"It cannot," Data admitted, allowing the man to take his phaser. He was intensely annoyed at his inept.i.tude in eluding their trap ... and yet he did not see how he could have possibly detected the net. In daylight, perhaps, if he knew what he was looking for-Four of his captors kept their weapons trained on him, while two released Data from the net. Then they stayed to reset the trap, while the others escorted him to the castle. No one seemed concerned that he might have a companion; apparently they had been expecting him, and him alone.

His deduction was confirmed when they entered the castle, and one of the women stopped before a large blank screen. She flicked a switch; sensors and detectors came to life. They had been expecting him, all right-and known he could elude normal surveillance. On his last mission he had almost been destroyed by the most sophisticated, self-improving weapon ever devised. That he had eluded and helped to destroy ... only to prove vulnerable tonight to a simple net!

Irony. There was a human feeling Data understood only too well at this moment.

He was taken into the castle, through a number of large halls and corridors, to a series of rooms overlooking the cliff. In one of these, a fire crackled in the fireplace. Three people were ranged before it, apparently visiting casually, comfortably.

One of those people was Tasha Yar.

She did not appear to be held prisoner. Rather, she was seated on a settee facing the fire, her feet drawn up under her, staring into the flames as she sipped pensively at a drink in a small, elegant goblet. She was wearing a long, loose dress of a softer gold color than her uniform ... the first time Data seen her in a skirt since-Tasha turned as the group entered, and her eyes widened with surprise. "Data! Are you all right?!"

"Yes, I am all right," he replied, realizing her concern was due to his dirty and disheveled state. "Merely chagrined. I came here to rescue you."

"Yes, well, there is some question as to whether or not I require rescue," she told him. "Lord Rikan," she said to an old man seated on the other side of the fire, "this is my colleague, Lt. Commander Data."

The man rose, tall and imposing despite his advanced years. "I am most interested to meet you, Mr. Data. I hope we may have the opportunity for discussion. I have never met an android before."

"How do you do, sir," Data replied politely, taking his cue from Tasha.

"And this," said Tasha, turning to the man standing behind her near the fire, leaning on the mantelpiece, his face in the shadows, "is Adrian Dareau, better known as-"

But when Data focused on the man's face, his pupils automatically opened to allow him to see clearly even in the dim light. He knew that face from Starfleet Security files-an open file, besmirching Starfleet's otherwise perfect record of policing her own.

Ignoring the four weapons still covering him, Data stepped forward, interrupting Tasha, shifting instantly into command mode.

"- better known as former Starfleet Commander Darryl Adin," he supplied, "the most wanted criminal in the Federation."

And that gave Data a duty to perform, no matter how hopeless its full implementation might be: "As an authorized representative of Starfleet, I arrest you, sir, on the charge of unlawful flight from custody after being found guilty in a properly-convened and conducted court-martial, on twenty-one counts of murder, two counts of conspiracy, and three counts of treason against the United Federation of Planets."

"Data!" Tasha gasped.

But Data took no notice of her, his attention fixed on the very dangerous man before him.

Darryl Adin simply stared at him, dumbfounded, for a moment ... and then his mouth quirked. His eyes crinkled as he looked Data up and down, choked bursts of humor escaped his control-and finally he simply threw back his head, and laughed out loud.

Chapter Eight.

TASHA YAR had had no idea what Data was doing during her day of captivity, but she knew that Nalavia could not keep him ignorant that she was missing. She decided to a.s.sess her situation before determining her next move.

After that most uncomfortable breakfast, Rikan had offered to show Yar his home, explaining as he took her from one magnificent room to another how things had changed on Treva since he had been born in this very castle. "Once we made contact with other planets, if we wanted the medical advances, the technology, the creature comforts they offered, we had to trade something in return. We didn't know that it would change our entire way of life."

He described a pattern Yar had learned about in her required studies in history and sociology, one repeated time after time across the galaxy. Some governments were wise enough, as Treva's council of warlords had been, to recognize that trading away natural resources was planetary suicide. The only other choice was industrialization.

But as the level of technology on a planet climbed, the education of its workers had to follow or there would be no one capable of designing the equipment or doing the work. With education quickly came discontent-and insistence on sharing in the wealth they created.

Once the people acquired economic power, political power quickly followed. Governments changed from tyrannies, monarchies, oligarchies, to the many variants of rule by the people. On Treva, Rikan said, bemused, "We ruling families found to our astonishment that our lives were no worse than before. At least for those of us who bowed to the inevitable. My father no longer ruled by right of birth, but he was elected to the new Legislative Council, and when he died I replaced him. It was the same for all the great families. The power of the sword was replaced by the power of the vote-but it was still power."

His face grew sad as he continued, "Some there were who would not give up the old ways. They actually did what Nalavia accuses me of: built armies and attempted to win by might over those who welcomed the new ways." He sighed. "My father said, 'You cannot fight the future.' He was forced to take arms against some of his oldest friends. They called him a coward and a weakling, but they were wrong."

By this time they were standing on a balcony overlooking the chasm that formed a natural defense for the castle. "They were wrong," Rikan repeated ... but Yar heard something in his voice....

"Do you doubt that?" she asked.

"They said the common people could not be trusted, that they were weak and lazy and stupid. The warlords died fighting, like men-and cursing those like my father who, they said, turned against their own kind." His mouth thinned. "We were four, four who looked to the future and trusted in our people. Now all the others are gone."

Yar suddenly remembered, "Three members of the Legislative Council were murdered. Not-?"

Rikan nodded. "Yes-the other warlords. And suspicion cast on me, although of course there was no proof. I am the last, and I am childless. When I die, there will be no more warlords on Treva ... and I have survived to see the prophecy come true: the people elected Nalavia, and now as she takes their power to herself they don't seem to care! As long as they have life's necessities plus entertainment and intoxicants, they don't think of the future. Weak and lazy and stupid."

"Then why do you fight?" Yar asked.

"There are days when I ask myself that," Rikan replied, "and cannot find an answer. But then I go among my own people, here in the countryside. They work eagerly, play hard, live well-and I say no, Nalavia will not turn these people into her slaves! Not so long as I have breath and strength, or the wherewithal to get help for their struggle."

"So you hired Dare."

"His reputation has it that he can organize a small number of people to be as efficient as an army."

Oh, yes-Starfleet Security training had certainly taught him that.

"And has he done so?"

"Yes. His people trained and drilled us-and then these so-called terrorist attacks began, and the blame was placed on me. It cost me a large number of supporters." He turned the open, young hazel eyes, so incongruous in the old, wrinkled face, on Yar. "Natasha-those attacks are not Adrian's doing, nor mine. We believe they may be perpetrated by Nalavia herself, to rouse her people's hatred against us, but we have no proof."

"If that's so," Yar said, "Data will find out."

"Data? The android has such powers?"

She told him about her friend and colleague. It was easy to talk to Rikan ... but Dare as he was now made her extremely uncomfortable. He stayed out of her way all morning, and Yar began to plot escape once she knew the general layout of the castle.

Poet joined her with Rikan for a time, then Barb ... and Yar realized that once she knew her way around she was no longer to be left alone with the old man. Dammit-Dare knew she had to try to escape, and while Rikan was certainly hale and hearty for his age, with her skills she could overpower him easily. What her captor could not know was that until Dare's people began to protect him it had never crossed her mind to attack the aging warlord ... although she now realized she had thus missed her best chance to get away.

She must not miss another ... even if it did mean attacking Rikan. Her Security training included methods to render someone unconscious without causing serious harm.

Unlike standard uniform, Yar's dress uniform included pockets in the trousers, covered by the long-skirted jacket-a place to carry a comb or a credit chit on a formal occasion. She knew better than to try to palm anything while Poet was around, but neither Barb nor Rikan noticed when she slipped a small but heavy stone sculpture first into her hand, then into her pocket. Its weight was rea.s.suring: there were no sharp edges to do serious damage, but with scientific positioning of the blow it would make a very effective cosh.

If she was to get out of the castle, though, she had to wait until she was alone with one person.

Just before noon Rikan and Barb turned her over to Dare. He took her to the room where they had first met last night. The table stood as it had then, bare and polished. Now, though, Yar took note of the cupboards lining the walls, and two shiny surfaces that could be viewscreens, although such technology seemed out of place in the ancient castle.

"This is our strategy room," Dare said. "I wish I could trust you enough to show you everything, Tasha-but how can I?"

"You wish you could trust me?" she asked sarcastically.

"Look at you!" he replied, a burst of anger escaping for a moment before he controlled it to quiet bitterness. "Security Chief on a Galaxy-cla.s.s starship, at your age. I'm surprised you're not a lieutenant commander."

"I don't have the minimum time in rank yet," she replied automatically, eliciting from him a snort of acid laughter.

"So you are a success," he said. "I always knew you would be."

"You encouraged me," she recalled.

"Oh, yes, I did encourage you, didn't I? Look where it got me: when the crunch came, you chose your career over me."

"Dare!" she gasped.

"You can stop being indignant," he said. "At least you're consistent-I can trust that, can't I? Tasha Yar will always do what's best for her career. Even betray someone she purports to love."

She turned away. "You still think I betrayed you."

"And you still think I won't shoot or stab you in the back," he replied. "If I betrayed everything I believed in, how can you trust me"- he came up behind her and put his hands about her throat-"not to simply snap your neck?"

She knew half a dozen ways to break his hold, but she used none of them, her ingrained defenses overpowered by the memory of what his touch used to mean to her, the scent of him in her nostrils as he leaned forward over her shoulder to watch her expression.

"I believe you know I told the truth and nothing more on the witness stand," she replied calmly.

The hands dropped, and he walked away from her. "Unfortunately, I do believe that," he said. "The more fool I."

"It's the truth," she said, turning to see that he now stood more than two meters from her, his back to her in his turn.

It was her chance to escape ... but too obviously so. He'd have her before she reached the door.

Instead she moved closer, willing him to remain turned away from her as she took the stone sculpture from her pocket, closed it within her hand so that the blunt surface was exposed, saying, "I loved you, but I had a higher duty, one that you yourself taught me. Not to my own success, but to Starfleet."

When he turned, she was so close that he looked into her face, not down at the hand she kept carefully out of his line of sight.

"There was a time," she continued, holding his eyes with hers, "when, to me, Starfleet meant Darryl Adin. When you betrayed Starfleet, what did you expect me to do-run away and become an outlaw? Or just pine away and die of love like the heroine of some opera?"

On the last words of her speech she swung. He wasn't expecting it-not as the tag to her series of questions. Even Dare's reflexes were not fast enough to block such an unexpected blow.

Years of experience told her how to knock him unconscious without serious injury.

Before his body hit the floor, she was gone.

Yar darted down the corridor the way they had come, but instead of taking the stairs back up to the gallery suite she scurried down a hallway toward the back of the castle. There was no escape via the chasm in front-not without mountain climbing equipment.

She heard no alarms, nor were there footsteps behind her.

She didn't question her luck, but sped past the kitchens, from which delicious aromas drifted, then up a ramp that wound several times at a shallow angle-apparently the means by which heavy provision carts were taken down to the kitchens. That augured well for coming out into the courtyard.

By the time she reached the top of the ramp, Yar was panting. The thick double doors were barred from the inside; she wished for Data's strength as she shoved at the heavy wooden bar, bruising her shoulder using leverage against the doorframe before she finally slid it out of place.

Peering out into brilliant sunshine, she looked all around the courtyard ... and saw n.o.body.

Still no alarm. Dammit, she knew her job! Dare should have been unconscious for no more than thirty seconds, groggy for perhaps a minute after that. By this time there ought to be people searching for her.

She was tempted to go back, to see if she had hurt him more than she intended. Or if he had injured himself on impact with the stone floor- But her duty was to escape; Starfleet had not sent her to Treva to be captured by outlaws! Data must be suspicious about her absence by now, and possibly a good portion of Nalavia's army was out looking for her.

Keeping to the shadows, she crept farther out into the courtyard. No one, absolutely no one, was there.

Shivers ran up her spine. This was wrong.

There was nothing to do but keep going until she encountered the trap surely set for her, and hope she could escape once she tripped it.

She scuttled from the shadow of one outbuilding to another until she came to one with the tracks of wheels before it. Groundcars-maybe flyers. Surely she would set off an alarm if she tried to steal a vehicle, perhaps just if she opened the door. The answer was speed.

The door lock was a simple one any Starfleet Security trainee could open. Yar sprang it, darted inside- There were three vehicles: a groundcar, a flyer ... and the Starfleet shuttle she and Data had flown to Treva!

Dare had always been a cla.s.s act. His people had not only kidnapped her, but carried her away in her own shuttle.

She took no time to consider the implications. The door opened to her ID code, she climbed in, and the lights came on.

"What took you so long, Tasha?"

In the pilot's position sat Darryl Adin.

Too bitterly furious at herself to answer, she sat down in the co-pilot's seat, turning the chair toward him as she tried to collect herself.

He gave her that sardonic twist of his lips that had replaced his once-sweet smile. "You don't have the edge over me anymore, little kitten."

"What?"

"You've forgotten what it's like to have no one to rely on but yourself, whilst danger lurks at every turn. To trust no one."

"Dare-"

"Don't apologize."

"I wasn't going to. It's my duty to escape, Dare."

"I know. That's why I had to show you it's impossible."

"You set me up!"

He inclined his head, as if acknowledging a compliment. "For what it's worth, you did catch me off guard-I was preparing to set you up a few moments later. No one saw you take the sculpture, but you did me no permanent injury." The humorless smile again. "Perhaps if you had it to do over you would reconsider the latter."

"There was a time," she said, "when you would have put me on report for such a foolish stunt as attempting to recapture an escaped prisoner alone, without backup."

As if on cue there was a soft chime, and Dare tapped the paladin insignia on his jacket. Yar realized it was a combadge. Poet's voice was clear but tinny through its tiny speaker. "Dare? You all right? D'ja find 'er?"

"Right where I expected, Poet. Everything's under control. You can call off the search."

Yar gritted her teeth. "Now that you've made me feel like a total fool, what are you going to do with me?"