Survivors - Jean Lorrah [87]
“I understand,” said Data.
Rikan gave him a sad smile. “No, you do not, but you will … and perhaps sooner than you think. Data, you were created as what Adrian calls a ‘survivor.’ Jevsithian says that Adrian is a survivor, whether by fate or doom or simply strength of will. You heard the seer’s prophecy?”
“Such prophecies cannot be scientifically tested,” Data pointed out.
“But if it should come true, what do you think it means?”
“To win and yet lose? To win the battle, but die, I should think.”
“Possibly,” said Rikan. “We organic people are also capable of logic, Data. The first moment you saw Adrian you attempted to arrest him. I do not think you can shirk that duty, and the charges you named-murder, conspiracy, treason-are surely punishable by death.”
“The Federation has no death penalty,” Data explained.
Rikan closed his eyes with a shudder. “I feared as much. Incarceration, then, for the rest of his life.”
“Confinement to a rehabilitation colony,” Data said, “and only until he is cured of his aberration.”
“The name makes no difference. You do not know Adrian well yet. To lose his freedom would be far worse than death to such a man. And that, I think, is why the seer said he would first win all-which augurs well for Treva-and then lose.”
The brilliant old eyes opened again, looking at Data with a question in their depths. “Lord Rikan,” the android said, “please do not ask that of me. For all the good he may have done since, Darryl Adin did once turn traitor to everything he purported to believe in. If I neglected the opportunity to return him to Federation justice … I would be doing exactly the same thing.”
Tasha Yar spent the next two days with Darryl Adin, their old camaraderie reawakened as they plotted to substitute barrels of a placebo for the Riatine being carried to Treva’s cities. With the routes and schedules Data supplied, it was a simple operation: when each truck stopped and the operators left it to have a meal, it was surrounded by similar vehicles, shielding it from surveillance as its cargo was rapidly removed and replaced by placebo in identical containers. The operators of those other vehicles-all Trevans from Rikan’s territory-distracted their fellows of the road while the exchange was accomplished. Sdan, Poet, Aurora, and Pris provided means of disabling or fooling the vehicles’ sensors. Child’s play, as Data had put it, with their information, equipment, and expertise.
By dinnertime on the second day, all was accomplished without incident, everyone was back at Rikan’s castle, and good cheer reigned.
Yar and Data, of course, had not been allowed to go along. As Yar waited for Dare to return, she knew she had made a decision: he had outwitted her and Data both, and certainly had a plan devised for his own escape when his mission here was over. While she could not in good conscience just let him go, she would do nothing to anticipate his escape. She would simply trust him to plan something as unique as his trap for Data.
The android, meanwhile, was far quieter than usual. With the strategy room nearly empty, she missed the friendly talk they had shared on the way here. He suspects, she thought grimly. I wonder if he thinks I would actually aid Dare to escape? But she couldn’t ask; better to let Data worry about her loyalties than plot to prevent Dare’s escape.
After dinner, everyone crowded into Rikan’s parlor to continue the celebration. Thus it was easy for Dare and Yar to slip out to the balcony, and thence away from the noise to Rikan’s music room, where they had come before. Like the rest of the castle, it retained its ancient atmosphere and furnishings, while modern technology produced exquisite sound at the press of buttons hidden inside a small enamelled box on one of the tables.
Dare programmed up something soft and unobtrusive, and they sat talking quietly for a time. Finally, Dare said, “I want you with me, Tasha.”
“What?” she asked, startled, fearing