Survivors - Jean Lorrah [78]
At least she knew better than to come out with it as Data had, held helplessly at gunpoint. So why had he-?
Rikan, of course. The warlord now knew who it was he had hired-but out here beyond Federation space the reputation Dare had gained as the Silver Paladin far outweighed whatever had made him leave the Federation. Data would probably not understand that to a world attempting to overthrow a ruthless tyrant, a ruthless criminal-provided he had the reputation “Adrian Dareau” did for reliability-might seem precisely the hired gun they needed.
Still, Data’s thinking that Rikan ought to know suggested that the android had discovered something after Yar was carried off … something that made him trust the warlord. Interesting.
“Very well,” Dare was saying, “I accept your word … conditionally. Would you join us then? Or perhaps you would prefer to get cleaned up first?”
In the stronger light, Data appeared even more of a disaster area, several different kinds of mud and dust on his skin and uniform, leaves and twigs in his hair. Obviously he had had an interesting time getting here. Data glanced down at his filthy uniform, then at the silk-upholstered furnishings. “I think I ought to clean up first. There is a great deal to tell.”
Rikan spoke. “Trell, give this man a room, and find him something to wear.” Then to Data. “Please come back as quickly as you can. We are pooling our information in an attempt to demonstrate that Nalavia has not told you the truth.”
“We knew that already,” said Data. “Tasha, there is even more. I will hurry, for it is very important.”
Yar remained huddled on the settee, suddenly feeling very much out of uniform. Data had steadfastly continued with his duties, while she—
Why should she feel guilty? Actually, she had continued with her duties as well, putting herself in a position to learn all about Rikan’s plans. She had sent a report to the Enterprise. Not a bad day’s work, really.
Data rejoined them, clean and dressed in trousers that bagged a bit, tucked into his own boots, with one of the loose shirts Dare’s men affected belted around his slender waist. He looked as if he were off on one of his play-acting kicks again, Yar thought-all he needed was a bandanna, an eyepatch, and a gold earring!
Fortunately, telepathy was not a part of Data’s programming. He sat, and accepted a glass of wine from Rikan, who seemed not in the least fazed to be host to an android. Yar recognized that she was watching true noblesse oblige in action, a tradition rarely seen in the galaxy today.
As Rikan was always Rikan, so Data was utterly himself, sniffing, then tasting the wine and commenting, “Excellent vintage-aged in wood, decanted-“
“Data!” Yar interrupted. “You have important information for us.”
“Yes,” he replied, setting the glass down and turning to business.
“One moment,” said Rikan. “I do not know your requirements, Mr. Data. Do you need food or other sustenance?”
“No, thank you, sir. I have had adequate nourishment today. And Lieutenant Yar is correct that I have information to impart.” He frowned. “Tasha, can we speak freely here?”
“These people are working to overthrow Nalavia, but claim they are not responsible for the terrorist attacks on her people.”
“They are not,” said Data. “I have copied all the data from Nalavia’s computer, including military files. All the attacks were performed by her own army, to discredit Rikan.”
Dare looked stunned, then delighted. “Mr. Data, despite our infortuitous introduction, I think I shall quickly grow to like you! What else did you find out?”
“A great deal. Of particular significance to our present situation is the fact that Nalavia’s term for her visitors from Starfleet is … hostages. She was considerably agitated when Tasha was discovered to be missing, and by now I assume she knows that I am also no longer in her palace.”
“Hostages,” mused Yar. “So that was her plan: If she couldn’t manipulate