewers to purchase various products. Data recognized the “free Enterprise” system by which advertisers “sponsored” programming, paying the cost of preparing and broadcasting it in exchange for the right to lard it with promotions of their goods for sale.
“It is something like the transmission from Minos-” he began to explain.
Tasha nodded, cutting him off impatiently. “They probably got it from the Ferengi along with the broadcast equipment,” she said.
Data tried various frequencies, but found only more of the same until the end of the athletic competition. At that point there was interminable advertising of intoxicants, weapons, cosmetics, clothing, and private transportation. Then more intoxicants: beverages, inhalants, tablets, all promising instant happiness. Data noticed Tasha’s sudden silence and looked over to see her frowning. “This disturbs you?”
She took her attention from the screen. “Is life here that bad? Data, I understand how it can be. My own mother took drugs because her life was so harsh and hopeless. These people, though-they have honest work, enough to eat, homes and families. Drugs can only ruin those things.”
“Widespread chemical dependency was not in the report of the Federation Survey Team,” Data pointed out, putting Tasha’s statement about her mother together with the fact that she had abandoned her five-year-old child.
But Tasha clearly did not want to discuss her past. “Here comes a news broadcast, finally,” she said, and turned her attention back to the screen.
The feature story was the arrival the next day of representatives of the Federation, to aid in putting down the rebel insurrection.
“Rebel insurrection?” questioned Data.
“What happened to the warlords?” asked Tasha.
There was no mention of warlords in the broadcast-but there were some scenes showing “Starfleet in action”: a starship of the old Constitution class blasting a planet, personnel in uniforms from a century ago using ground weapons against Klingons, an ancient shot from the first war with the Romulans of a Federation battle cruiser blasting a Bird of Prey out of existence.
“They’re making us look like aggressors,” Tasha exclaimed. “Bullies. Murderers!”
“It is all quite real,” Data assured her, “but long out of date as well as edited to make Starfleet appear to be a war fleet.”
The announcer’s voice continued, “This is the power that will come to our aid if we persuade their representatives that we are worthy. We urge you to make the Federation welcome. The chief representatives in their delegation are Starfleet Commander Data and Security Chief Yar.”
“We’re the only representatives,” Tasha murmured. “And did you hear how they gave our titles, Data? It sounds as if we’re part of Starfleet Command.” She gasped suddenly. “Where did they get that?”
On the screen a younger version of Tasha Yar was shown on a ship’s bridge, phaser in hand, holding off an attacker too close to the camera to be seen clearly.
“That was the Starbound,” Tasha whispered. “My training cruise. Good God, where did they