She left him to make his call and change clothes, accepting his a.s.surance that "I can still find the bridge of a starship."

But when he found it a short time later, not long after his non-standard communication had lighted a tell-tale on Yar's board, he was in his civilian clothes, not the uniform she had offered. He thanked Picard, and Data, then asked, "Can you arrange for me to wait in an unsecured area at Starbase 68? My people will pick me up there."

Picard frowned. "Of course, if that is what you want. But surely Tasha told you-"

"That Starfleet would take me back. Yes, she did, and I appreciate the gesture. But I have other obligations now. And ... I'm afraid I've lost my taste for rules and regulations." He turned to Yar, who was gripping the edge of her console in the effort to hold back her disappointment. "Tasha, when you have the chance, we must talk."

"Go," said Picard. "But Mr. Adin," he warned as both Dare and Yar moved toward the turbolift, "understand that I have no intention of losing my Chief of Security."

Dare's smile was wolfish again, although not sinister this time. "That, I believe, is up to Tasha."

They went to Yar's quarters, where she learned that the Captain had guessed quite accurately what Dare would offer her. "We've always wanted to work together. I respect the fact that you must serve out your tour of duty. But then-" He put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes and shaking his head with a smile. "What a pleasure it is just to know we can communicate! I will let you know where I go, and it's never difficult to follow the Enterprise with all the chatter amongst the s.p.a.celanes."

"You've known all along what I was doing?" she asked.

"Not always, but the occasional reference. Once you were aboard Enterprise it became easy. But I don't want you light-years away, Tasha. I want you at my side."

"Then why not accept Starfleet's offer? Dare, after admitting its mistake, Starfleet Command would probably give you any posting you wanted. You could serve here, aboard the Enterprise!"

"Where you, my little kitten, are Chief of Security. I love you, Tasha, but I'm not ready to take orders from you."

"Especially as you would far outrank me," she agreed. "But I can't step-"

"Don't even say it! Tasha, I would never suggest such a thing; you have worked too long and too hard to get where you are. No, love, the only way you and I can work together now is as equals, and face it, that cannot happen in Starfleet. Join me, and learn what it is to be bound by no rules but your own conscience."

"Dare, I can't-"

"Don't say it," he repeated, placing a finger over her lips. "There's no need to decide today, Tasha. Believe me, I do understand how important Starfleet is to you. But I also believe you will outgrow it. I will still be there, love. We're survivors, you and I." He replaced the finger with his lips, and Yar relaxed into his embrace.

He was right. She didn't have to decide today-couldn't, really. Her current enlistment had a long time to run ... and Dare understood that she must serve it out. But he was free now. They would see one another again, as often as possible.

And one day, perhaps ...

Chapter Twelve.

THE ENTERPRISE was in routine flight. There were no clues that it was to be the most difficult day so far of Lieutenant Commander Data's life.

He was at his usual post. Worf, on the upper bridge, reported no obstacles or vessels, then turned to Tasha and began to discuss the ship's martial arts compet.i.tion. Data heard the pleasure in Tasha's voice as she realized that Worf had bet on her to win.

Tasha seemed happy, even though Darryl Adin had not accepted Starfleet's offer of reinstatement. Data was pleased that he had found the evidence to clear Adin-for it was now obvious that Tasha's reunion with the man she loved had made no difference at all in her friendship with Data, Worf, Deanna, and others.

Rikan was right: Data had confused two very different kinds of ... love. He was still uncomfortable using that word, for as the warlord had suggested, humans also got its many meanings confused. Possibly Data had done so because he had been programmed by humans. Whatever the reason, he was secure now that the friendships he had formed aboard the Enterprise could only be enhanced by the addition of others to the circle.

Data's consciousness was drawn from his personal musings when the mission suddenly ceased to be routine. Deanna Troi's shuttle crashed on Vagra II, and Data, Riker, Tasha, and Dr. Crusher beamed down to rescue her and her pilot. But the away team was prevented from reaching the shuttle by the peculiar creature called Armus.

Even then, there was no warning, no apprehension. While strange life forms were nothing new to the crew of the Enterprise, none of them could take a talking tar pit very seriously. No one tried to stop Tasha when she attempted to walk brusquely past it, worried about her close friend Deanna trapped in the shuttle.

How they underestimated Armus!

When the thing struck Tasha, Data and Riker turned their phasers on it, while Dr. Crusher rushed to the fallen Security Chief. The attention of the men was on the fact that their weapons were ineffective; neither of them realized that Tasha was seriously injured, let alone- "She's dead," Dr. Crusher reported to the Captain. Data heard not surprise, but total lack of belief in her voice, saw the same in Riker's face.

They transported aboard, and Dr. Crusher folded Tasha's limp body into Data's arms. Operating on standard procedures, he carried her to sickbay, placed her on the treatment couch, and started for the bridge to report to Captain Picard.

But the Captain was emerging from the turbolift into the corridor outside sickbay. "How is she?"

"I do not know," Data replied. "Surely Dr. Crusher can revive her." It was not a kind lie; he a.s.sumed Tasha had suffered cardiac arrest from an electrical shock, an easily-corrected condition.

"Come on, then, Data," said Picard. At the android's raised eyebrows he added, "We may not be able to do anything, but I, for one, do not intend to wait on the bridge for a report."

So Data followed Picard back into sickbay, realizing that he, too, wanted to know Tasha's fate first-hand.

Data went to stand beside Riker, feeling helpless. As one effort after another failed to revive Tasha, Picard joined them, knowing as surely as Data did that Dr. Crusher continued her efforts long after all hope was gone. Data looked from one man to the other, seeing in their strained looks a refusal to accept the death of a friend until Dr. Crusher finally announced, "She's gone."

"Gone?" Picard asked as if he still could not believe it, forcing Dr. Crusher to explain further, her voice tight with unshed tears.

Data said nothing. He was uncomfortable with human grief ... and his own feelings were a tumult such as he had never experienced before. He continued in that state until the strategy meeting called by Captain Picard.

Data remained silent, while the humans all began to speak at once. He felt alien among them ... until Picard broke into the babble. "Lieutenant Yar's death is very painful for all of us. We will have to deal with it as best we can, for now. Until the shuttle crew is safely beamed aboard this ship, our feelings will have to wait. Is that understood?"

There was silence-and then, when Picard began asking for suggestions, Data was heartened to see his crewmates do exactly what he did: put all else aside, and concentrate on the effort to bring Deanna Troi and her pilot safely home to the Enterprise. He was no more automaton than they; all understood that sorrow for the dead must wait while they sought to save the living.

On returning to the planet, Data had his first direct experience with sadism. Armus was a textbook case-but with its combination of power and hostages, it was invulnerable to textbook solutions.

And it seemed fascinated with Data. Although it viciously exercised its power against Dr. Crusher, Geordi, Riker, each time it involved Data in the torture. Then Captain Picard joined them-and provided the solution.

"I want to see my people in the shuttle," Picard demanded.

"Entertain me," Armus answered- - and Picard merely shook his head and murmured a negative.

From that point on, Data knew how to deal with Armus, and so did Dr. Crusher. Armus might be able to control them physically, but they did not have to allow it to control their feelings.

The creature must have known it had met its match from its first confrontation with the Captain, for after testing Data and Dr. Crusher it ignored Geordi and released Riker, allowing the four of them to beam up to the Enterprise so it could take on the Captain, one on one.

Hearing the Captain's report of that confrontation later, though, at the final debriefing, Data found once again that he did not understand. "Sir," he said, "it appears that you did to Armus what Armus attempted to do to us: you controlled it by frustrating it. You implied that you would help it to leave its planet-and then you refused to do so. Its futile rage weakened it so that we were able to beam you and the shuttle pa.s.sengers aboard."

"That is correct, Data," said Picard.

Data frowned. "I do not understand. If such emotional manipulation was wrong for Armus-"

"Data!" Geordi gasped.

At the same time Dr. Crusher said angrily, "You can't accuse the Captain of-"

"Let him speak!" Picard overrode their protests. "That is a valid question, Mr. Data."

Data explained, "It is not the act of leaving Armus behind I question, but the method. An act in and of itself has no moral value, positive or negative. We have all fired our phasers to injure or kill, for example. In self-defense or in defense of our colleagues, such acts are justified."

As Data paused, searching for the words to explain his disquiet, Picard antic.i.p.ated him. "What you are asking, Data, is whether I acted in revenge, with the same sadism as Armus."

Data felt the others staring at him, but although he would not have couched it in such harsh terms, that was in essence his question. "Yes, sir," he admitted.

Picard gave a slight sad smile. "I cannot answer that, Mr. Data."

"What!" gasped Riker. "Sir, we all know you would never-!"

"No, Number One," Picard said calmly, "you don't know that because I do not. That is the greatest danger in confronting evil: it is contagious. I have no doubt I did what was necessary. Why I did it-whether I achieved the superhuman feat of feeling no thrill of revenge for Tasha's death or the pain Armus put the rest of you through-I will probably question for the rest of my life."

"I am sorry, sir," said Data. "I should not have asked."

"Oh, yes, Data," the Captain replied, "you should have. I have more years of experience than the rest of you, but that doesn't make such decisions any easier. Sooner or later we all face the no-win situation. One of the hardest lessons of life is that there are times when the best we can hope for is a draw. When the battle is with one's own conscience, that is the most difficult of all."

With that, the debriefing ended-but the long, tense day was not yet over. At last there was time to confront their grief over Tasha's death. First there was the public funeral service, open to anyone aboard the ship. Data had attended many such services in his years in Starfleet; today he heard familiar words of comfort and consolation, but did not find either.

He had lost colleagues before. This was the first time he had lost a friend.

Off duty, Data returned to his quarters after the service-only to have his introspection interrupted within minutes by the Captain on the intercom. "Please come to the holodeck, Mr. Data."

"The holodeck, sir?"

"You are named among those for whom Tasha left a farewell message."

"Yes, sir," Data responded automatically-but there was nothing automatic about his internal response. He knew of the Starfleet tradition, of course ... but no one else had ever included him in it.

The whole bridge crew were there, including Wesley Crusher. Dr. Beverly Crusher also joined them.

Data stood back, a little behind the rest, not knowing what to expect. When Tasha's image appeared, he saw Wesley look to his mother, and felt an affinity for the boy.

When Tasha had made the recording, she had guessed right about dying quickly in the line of duty. She spoke of her love for her friends, her grat.i.tude to Starfleet, and her personal feelings for each of them.

When it came to Data, she called him her friend, and added, "You see things with the wonder of a child, and that makes you more human than any of us."

As Tasha's image faded, only Captain Picard responded, "Au revoir, Natasha." Then he added, "This gathering is concluded," and people began filing off the holodeck.

Data, though, walked forward, staring at the cloud images, trying to understand what had just happened. Again he felt isolated. Picard joined him, but waited for Data to speak first.

"Sir," said Data, "the purpose of this gathering ... confuses me."

"Oh? How so?"

"My thoughts are not for Tasha," Data explained, "but for myself. I keep thinking how empty it will be without her presence. Did I miss the point?"

"No, you didn't, Data," the Captain a.s.sured him. "You got it," and he left the android to his contemplation.

For a time Data simply stood there, wishing ... wishing he could talk to Tasha just once more, wishing he understood how humans coped with such loss.

As Tasha's image had said, he had his memories. He supposed some would think him fortunate because he could recall every detail of every moment he had spent with Tasha, and it would not fade with time as human memory did. They could probably not understand that it only meant he would remember more clearly exactly what was now gone from them.

Then he recalled something the warlord Rikan had said. "Survivors are considered fortunate, Data-and the irony is that those who envy us our longevity either do not live long enough to know the cruel fate in store for us ... or else they live to share it."

So this was what the warlord had meant. Data wished he could talk with Rikan-actually considered for a moment using some of his unused acc.u.mulation of personal subs.p.a.ce radio time to do so.

And then he remembered Captain Picard saying in the debriefing, "I have more years of experience than any of you."

Jean-Luc Picard was also a survivor. But like the legendary Captain James T. Kirk, Picard functioned best among the stars, not behind a desk-and having learned its lesson with that same Captain Kirk, Starfleet would allow him to do so for as long as he continued both capable and willing.

After the long, difficult day, the entire bridge crew were off duty. Certainly the Captain would want to rest.

But when Data returned to his quarters, there was a message on his console to contact Picard.

"Oh, yes, Data-there is one more matter concerning Tasha on which I need your advice. Would you mind coming to my quarters?"

"I will be right there, sir."

The "matter" was one final holographic message. Picard was seated at his desk, turning the cartridge over in his hands. Data had no doubt for whom it was intended.

Picard looked up. "Sit down, Data. I think you know what this is."

"Tasha's farewell message for Darryl Adin."

The Captain stared at the cartridge again. "That's right. Do you know where he is?"

Picard could have asked the computer. Data did not say so. "He is still on Treva, sir, aiding President Rikan in setting up his new government."

"Then shall we transmit this to him there?"

"Yes, s-" Data broke off. "No, sir. If you please, Captain, I have a great deal of personal leave time acc.u.mulated. With your permission, I will take Tasha's message to Mr. Adin. I do not think it should be delivered by a-" Data gasped in amazement at what he had almost said.

Picard looked up at him with a small smile. "By someone who did not know Tasha," he suggested. "Permission granted." He handed over the cartridge. "It is the first time you must do this, Data, but it will not be the last." Data was almost certain he was remembering delivering the news of her husband's death, and probably a similar message cartridge, to Dr. Crusher. Or perhaps it was a sequence of many such events that put the shadows in the Captain's eyes.

"It is the price we pay," said Data, "for being survivors."

Picard blinked at him in surprise. Then he nodded. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but you are right, Data. And thank you for volunteering. You know Darryl Adin better than I do, but I would have gone myself rather than coldly transmit the information."

"Starfleet policy is to make every effort to send such messages in the care of someone who knows both parties," said Data.

"And Starfleet policy has nothing whatsoever to do with your offer," the Captain told him.

"No, sir," Data admitted.

"Well, then, go and see about rearranging the duty schedule to allow for your absence. And Mr. Data," he said as the android turned to go.

Data turned back. "Yes, sir?"