Star Trek - Survivors Part 5

She laughed. "Hardly. Actually, he looked rather like you." Then, "Oh! That didn't come out right!"

Data was puzzled by her reaction. "So far as I can determine, my appearance is an approximation of the human male norm-stature, facial structure, hair coloring a composite of the many human races. In purely organic beings, of course, no one meets that norm. And obviously I was not designed to fool anyone into thinking me human-my skin color is simply the most efficient for absorption of energy, and my eyes are clearly-" He stopped. "Forgive me. I am babbling."

But Tasha was smiling at him. "You're not so much average as ideal," she said. "Or maybe I just feel that way because you do look something like the ... first man I ever loved. First love is never forgotten, Data."

He had the distinct impression that she had begun to say "only" instead of "first." But that was too near a topic he could not reopen. So he said, "I am not handsome."

"Conventionally? No-but that doesn't bother you a bit, does it?"

"Handsome is as handsome does," he replied. "Beauty is only skin deep. Beauty is in the eye of-"

He stopped when, as he hoped, Tasha chuckled. When he had first discovered that accessing his memory banks for a list of definitions or examples provoked laughter in humans-unless the situation was tense, in which case it elicited annoyance-he had turned to studies on humor and for once found an a.n.a.lysis he could comprehend: repet.i.tion of a pattern soon became amusing to humans, familiarity causing rea.s.surance and relaxation. Once Data understood that, he frequently used the technique to defuse an uncomfortable situation.

This time, however, it did not distract Tasha. She continued on the same topic: "Why should it bother you not to be designed like a Starfleet recruiting poster, when more women throw themselves at you than at Will Riker?"

"Women do not-"

"Come on, Data-don't pretend you don't notice!"

Not knowing how to handle this turn of the conversation, he said, "I do not think women judge men by appearance so much as men judge women."

"As usual," said Tasha, "your observations are quite accurate-at least for humans. Remember what you said about how a.s.sociating certain foods with pleasant occasions causes you to like those flavors when you encounter them again?"

"Yes," Data said uncertainly, trying to make connections, food/aphrodisiacs/beauty, that didn't seem logical. Then Tasha continued, and he saw that she meant something quite different.

"That's something like how women see men. We think those men are handsome who look like the men we've loved. Psychologists say most women like men who resemble their fathers. Well, I didn't have a father, so I suppose I will always find attractive anyone who looks like the first man who was ever good to me." She grinned impishly. "I'm afraid that you'll have to put up with me thinking you're handsome, Data."

"I ... will consider it a compliment," he replied, and grasped the opportunity to discuss his current topic of study. "Among humans there are more generally agreed-upon standards for female than for male beauty."

"That's right," she told him.

"You are beautiful," he said.

She seemed startled. "Some people think so."

"It is generally agreed upon among the bridge crew. Yet you are quite different in appearance from Counselor Troi, who is also universally admired. Captain Picard thinks that Dr. Crusher is beautiful, while her son finds that fact both incomprehensible and disturbing."

"Data-what have you been doing?" Tasha asked in dismay. "Taking a poll?"

"Yes," he replied honestly. "I wish to comprehend human ideals of beauty."

"You really do believe in wishing for the impossible, don't you?"

He tilted his head. "Is it impossible? I realize that there can never be total agreement in matters of esthetic judgment, but surely there is a formula by which I can determine that, say, a majority of humans would consider a particular person beautiful. I find Commander Riker a most useful barometer of feminine beauty; thus far I have never found the majority, or even a significant minority, disagreeing with his a.s.sessment. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to ask him about President Nalavia."

Tasha laughed. "Oh, I can tell you what he'd say about her, Data-and if you surveyed the entire complement of the Enterprise, you would find a significant minority indeed disagreeing with him!"

"I do not understand," said Data.

"Every man aboard would say she is beautiful, and every woman would say she is not. Furthermore, all the women would be lying!"

"Tasha, you are confusing me," Data objected.

"Nalavia is the kind of woman," Tasha explained, "who by her nature attracts the attention of human males. She's ... practically an archetypal figure of the Earth-mother, but young and unmarked by strife or care. And she exploits it. That's the difference between Nalavia and Deanna, who has a similar physical beauty. Deanna combines the no nonsense att.i.tude of a Starfleet officer with the motherly sentiment that is part of her job as Counselor. Together they defuse the threat of her physical beauty."

"Threat?" Data questioned.

"Deanna is almost too beautiful," Tasha explained. "It could make men afraid to approach her. She handles it by being friendly and efficient. That's why the women on board like and trust her as much as the men do. Nalavia, though ... right through the viewscreen she was issuing an invitation to every human male on the Enterprise bridge."

Data replayed the scene in his mind. Yes-the human men had all come to a sort of stunned attention. "Still, no one accepted it," he pointed out.

"Starfleet trains its officers, male or female, never to think with their hormones. But have you ever before known Wesley Crusher to become that fl.u.s.tered in a non-crisis situation? Poor kid-he hasn't had that training, and he's in the middle of p.u.b.erty. He didn't stand a chance."

"Ah," said Data, intrigued. "Now I understand. I have never known Wesley to make as unlikely an a.s.sumption as that the Captain would send him on an away team to an unfamiliar planet."

"Oh, Wesley wanted to go!" said Tasha. "He just didn't know why-but all the other men on the bridge did, and Captain Picard really shouldn't have been so hard on him. Wesley will be a fine man one day-if he just manages to live to grow up."

Data caught himself before protesting that Captain Picard would never send their Acting Ensign into danger, recognizing that Tasha spoke jokingly. He took time to a.n.a.lyze it, relishing this opportunity to discuss human feelings with a female friend. "You mean that his combination of youth and intellect is resented, and that therefore some person or persons aboard might consider disposing of him out of annoyance. However, you make the suggestion facetiously."

"Exactly right, Data," she said, "but a.n.a.lyzing it spoils the joke, which wasn't very funny to begin with."

He nodded. "Humor is difficult enough, without trying to distinguish degrees of funniness."

Tasha smiled. "You'll learn, Data," she said. "Through experience, like anyone else. Now, how long before we can begin to monitor transmissions from Treva?"

"Not for more than sixteen hours, unless they send us a subs.p.a.ce message." He frowned. "What do you suspect, Tasha?"

"Nothing specific. Call it intuition. I don't think Nalavia told us the whole truth."

"Obviously she could not in such a brief message."

"No-that's not what I mean. I'd call it female intuition, except that Captain Picard noticed as well. There is something about Nalavia which inspires distrust."

"Can you delineate what it is?" Data asked.

"Expecting Starfleet to do her bidding without a full investigation, for one thing."

"Trevan culture is fairly primitive," said Data. "Warlords protesting the advance to a representative form of government. Even a seasoned politician on such a planet may be unsophisticated by our standards. Or we may be missing a piece of information-there are cultures in which a cry for help from the weak impels the strong to protect them."

"Camelot," said Tasha with a nod, referring to a planet founded upon the ideals of a chivalry which, to the best of historical knowledge, had never before been widely practiced outside of legend. "Yes, it could be that we are unaware of some basic Trevan a.s.sumption, but if you did not find it in the reports of the Federation Survey Team, Data, I cannot imagine what it would be."

Unable to learn anything more for sixteen hours, Tasha exercised, slept, and ate another meal. Data had no need for further organic nutrients yet. Sometimes they talked, and sometimes there were companionable silences. The shuttlecraft proceeded on course. Every twelve hours, Data sent the routine "proceeding as scheduled" message to the Enterprise.

Finally, they came into the extreme range at which Data could monitor Treva's radio transmissions. Such sound transmissions over the entire main continent were a well-established technology here. What was new was the transmission of pictures along with sound, and when Data tested frequencies and configurations he quickly discovered, "They are using the Ferengi broadcast technique!"

"The Ferengi trade everywhere," Tasha reminded him. "Until they join the Federation, there is no reason for the Trevans not to do business with them."

"But if they trade with both the Federation and the Ferengi, what if they have asked both for help?"

Data saw Tasha set her jaw. "We'll deal with whatever situation we discover, once we get there. The Ferengi probably see no profit in helping the Trevans with their internal affairs. If barriers to trade with the Ferengi and other non-Federation cultures were the reason Treva hesitated to proceed with their application for membership, they may be more amenable if we help them solve their problems."

"Diplomacy is not one of my stronger areas of programming," said Data.

"It's definitely not one of mine!" Tasha replied. "Come to think of it, we're rather an odd away team for this mission."

"I have never known Captain Picard not to choose judiciously," said Data.

"Neither have I. Let's take a look at those broadcasts. Perhaps they'll give us some clues as to what is going on."

They did.

The occupants of the shuttlecraft spent the next two hours ignoring the glory of the starfield about them, eyes fixed on the steadily-improving image on the shuttle's central viewscreen.

At first there were only entertainment broadcasts: a dance performance, an athletic event, and some dramas which made little sense taken in brief s.n.a.t.c.hes out of context. All were interrupted from time to time by announcers urging viewers to purchase various products. Data recognized the "free Enterprise" system by which advertisers "sponsored" programming, paying the cost of preparing and broadcasting it in exchange for the right to lard it with promotions of their goods for sale.

"It is something like the transmission from Minos-" he began to explain.

Tasha nodded, cutting him off impatiently. "They probably got it from the Ferengi along with the broadcast equipment," she said.

Data tried various frequencies, but found only more of the same until the end of the athletic compet.i.tion. At that point there was interminable advertising of intoxicants, weapons, cosmetics, clothing, and private transportation. Then more intoxicants: beverages, inhalants, tablets, all promising instant happiness. Data noticed Tasha's sudden silence and looked over to see her frowning. "This disturbs you?"

She took her attention from the screen. "Is life here that bad? Data, I understand how it can be. My own mother took drugs because her life was so harsh and hopeless. These people, though-they have honest work, enough to eat, homes and families. Drugs can only ruin those things."

"Widespread chemical dependency was not in the report of the Federation Survey Team," Data pointed out, putting Tasha's statement about her mother together with the fact that she had abandoned her five-year-old child.

But Tasha clearly did not want to discuss her past. "Here comes a news broadcast, finally," she said, and turned her attention back to the screen.

The feature story was the arrival the next day of representatives of the Federation, to aid in putting down the rebel insurrection.

"Rebel insurrection?" questioned Data.

"What happened to the warlords?" asked Tasha.

There was no mention of warlords in the broadcast-but there were some scenes showing "Starfleet in action": a starship of the old Const.i.tution cla.s.s blasting a planet, personnel in uniforms from a century ago using ground weapons against Klingons, an ancient shot from the first war with the Romulans of a Federation battle cruiser blasting a Bird of Prey out of existence.

"They're making us look like aggressors," Tasha exclaimed. "Bullies. Murderers!"

"It is all quite real," Data a.s.sured her, "but long out of date as well as edited to make Starfleet appear to be a war fleet."

The announcer's voice continued, "This is the power that will come to our aid if we persuade their representatives that we are worthy. We urge you to make the Federation welcome. The chief representatives in their delegation are Starfleet Commander Data and Security Chief Yar."

"We're the only representatives," Tasha murmured. "And did you hear how they gave our t.i.tles, Data? It sounds as if we're part of Starfleet Command." She gasped suddenly. "Where did they get that?"

On the screen a younger version of Tasha Yar was shown on a ship's bridge, phaser in hand, holding off an attacker too close to the camera to be seen clearly.

"That was the Starbound," Tasha whispered. "My training cruise. Good G.o.d, where did they get that scene?"

"For young Tasha Yar," the announcer's voice was saying, "her very first a.s.signment became an opportunity for heroism when she saved fellow crew members after their ship was attacked and boarded by a ruthless enemy."

Phaser fire exploded around her, but Tasha stood her ground with grim determination, no hint of fear in the young eyes. The attacker lunged toward her, she fired, and the scene ended in a flare of camera-overload.

"They don't show the rest of the Starbound bridge crew falling around me," Tasha said grimly. "Saved fellow crew members, indeed. It was Dare who-"

She stopped abruptly, and Data stored the comment for future consideration as he let his attention remain with the Trevan news broadcast.

Tasha was next shown in recent records, in her duties aboard the Enterprise.

Then the scene shifted to Data-in a test made at Starfleet Academy. He was shown lifting three, four, and then five of his cla.s.smates, looking bewildered as to why such a demonstration was asked of him. He remembered: he had been bewildered at the unscientific experiment, having already been through tests which accurately measured his strength and resiliency. Later he learned that the scene became part of the information Starfleet released about him to non-scientists, especially to schools. One of his early a.s.signments, before he was a.s.signed to serve aboard a starship, had been as Starfleet Education Representative to schools all over the solar system.

"At least I know where they got this information," he told Tasha. "Starfleet probably still sends it out to anyone who asks about me. It is also years out of date, and ... I am not sure why seeing it again now ... disturbs me."

"Because it treats you like an object rather than a person," Tasha responded instantly. "And by the way, Starfleet does not provide this stuff in your dossier today. I've never seen it before; I'm sure it's buried in the archives as an embarra.s.sment Starfleet Command would rather forget. You're a valued officer now, not a curious piece of equipment they're not sure how to use."

But the rest of the broadcast on Data was no better than that about Tasha. He, too, was shown fighting, shooting-each time appearing to be aggressive and very, very dangerous.

"With the help of Starfleet," the announcer continued, "we will rid our peaceful planet of the rebels who oppose our way of life and attempt to take power over us all. In Tongaruca only today, rebels attacked villagers gathered for the weekly market-"

The scene showed a crowded marketplace devastated when an explosion suddenly went up in its midst. People fled, screaming, right into a circle of well-armed men and women who seemed to take great pleasure in clubbing and stabbing the unarmed citizens, phasering those with the fort.i.tude to fight back.

Data frowned. "These 'rebels' have phasers. Why does Nalavia not have an armed force of her own, to protect her people from such attacks?"

"Just one of the things we need to find out," replied Tasha. "Such as how warlords have metamorphosed into rebels. What do you suppose they are rebelling against?"

There was no answer to her question, but there was to Data's as well-armed soldiers in ground vehicles arrived at the devastated marketplace and drove off the rebels. None of their shots seemed to connect, however, the original attackers escaped, and the soldiers turned to aiding the survivors.

Data turned away from the broadcast. "If these local news stories are as carefully edited as the ones about you and me-"

"The terms you're looking for," Tasha said grimly, "are 'slanted' and 'biased.' I wonder whether Treva has a free press."

"They claim to," Data told her. "Do you think the journalists oppose Starfleet's aid, and are therefore trying to portray us as representatives of a military force?"

"Perhaps," said Tasha, "whoever prepared those reports thinks the audience wants someone to come in and smash their enemies." She shrugged. "Possibly they do. Their own soldiers seem remarkably ineffective."

"But their journalists remarkably effective," Data observed. "They were prepared to record that attack before it began."

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 a.s.sortment. 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."