Survivors - Jean Lorrah [28]
Tasha’s eyes widened. “You’re right! Data, it just doesn’t make sense-unless, of course, the journalist sides with the rebels and is trying to show that they are invincible … no. He wouldn’t want to show them as terrorists, then. But attempting to show us as little better would make sense.” She sighed. “I can’t figure it out.”
“Neither can I. Insufficient information.” He turned back to the viewscreen, but the broadcast had turned to a weather forecast, which was followed by another program of musical entertainment. Other frequencies brought more of the same, except that a lesson in botany was added to the assortment. He turned the viewscreen off. “I do not think we will learn much more until we land on Treva.”
The next day, when they neared Treva, Lieutenant Tasha Yar called up the broadcasts onto the viewscreen again. There was the same entertainment fare; only the news programs were different. Everything was prepared for their arrival. Tight security measures were in force, as the enemies of the people might attempt to attack the Starfleet representatives.
“That is interesting,” Data observed. “Not warlords now, and not rebels. Enemies of the people.”
Furthermore, when the old records of Data and Yar were replayed, this time instead of segueing into the two in battle they faded into recent records from Starbase 74, showing Yar excelling in the game of Parrises Squares.
Data was shown demonstrating, with inhuman patience, the operation of the Enterprise educational computer to four young children from the ship’s families.
“Now this stuff,” said Yar, “is what Starfleet probably provided on us. Quite a different picture from yesterday.”
“Indeed,” Data replied. “Either they did not expect us to be monitoring them yesterday-“
“- or they didn’t think we were capable,” Yar mused.
“The shuttle isn’t,” Data confirmed. “Not the weak signals Treva’s broadcast system puts out. I enhanced them. At our present distance, though, they expect us to be watching.” He looked over at her with puzzled innocence. “Why would Treva’s press present a distorted picture of us yesterday, but an accurate if incomplete one today?”
“A free press likely wouldn’t,” Yar replied. “It’s evidence, although not absolute proof, that Nalavia controls what is broadcast.”
Data gave one of his mechanical nods, indicating that he was storing information he had not yet analyzed, and turned back to the screen. Watching him in profile, Yar saw again the resemblance to her former mentor-but until the moment yesterday when she had blurted it out she had not been conscious of it. Even if Data’s skin were flesh-colored, no one would take him for Dare-but they were the same type: medium height, slender build, with striking similarities of feature. Both had the sharp brow bone, heavy-lidded eyes, large straight nose, and firm jaw, although Data’s chin was not as strong as Dare’s. Their mouths were completely different, Dare’s his saving grace, the full, curving lips producing a smile so devastating no woman could resist … but when he was angry a snarl that made brave men search for cover.
Data had neither of those expressions. His lips were pale and thin-although Yar knew from experience that they could be exquisitely sensuous when applied topically. But the android never smiled broadly, never grinned. Life experience had not yet taught him the feelings to provoke those expressions. Likewise, she had never seen Data more than mildly angry-perhaps no more than annoyed. No one would ever look into Data’s face and see it as frightening, threatening. Darryl Adin’s anger was both-and the memory of that expression was seared into Yar’s memory, for he had worn it both the first time she had ever seen him, and the last. The first time his anger had been directed at the rape gang on New Paris. The last time, it had been at her.
Data turned, looking puzzled, and Yar realized she had been staring intently at him. His wide light-gold eyes with their large pupils were his least human feature. She wondered if, as