Survivors - Jean Lorrah [84]
However, his consciousness was occupied with the dinnertime conversation, expansion of their plan to sabotage Nalavia, and watching Tasha and Adin.
Tasha was wearing the long gold dress again. Aurora was resplendent in crimson, Pris in pale blue. Rikan wore a richly-embroidered tunic and coat over a shirt with an elegant fall of white lace. Adin was in his usual black, with a white shirt and his silver emblem, while Data, when everyone had gone to “dress for dinner,” had considered changing back into his uniform, which he found clean and neatly hung up in the room he had been assigned.
However, remembering the clothes he had seen last night, he put on what seemed most formal of the garments Trell had given him: jacket and trousers of deep gray-green, with a gold shirt almost exactly the color of his eyes. Tasha had smiled and said, “You look gorgeous,” when she first saw him, but Data would have felt more comfortable in his dress uniform. He wondered what had happened to Tasha’s.
The entire small group adjourned to Rikan’s parlor after dinner. Pris Shenkley sat down next to Data and struck up a conversation.
“Why do you not work for the Federation?” he asked her.
“Because they would take control of my work away from me,” she replied. “It is true that the Federation now builds only defensive weapons, and eschews aggression. However, I prefer to use my talent where I can control who uses my weapons.”
Data told her about the recent visit of the Enterprise to the planet Minos, and the weapon which had turned upon and destroyed its creators.
“Yes,” she said, “I fear precisely that mentality. It is too easy to build better and better weapons, for no reason other than that one can do so. For Dare, I build precisely what is needed for a particular assignment, not doomsday machines that compete only with themselves.”
“And will you build something for this plot to replace the Riatine?”
“No; everyone is already equipped with a variety of weapons they are familiar with. I designed the defenses for Rikan’s castle, however.”
He tilted his head. “Did you design the net used to capture me?”
She blushed faintly. “Not design, exactly-but I suggested that you would probably not expect something so … primitive. The net is actually a snare for a large Trevan animal. I thought it would be strong enough to hold you.” She smiled. “I underestimated you. I didn’t think it was possible to tear the strands of a quoghart net. If our people hadn’t arrived quickly, you would have escaped.”
She took one of his hands, turning it to study back and palm. “You are so strong … and yet so gentle. Have you any idea how attractive that is?”
He almost said yes, as it seemed every woman he had ever been intimate with had made the same observation, but that observation reminded him to access his flirtation files, just in time. “That is … my nature.”
“Mmmm.” She studied the palm of his hand. “You have fingerprints.”
“Yes. And yes, they are unique, or at least not copied from those of anyone in Federation records.”
“That’s as it should be,” she said softly. “You are unique.”
Data was surprised to find Pris flirting with him, but had to access only the main directory of his flirtation files to keep up. She obviously had no desire to go beyond a pleasant verbal give-and-take, not surprising on one day’s acquaintance.
Besides, Data discovered, he did not want to go further. He pondered that. He understood why he wished to interact with Nalavia as little and as impersonally as possible: the woman was evil. But Pris, like the rest of Adin’s gang, had no criminal record that he had ever come across. Why should he be reluctant to function intimately with her, should she desire it? He was, after all,