DUST WAS BEING driven around the exposed areas of the old city by a lashing wind when Zorn's a.s.sistant bowed Picard, Riker and Troi into Zorn's office. The gusts rattled the windows and forced the yellow-brown powder through even the finest openings.

Although the wind-driven dust had always been a part of his life, it still made Zorn irritable and edgy. The yellow pall it cast over the city depressed him. He had been prepared to be most gracious to his visitors until he saw the Betazoid woman with the captain and First Officer Riker. The information on Federation planets and races he had been given by Starfleet had detailed the telepathic talents of Betazoids. Was she a trap set to catch him?

His greeting to them was formal, but somewhat abrupt. Riker noticed both that and the fact that Zorn made no attempt to shake hands. He flicked a look at Picard, who did not realize it was out of the ordinary. Zorn covered it with an offer of coffee, of juices, of pastries, anything they would like-all of which were politely refused.

Zorn settled behind his desk opposite his guests and folded his long gray fingers. His back was stiff and upright, and his eyes kept straying to Troi.

"Yes. How may I serve you, Captain?"

"Now that the station is completed, and you have officially offered to open it to Starfleet, I have been ordered to give it a close formal inspection before making final recommendations on acceptance."

"There would be no objections to that," Zorn said, with another nervous glance at Troi. "But I am puzzled by your bringing a Betazoid to this meeting. If her purpose here is to probe my thoughts, sir. ..." Troi leaned forward, smiling rea.s.surance. "I can sense only strong emotions, Groppler. I am only half Betazoid. My father was a Starfleet officer."

"I have nothing to hide, of course. The entire station will be open to your inspection, Captain."

"Mine, and that of my officers," Picard said pointedly. Zorn nodded, accompanying the gesture with a nervous smile.

"Yes. Of course. And your officers." "Good," Picard said briskly, "since we admire what we've already seen of your construction techniques. To have built this entire station in the short time you did requires tremendous engineering skill. Starfleet may be interested in your constructing starbases elsewhere."

"Captain, we are not interested in building other facilities. Especially not on other planets."

Troi listened to the conversation carefully, studying Zorn's face and body language for clues which she as a trained counselor could interpret. Her senses strained toward him and easily felt his nervousness. Then, at the edge of her mind, she became aware of something else ... something distressing and painful.

"Perhaps Starfleet could use the materials you would sell them," Picard suggested.

"But they are quite ordinary, Captain. Available on many planets."

The feeling crept deeper into Troi's mind. Dull pain. Endless. Loneliness. Hopelessness. Dimly, she could hear Riker politely interrupt Picard. She forced her attention back to the men before her.

"If I may, Captain ...?" On the Captain's nod, Riker turned to Zorn. "Perhaps a trade, Groppler?

Some things you need in return for lending us architects and engineers who can demonstrate your techniques? Or Starfleet would be prepared to accommodate them, pay for their services... ."

"Payment is not an issue, Commander. Bandi do not wish to leave their home world. If Starfleet cannot accept that small weakness, then we will be forced, unhappily, to seek an alliance with someone like the Ferengi, or-"

Troi groaned softly, unable to contain the waves of pain and distress she felt. Picard snapped around toward her instantly. "Counselor, what is it?"

Troi gathered herself, struggling for composure, steadying her voice. "Do you want it described here, sir?"

"Yes!" Picard snapped with a look at Zorn. "No secrets here if we're all to be friends. Agreed, Groppler?"

Zorn had become increasingly tense, his laced fingers almost white under the gray skin. "We ourselves have nothing to hide."

Troi moaned again, hit by another wave of emotion. "Pain ... pain, loneliness ... terrible loneliness, despair... ." She shook her head. "I'm not sensing the groppler, sir. Or any of his people. I'm sure of it... but it's something very close to us here."

"Zorn, the source of this. Do you have any idea?" Picard demanded.

The groppler shot to his feet. "No! No, absolutely not. And I find nothing helpful or productive in any of this!"

Picard rose to face him. "That's it? No other comment?"

"What do you expect of us? We built Farpoint Station exactly as you would wish to have it. A base designed to your needs, luxurious even by human standards-everything you could dream of-we did all this to please you! What more can you want from us?"

"Answers," Picard said coldly. "You've evaded even our simplest questions about it. We'll adjourn for now while we all consider our positions." He gestured Troi and Riker to their feet, and they followed him toward the door.

"Captain. The Ferengi would be very interested in a base like this."

Picard glanced back and seared the administrator with a scathing look. "Fine. I hope they find you as tasty as they did their past a.s.sociates."

Picard didn't slam the door, but he didn't need to. He had made his point. The Ferengi were not to be trusted-even if they did not literally consume their a.s.sociates. (And perhaps they did.) The alternatives were a mutual cooperation pact with Starfleet-or maintaining the station alone, hoping trade and pa.s.senger vessels would venture out to this as yet little-mapped sector of the galaxy.

Zorn slumped against his desk, anguished. So much of the Bandi hope was in this station. They were a diminishing race, able to exist in any comfortable surroundings they desired, but bereft of hope of survival as a race until the Starfleet contact team had beamed down. They had been astonished at the insatiable Bandi curiosity about Starfleet and human s.p.a.cefaring. The Prime Directive had been carefully explained to them, and they understood it; but Zorn had been adamant in his insistence that interference in the Bandi civilization would save it.

Starfleet had to agree that Farpoint would be one of their staging stations. They had to.

Picard angrily strode away from Zorn's office with Riker and Troi hurrying after him. The Captain abruptly stopped after the first heat of the exchange had worn off him, and he turned to Troi.

"Zorn's evading too many questions. Did you feel anything specific from him?"

"Nervous tension ... frustration. Not anger. I think he was feigning that, trying to force your hand. And something else."

"Yes?"

"He was very agitated when I felt that deep loneliness and pain from somewhere nearby." Troi looked directly at the captain, troubled. "I believe he was lying about knowing its source."

Picard looked up as the chime at his ready room door rang. "Come," he called, turning off the viewscreen that had once again displayed a review of everything known about the Bandi and Deneb IV.

Riker stepped in, and Picard gestured to a chair. "Riker. Sit down."

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. As I indicated to Zorn in our meeting, I want a full inspection of Farpoint Station. A full inspection. You'll lead the away team."

"Full inspection. Top to bottom, sir? Examine the rivets, seams and girders?"

"You understand me completely. I want the cobwebs counted-if you find any."

"Yes, sir." Riker flashed his quick, charming grin. "We'll even keep a count on any flies in the webs."

"Who knows? It might very well be significant."

Riker hitched his chair closer to the desk and leaned toward Picard thoughtfully. "Do you think Zorn was serious about offering the station to the Ferengi? Economically, it might make sense. Maybe the Ferengi made a better offer than Starfleet for the station after it was built. It would be advantageous for them to have a base in this quadrant."

Picard shook his head. "Starfleet didn't offer the Bandi anything in the first place. They built Farpoint because they wanted to. On the other hand, they may be hoping to get an elevated monetary offer from Starfleet by throwing out the threat."

"If they really mean to turn the station over to the Ferengi Alliance, it could create a problem for Starfleet in this sector. As you said, this quadrant is far out of their territory. That's not rea.s.suring if Zorn wasn't bluffing."

There was silence between them as they considered the implications of a genuine Ferengi involvement in the area. There were already spearheads of their trade contracts lancing into territory the Federation considered a part of its own. Diplomatic treaties usually followed close behind, and the Federation had found it would look up and discover an entire star system edged into the Ferengi Alliance. Any planets so lost had not been able to return to the Federation.

"I suggest you take Data with your away team, Commander. His a.n.a.lytical abilities-"

"-are those of a computer. We'll be taking tricorders, sir. The information we send back can certainly be adequately a.n.a.lyzed by the ship's computer."

"I see." Picard studied Riker with a new consideration. He hadn't thought the man would object to working with one of the most remarkable officers in Starfleet. Of course, if Riker didn't perceive Data as an officer, but only as a machine, he could not be expected to appreciate the android's qualities. "You must already know Data's personal medical-technical records are 'eyes only' to me."

Riker nodded. "However, his service record is open to any senior officer. I suggest you take some time to study it."

"Yes, sir," Riker said stiffly.

"I also suggest you take the time to get to know Data himself."

"As a person, sir?"

Picard ignored the barely hidden sarcasm. "As a fellow officer, Commander Riker. I take it you have no problem accepting Klingons or Vulcans or any other alien in Starfleet in that capacity?"

"No, sir."

"You may come to find Data is easier to accept than any of them when you discover how he regards humans. To the others, we are aliens. Data has a different view. You would profit by exploring it."

"Yes, sir. May I be dismissed?" Riker glanced away, some color creeping into his cheeks. He was genuinely embarra.s.sed by the quiet dressing down. "To pursue the subject?" he added.

Picard nodded curtly and turned back to his viewer. Riker stood and quickly left. Picard glanced up again as the door slid closed behind him. If he was any judge of character, Picard was positive young Commander Riker would benefit from the study.

Riker spent an instructional half hour with the android's service record. There were an enormous number of subjects in which Data was qualified as an expert. He had two degrees conferred by Starfleet. Data had been given Starfleet promotions on a regular basis and had served (with commendations from the captains) on three vessels before coming to the Enterprise as its second officer. If it had been the file on anyone else in the fleet, Riker would have regarded it as the record of a successful and extremely competent officer. The fact that he knew Data was an android still colored his judgment about him. Obviously, Picard saw more in Him-it-than the mere printed facts of the record could convey. He was going to have to face the man-machine-and personally explore what he-or perhaps it-was all about.

Riker asked for a location on Data and was informed by the computer that the android was on Holodeck Two. He took a turbolift and stepped out on the deck as a dark-haired ensign in the uniform of operations and services walked past, and Riker called out to her.

"Excuse me, Ensign. ..."

The young officer turned and immediately came to attention when she saw the three small gold disks of his rank. "Sir?"

"Can you help me locate Lieutenant Commander Data? I was told he's somewhere on this deck."

"Oh, yes sir. This way, please." She held out a hand, directing him toward a black surface of the corridor wall, which Riker knew was a computer interface. "You must be new to these Galaxy-cla.s.s starships, sir."

"A little," Riker admitted.

The Ensign placed her hand on the black surface. "Tell me the location of Lieutenant Commander Data."

At the touch of her hand and the key words, "Tell me," the black surface glowed and displayed a light pattern that formed the words "Area 4-J." The computer's mellow voice intoned, "Lieutenant Commander Data ... now located in Holodeck area 4-J." An overlay of the holodeck appeared with a glowing light path imposed on it which indicated the way from where they stood to the designated area.

The ensign smiled politely and indicated the readout. "As you see, sir, it's pointing you that way.

Just follow the signals it will give you."

"Thank you, Ensign."

He walked away from her, and the ensign watched his departure with speculative eyes. "My pleasure, sir," she said with a soft, vaguely hopeful smile.

As Riker moved along the corridor, the black surface of another computer panel came alive with a flashing direction signal pointing ahead. "The next hatchway on your right," the computer directed.

He responded automatically. "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome, Commander Riker," the computer replied.

Riker flashed a look at it and realized the computers on this ship were far more sensitive and-he hesitated as he acknowledged it-perceptive than he had imagined possible. If computers that were truly mere machines serving the crew and ship were that sophisticated, what could he make of one like Data?

He moved along to the next hatchway and paused before it. "If you care to enter, Commander-" the computer went on smoothly.

Riker tossed it an irritated look and snapped, "I do." The hatch immediately slid open to admit him, revealing a vista of wild and beautiful parkland. The rich vegetation and trees were a lush green and grew in glades and dells where their coolness invited one to linger. A small stream meandered through the middle distance, and the wooded parkland seemed to stretch for miles to the horizon. The creamy clouds of a cla.s.sic "b.u.t.termilk sky" streamed across the blue overhead. Off to Riker's left, he heard the distinct call of a crow over the general twitter of smaller birds in the trees. He smiled as a hummingbird whizzed past him to hover delicately over a flowering shrub nearby. He had seen holodecks before that attempted to do what this one accomplished so superbly. If he had not known exactly where he was, he would have believed absolutely that he was on Earth. It's another machine, his brain reminded him.

Then, over the bird song and the raspy chitter of squirrels in the trees, he heard someone whistling.

He recognized the tune, which was being executed in a rather poor and laborious manner. It was an ancient one he had been taught as a child, and he shook his head as the final notes flatted. Riker pinpointed the source of the sound as coming from ahead and to his right, and he moved toward it. As he walked, he heard the whistling start again, still labored and frequently flat.

He paused at the top of the low hill overlooking the tumbling stream and scanned for the whistler.

The sound seemed to be coming from the opposite bank, but the trees and heavy brush still screened the view. "h.e.l.lo!" Riker called. The whistling continued.

The stream conveniently had a number of wide flat rocks that could be used to cross it. Riker started across, stepping easily from stone to stone with his long stride. The next to last one rocked loosely as his foot came down on it, and he brought his other foot up to it and swayed precariously for a moment before he caught his balance. Once he steadied, he was able to step to the final stone and to the sh.o.r.e. Peculiar that so perfect a holo projection should have a loose stone in the stream-and yet, it was the kind of thing one might find in a real creek. He decided the designer of the projection had programmed in "flaws" that nature might have contained.

He hesitated on the bank, readjusting his direction as the offkey tune persisted. Then he started up the path that threaded through the dense shrubbery. It led him to a wooded glade where deep purple violets and green jack-in-the-pulpits grew shyly in the cool shade of the trees. Programmed for spring, Riker noted absently.

The whistler had started the old tune again, and Riker followed the sound up to where a st.u.r.dy tree forked to form a deep "Y" with its branches. Data was perched there, his lips pursed as he vainly tried to get the last notes correct. They tumbled out of key again. Apparently whistling was a difficult art for a machine to master. Riker quickly whistled the last bar correctly, and the android stared around blankly. Realizing who it was, he swung his legs around and dropped down to face the first officer.

"Marvelous how easily humans do that," he said with admiration. "I still need much practice. Was there something you wanted, sir?"

"There are some puzzles down on the planet that Captain Picard wants answered."

"Yes, the reports in regard to the Bandi and the construction of the station are quite incomplete."

"He suggested I take you on the away team I'll be. leading."

"I shall endeavor to function adequately, sir."

Riker studied the android, who stared back at him, patiently waiting for him to go on. "I'm sure you will." Riker hesitated and then said, "He also suggested that I look up your record."

"Yes, sir. A wise procedure always. I am not known to you, and you would wish to acquaint yourself with my capabilities and areas of expertise."

Riker shifted uncomfortably. Why did this man-machine-put him so offguard? Data's manner was mild, and his voice was gentle and polite. Not obsequious, not overeager to please-simply matter of fact.

His face had a range of expression, but Riker had a feeling it would never register extremes of any kind.

"The record says you were found on a planet which had suffered a total biological catastrophe that destroyed all life on it."

"That is correct, sir."