Survivors - Jean Lorrah [67]
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 pass.
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 onboard 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