“A virus they were blessed with while destroying our planet!” Zhad interrupted.
“That’s all in the past,” Picard said. “The treaties were signed twenty years ago. The war is over. Perhaps that is what distresses you. So much hate, so much anger . . . and no one to kill.”
“You are mistaken, Picard.” Zhad burned Kadar with a glare. “I have someone to kill.”
“Not here, Zhad. Not on this planet, and not in Federation space.”
“Velex isn’t a Federation colony,” Urosk countered. It was the first time the Hidran captain had spoken in more than an hour. Riker had expected him to be one of the more vocal delegates, but he hadn’t been.
“Velex is a Federation protectorate,” Picard corrected firmly, “and there is a starship in orbit.”
With that threat Picard let the anxiety grow. That the delegates weren’t human didn’t matter—apprehension showed on every alien face.
Picard began moving around the hall, stalking, closing in on each side as he spoke. “This is the way it’s going to work, gentlemen. The Klingon Empire will supply an amount of aridium that will be determined and collected by the Federation. On the Hidran side,” he said, holding the back of Zhad’s chair, “Ambassador, your government will give the vaccine to us, and when both sides have contributed, they will receive the supplies they need.”
Zhad twisted around in his seat. “What is to gain by these talks if we get nothing but the aridium? Will they stop raiding our outer planets’ mining colonies? Will they continue to harass our vessels?”
“I don’t know, Ambassador,” Picard said frankly, “and I truly do not care. I can tell you that you gain your life, and the lives of your people. Your power plants will safely produce the energy your society needs.”
“And Kadar gains the health of his people,” Riker said, a more relaxed thumb over his phaser’s trigger. The captain hadn’t really needed his help, but two rational voices were always better than one.
Picard nodded. “The Klingons will get the vaccine for a crippling disease that neither kills nor is curable.”
“We will not consent to this,” Kadar said. “They must agree not to attack our mining ships.”
Zhad gripped the arms of his chair until his fingers were a bright pink. “The mining ships that destroy the planets of our system! We will not agree unless they arrest all mining!”
“Enough!” Picard barked, moving back to the head of the table. “The only terms of this agreement have already been stated. The Hidran get the aridium, the Klingons get the vaccine. That is all. It is agreed.”
“It is not agreed!” Zhad wailed. “You have no right to delegate terms to us, Picard.”
“Really, Picard! How dare you presume to tell us when we agree—”
“To what, Kadar?” Picard asked. “To survive?”
Kadar and Zhad exchanged a hateful look, then turned it to Picard. The captain appeared to be struggling to keep a smile from his lips. He had achieved his goal and angered the two parties into working together—against him. They were finally joined in something, Riker thought—their resentment of the captain.
“You will agree to these terms or the Federation will not help at all,” Picard said as his comm badge sounded. He hit it immediately. “Not now,” he snapped, and stabbed it back off.
“Perhaps the Federation’s help is bought at too high a price,” Zhad hissed.
“Perhaps,” Picard agreed bitterly. “Perhaps it will take your cities growing dark and your people freezing before you put behind you the prejudice of a war twenty years passed.” The captain then spun about toward Kadar. “And perhaps it will take a disease destroying your fleet before you can do the same.”
Kadar averted his gaze.
Zhad looked down at his ruby fist for nearly a full minute. Then, in his first calm moment since his arrival on Velex, he said, “You seem to leave us without alternative. But let me tell you this, Picard. You and the Federation have much to learn. You think that because you have had a form of peace with the Klingons for some time that they are like you. You are wrong. You may be worthy of trust, Captain . . . but it is naive of you to think the Klingons are the same.” The ambassador rose slowly, calmly. “I suspect you will regret your dealings with the Klingons, Picard. I know I will.”
Chapter Three
“I APPRECIATE THIS, CAPTAIN,” Barbara said. “Private operations so far out just don’t see state-of-the-art equipment.”
She gestured to the small cluster of makeshift buildings that made up the Velexian industrial colony. Except for the ancient meeting hall, they were sparse boxy structures, built more for function than form. She gave Riker and Picard the grand tour, all five minutes of it, and diminished her accomplishment at building it all in a week’s time. That wasn’t what she was here to do. Anyone, she thought, could dig a hole and pitch a tent—colonies had been popping up everywhere for hundreds of years.
But Barbara was supposed to be investigating the planet’s native crops, not just starting a colony. She wanted to get past building labs and opening boxes. She’d run into difficulty, and she worried about explaining her problems to those who had hired her—at her insistence—to market the Velexian grain.
“We set up a few labs with some basic equipment,” she said, “but resources are tight. I’m hoping the reason we can’t scan the indigenous flora is because our equipment is inadequate.”
Captain Picard looked over the colony as if he himself were scanning it with sensors. “My science department reports that we are unable to scan your grain as well. It may contain some native compounds that evade traditional scans. Commander Data wanted to do a crust/core sample before we left to see if we could isolate the substance.”
“Perhaps we could work together, Captain?”
“We’re always willing to share our facilities as time provides, Doctor,” Picard said.
“If your facilities can help me figure that out, I’ll be indebted.” Barbara pointed toward the rolling saffron-colored grain that could be seen at the eastern edge of the camp. Where the dirt path ended, grain began, and ran into the horizon. It waved her forward, stalks of jasmine swaying and calling in the breeze. They paraded down to the edge of the camp, where the field began suddenly, an army of wheat marching to the tune of the wind.
Picard plucked a stalk out of the ground and turned it back and forth in his fingers. “It looks like normal grain. What’s so mysterious beyond the sensor problem?” He handed the tawny stem to Riker.
Hands behind her back, unwilling to touch it herself, Barbara said, “Well, it grows in soil that has few nutrients. We tried transplanting on our second day here, to see if it would grow on other planets, in systems closer to the trade routes. It withered and died the next day.” She lowered her voice and glared out at the field. “As far as we can tell, it shouldn’t be growing here at all. Nothing should.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t done my homework,” Riker said. “What’s so important about this particular grain?”
“Everyone wants it, Mr. Riker. I admit I didn’t believe the myths and stories myself, but I tried it personally earlier this week. It has the strongest medicinal effects of any unprocessed naturally growing flora ever discovered. When ingested . . . well, it has a measurable effect on your health.”
“You mean it makes you feel better,” Riker said.
“No,” she corrected. “You actually get better. Nothing miraculous that we’ve found yet, but we’ve measured some physiological improvements. The effect varies from person to person and species to species.”
“How does it work?”
“I honestly have no idea,” she said quietly. “That’s why I agreed to host this circus you call diplomacy. I need your computers, Mr. Riker. I need your technicians. I need your assistance. And if I can’t solve this one little problem, I’ll need another job.”
“I’m sorry. I hope we can help.” Riker pressed her shoulder and guided her away from the grain. He preferred her spi
rited smile to the frown that touched her lips now. “We should be getting back.”
She nodded and they started toward the meeting hall, three pairs of boots plodding along the gritty stone street. “Captain, I can set up some simulations and tests and leave them running, if you’ll allow. Once the initial data is in, I’ll return for the feast we’re having tonight. Despite little to celebrate, I’ve been talked into commemorating our first week here. You, the delegates, and any members of your crew who wish to, are welcome to attend.”
“I appreciate your hospitality, Doctor,” Picard said. “It might be just the thing to keep our friends occupied while we await final treaty confirmation from the Hidran government. I only hope the use of our research labs can return the favor to you.”
As Riker held open one of the thick wooden doors to the hall and allowed Barbara and Picard to enter, she smiled, that certain kind of glint in her eye again. “Perhaps Commander Riker will return the favor.”
Riker flashed his best “little-ol’-me?” grin. “Whatever I can do . . .”
“Be my escort tonight?”
After the slightest nod from Picard, Riker said, “I’d be honored.”
She turned smoothly on a heel, her silver-blond hair swinging softly behind her. “I should be back by three o’clock. Anyone here can tell you where my home is. Will you meet me there?”
Before Riker had the chance to answer, she was back out the door, and he and Picard were alone.
The captain crossed his arms. “Three o’clock is closer to teatime than suppertime, Number One.”
Riker shrugged and his brows went up. “Would you argue with her?”
“Deck twelve.”
Data’s order to the lift barely allowed Barbara to slip between the doors before they began to close.
“I am sorry, Doctor. I did not realize you might be unaccustomed to the turbolifts.”
“I’m not usually. I should have been watching,” Barbara said, trying not to stare at him.
There wasn’t a scientist in the Federation who hadn’t heard of the android who’d joined Starfleet, but relatively few got to meet him. Sure, there were interviews and early studies, every once in a while “A Discussion with Lieutenant Commander Data” would be the cover story of some tech journal, but he was hardly at the beck and call of anyone with curiosity.
What surprised her so was that he hadn’t anticipated her hesitation into the lift. Wasn’t he an advanced calculator with legs? Wasn’t he supposed to consider everything? That’s what computers were for—to search out possibilities and run them down to conclusions. It was the reason she was begging time from a Starfleet supercomputer. So that nothing would be left out.
She averted her gaze from him—it?—and studied the slit between the lift doors. What did one say to an android? Did computers do small talk?
Anything was better than silence.
“I appreciate all your help, Commander.”
The lift doors opened and this time he waited for her to exit. “I am happy to assist you, Doctor. The captain ordered me to investigate the Hidran side of the Klingon-Hidran conflict. I have downloaded their own history texts and can easily view them from the research lab you will be using.”
She smiled, a bit more nervously than she would have liked, and they started down the corridor. Happy. He was happy to assist. Just using an expression?
“How close are you to marketing the grain,” Data asked.
Barbara looked up at him curiously. “You know about our plans to harvest for marketing?”
The android nodded. “I requested information from your company regarding Velex when we were ordered to this sector.”
One thing was clear—Data learned fast: at the research lab he held his hand over the open door and waited for her to enter.
The android waved her in. “Right in here, Doctor. This should suit your needs.”
Beyond his pale hand was the finest, brightest computer Valhalla that Barbara had ever seen. She was impressed not only with the bank of computers and equipment that was now at her fingertips, but that such things, like the android next to her, were possible. She felt as if she had been years away from such new technology. And she wasn’t likely to see any soon. They just didn’t risk new equipment on long-shot colonies in the middle of nowhere.
She stepped into the lab, unable to imagine any problem being insoluble with help like this at her fingertips. This was what she needed. This was why she had risked having time-bomb negotiations in the middle of her burgeoning industrial colony. With these—the brains of a starship—she might make it all work out.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“My pleasure, Doctor.”
She looked at him, and at the bright canary-yellow eyes that were not even supposed to connote emotion, but seemed to. “Wrong, Mr. Data. The pleasure is all mine.”
“It is safe, is it not?” Data poked at the pellets of grain that rolled around his palm.
Barbara hesitated. “It’s safe,” she said flatly.
“You do not sound quite convinced.”
“I would be more convinced if I could find out why it was safe.” She dabbed at the station’s panel, turning herself away from the thoughts of past tests, and toward future solutions.
Data looked from the grain to her, then back to the grain. “What exactly will it do?”
An android looking for a cure-all? She chuckled at the thought. “To you? Probably nothing. With most people it’s highly therapeutic. I mean, it’s no fountain of youth, but it does have a measurably positive effect. It brings about a homeostatic condition in the body. Race or species doesn’t seem to matter.” She cocked her head toward the grain. “Go ahead. Try it.”
“Species does not matter?” Data asked. “But races can differ so widely. One race’s nourishment can be another’s poison.”
“There are seventeen races in my colony. All tested and all reacted favorably. That’s the mystery, Commander.” She smiled. “I don’t think it would hurt you.”
Data brought his hand to his mouth, tossed in the grains, and swallowed.
Barbara lowered her gaze back to the console, then looked back up when he spoke again.
“Interesting,” Data said, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I am unable to determine its molecular makeup.”
“Pardon?”
“That is how I taste, Doctor. I suppose you might say I have tasted better.”
He tasted? Then what was it about him that wasn’t human? Or did he just “say” he tasted? Why did this android, in form and function created to be like a man in every way, have those bright yellow eyes and that sallow color of lifelessness? The ship’s computer spoke to her in a similar tone. What was it that made him different from the computer she was programming now? The thought distracted her, made her uncomfortable, curious.
But every moment she spoke to him, every moment he spoke back, that discomfort melted away.
The android’s face fell blank for a moment—blanker than usual anyway. “I detect no change in my internal systems.”
Barbara smiled. “I’m not surprised. The bread it makes doesn’t affect my toaster, either.”
“I am far from a toaster.”
Her smiled faded and she felt her face flush. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense—”
“I cannot be offended,” he said. “How long does it usually take to affect someone?”
“Well, it depends on the person. Sometimes immediately, sometimes a few hours. But you’re an android . . .”
“I do have certain organic fluids,” he said. “Perhaps it will only take more time with me.”
With a pat on Data’s hand, Barbara said, “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Perplexed, Data shook his head. “Neither would I.”
It was blinding light and a small pang of irritation that brought Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge from the Enterprise to the planet below. He always avoided directly blaming the prosthetic VISOR that allowed hi
m his sight. Doing so seemed . . . unappreciative. But the transporter could sometimes cause such a flash, especially when a strange frequency was being used, or extra power was added to the matter push. And both were happening thanks to the captain’s order of a transmission jammer.
When his vision cleared and the pain dulled into a normal ache, he saw Captain Picard near the meeting hall’s large table and walked toward him.
“Glad you decided to join us, Mr. La Forge,” Picard greeted.
“‘Us,’ sir?” Geordi scanned the room and saw only a few colonists setting up small tables at the far end of the hall. “I hate to be the first to break it to you, Captain, but you’re alone.” The chief engineer smiled. “Where is everyone?”
“We have two security details keeping the delegates separated until the dinner,” Picard said. “The Hidran government’s approval should come through any moment and we can sign the documents after dinner.”
One of Geordi’s brows shot up. “Hidran and Klingons eating together, sir? Sure you’re not asking for too much?”
A corner of Picard’s mouth turned down and Geordi assumed the captain had been wondering the same thing.
“You’d think that a race intelligent enough for space travel would be rational enough to use discussion to settle differences,” Geordi said.
“One would think so,” Picard said sardonically. “Wouldn’t one?”
Sunlight streamed through the windows and folded itself over the pillows scattered across the floor. Riker lightly brushed Barbara’s cheek where the butter-colored rays caressed her milky skin. He couldn’t remember feeling so comfortable with anyone . . . not since Deanna.
“I don’t usually fall into bed after I’ve just met someone,” he said.
“We’re not in bed,” Barbara said, rising. She smiled and as she rose, the brightly colored throw that had been around her collapsed into the bars of sunlight. The brilliant reds and forest greens of the blanket caught the light and tossed it throughout the room. “But that is good to hear, even if I don’t believe it,” she added as she walked into the next room, her nude form also catching the light as she left.
FOREIGN FOES Page 3
