Star Trek - Survivors Part 4

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Leave between missions?"

"Refresher course," he replied. "Whilst I've been out on the other side of the galaxy, Starfleet have been developing new security techniques. So, I'm here to learn all the latest before being given a new a.s.signment. I'll be on campus all term." He smiled, that wonderful warm smile that turned his potentially threatening features not just handsome, but beautiful. "I'll be here to see my protege graduate. I'm so proud of what you've done with your life, Tasha."

Yar felt herself blush. "Don't speak too soon," she warned. "I might have failed the Priam IV test."

"What makes you think that?" he asked curiously.

"I didn't know what to do!" she said in frustration. "Dare, I couldn't make up my mind. Some Starfleet officer I'd be, unable to make a decision-"

"Hush," he said. "Leave it for now-we'll talk about it in the interview tomorrow morning. And stop worrying. If you're still the little workaholic I used to know, you got this far by hard study-and that means you were ready for everything Starfleet could think of to throw at you."

He was right, as it turned out. The next morning Yar found out that her ethical dilemma was precisely what the Priam IV test was intended to induce. After she recounted her thinking after her escape from the Orion slaver, Counselor T'Pelak said, "You considered every clue, even down to your own illness. Cadet Yar, you have fully a.s.similated the philosophy courses which once troubled you so, and incorporated them into the practical applications at which you have always excelled."

"I don't understand," Yar said blankly, looking toward Dare, who was in on the interview because he had been part of the scenario. The men who had played the traitorous Federation scientists were there, too. "I didn't do anything. I couldn't decide what I ought to do."

"You could not, in the time we gave you, with the information you had," T'Pelak a.s.sured her. "You would have failed, Cadet, if you had been certain that you knew the right course to take."

"You mean any decision would have been wrong?" she asked in amazement.

"No, not any decision," replied Commander Erdman, one of the "scientists.""Only a hasty decision, an uninformed one, or one which you made without strong reservations. Had the situation been real, you would of course have had to make a decision eventually-but your instincts told you not to do so while you were injured and exhausted. We stopped the scenario at that point because we had all the information we needed. You pa.s.sed, with a rating of excellent. Cadet Yar, you are now officially admitted to the graduating cla.s.s."

The interview broke up as the others congratulated her, but Yar was still dazed as she left the conference room. Dare followed her. "That was the last test," he said. "What are you going to do now?"

"I have a week's leave before the term begins. I think maybe I'll sleep for most of it."

He laughed. "Not much rest last night, eh? I'm sorry, Tasha-I wish I could have told you you'd pa.s.sed the moment you said you couldn't make up your mind. But you had to tell exactly what you felt this morning-and T'Pelak would've had my hide if she'd sensed I'd rea.s.sured you."

"It's not you I'm confused about," said Yar. "Of course you couldn't tell me. What I don't understand is the test. What good is a security officer who can't act?"

"The same good as one who goes off half-c.o.c.ked, which I expect you've done a few times in your training?"

She nodded ruefully. "Oh, yes-my most frequent mistake."

"Well, now-in most situations you can correct for such an error even after it's made. What you have just proved, Tasha, is that when there is no chance to change things once you've acted, you don't jump the gun. You think it out."

"But what if it had been real?"

"What if it had been?" he threw the question back at her.

Finally, under the penetrating gaze of those warm brown eyes, she was able to think past the frustration of sitting there in the jungle, mud-covered and in pain, unable to make a move. Had it been real ...

"I guess ... no, I know, I'd find food and shelter, and think about it some more while my wrist healed and I kept out of the way of the traitors, who'd be trying to kill me. If they didn't succeed, I'd probably watch the natives for a while, and then make up my mind."

"That's my clever girl," he told her. "Survive, survey, and only then act. Now do you understand why I'm so proud to have had a hand in bringing you into Starfleet?"

As her final term proceeded, what Tasha Yar sensed from Darryl Adin was a paternal pride in her achievements. It pleased her for a time, but then slowly she began to find it disturbing.

They had two cla.s.ses together, Advanced Security Techniques, seminar and practic.u.m. In the cla.s.sroom Yar was, as usual, the star pupil. Dare took notes, provided information from personal experience when the instructor requested, but did not volunteer. Yar was astonished to discover at midterm that she was still first in the cla.s.s. Darryl Adin was second.

"Why?" she asked. "No one would mind if you spoke up in cla.s.s more. And you know I enjoy it when you challenge me-you certainly do in the practic.u.m!"

Dare explained, "That's not it, Tasha. You young people need to discuss the theories until you understand them thoroughly. Commander Zarsh knows I've been through that part; I can learn the new material without taking up time you cadets need."

"Then why is my average three points higher than yours?" she demanded. "You're the experienced officer, you ought to outscore any cadet."

He laughed. "I could if all the tests were objective. It's the essays, Tasha-I simply can't write as well as you do. Which I suppose I ought to be ashamed of," he added with a twinkle that showed he hadn't a bit of shame about it, "as I had a proper education and you didn't. But B+ is good enough for me on the essays-when it's averaged with the objective part I still end up with an A. In security it's the practical applications that count, not the mellifluous prose in which you turn in reports."

"Is that why you go all out in the practic.u.m?" In that cla.s.s, their positions were reversed-the first time Yar had not led the cla.s.s when it came to physical activity.

"I have to, if this old body is going to keep up with all the young ones."

"Dare! You're not old!"

"I'm over thirty," he said.

"By less than two years."

He shook his head with a rueful smile. "In our business, age encroaches very quickly if you don't keep up every moment. My reflexes are as good as yours, Tasha, and I can still outshoot you-"

"I'm practicing!"

"-but even with modern medicine the injuries inherent in security work take their toll. I'll never be as flexible as I used to be, because my back was broken on Twenginian."

"What? You never told me-"

He shrugged. "The spinal cord wasn't severed. They got me to sickbay, and in a month I was back on duty. I can pa.s.s all the medical tests, well within tolerances. But I know I can't meet my old standards. And unless I keep up daily practice, against the strongest, sharpest opponents available my abilities will degenerate." He stared blankly for a moment, at something not in the room with them. "I've seen it happen. I won't let it happen to me."

Although Dare quickly changed the subject, Yar later took advantage of her security clearance as a final-term cadet to look up Starfleet records of what had happened to Dare on Twenginian. Everybody knew about the Seeker's routing the secret nest of Orions from that Federation planet, but the details were cla.s.sified.

Although he had been Chief of Security of the Cochrane, a small scouting vessel, Dare had been a.s.sistant Chief on his next two missions, on progressively larger s.h.i.+ps. In each succeeding mission he had been in charge of more personnel, with more responsibility; the a.s.signments, despite the t.i.tle, were promotions.

On Twenginian the away team had been headed by Chief of Security Venton Scoggins, a man with over twenty years of experience in Starfleet. The record showed flatly that when trouble broke out he did not reach the scene in time to prevent his a.s.sistant from being injured. There was no reprimand, nothing to indicate that the man had been remiss in any way.

The Seeker continued its mission against the Orions. By the time they reached Conquiidor Dare was on his feet again-and Scoggins a.s.signed him to lead the away team that freed over two hundred Federation citizens from Orion slavery and made Darryl Adin a hero. When the mission ended, Scoggins tendered his resignation and retired from Starfleet with full honors.

Yar read between the lines: Scoggins felt responsible for Dare's injury, and resigned before anyone else got hurt under his command.

But Yar was too young to worry about failing reflexes. As for Dare-well, any man who could beat a whole cla.s.s of senior Starfleet cadets in the toughest security practic.u.m ever devised certainly had nothing to worry about!

Yet the subject of age kept coming up in Dare's speech. "You young people," he called his cla.s.smates until one day when they were working together on a homework a.s.signment in tactical theory, Yar retaliated.

"All right, oh wise old man-show me from your vast experience how to take that hill with seventeen aggressive and well-armed Mercaptan warriors guarding it, when you have only three security personnel!"

There was no such thing as a Mercaptan warrior, the unrepentantly hostile beings were totally imaginary creatures who increased in ferocity and eccentricity as each new cla.s.s of cadets pa.s.sing through the Academy added to their characteristics. Currently, they stood three meters tall, had scales, fur, claws, fangs, and hand-held photon torpedoes.

"Treat it like chess," Dare replied to Yar's outburst.

"Like chess?" she asked, confused. She didn't particularly like chess, while Dare was proficient at virtually every game ever invented, and played them all to win. There was even a story, which she had never been able to verify, that he had once won a klin zha tournament in which all the other players were Klingon.

"We don't have to take all their personnel to win," Dare explained. "All we have to do is trap their king."

"Mercaptans don't have a king," said Yar.

"But they do have something very similar, Tasha," he said.

"Oh, all right," she said grudgingly, admitting the a.n.a.logy. "They follow the commands of the Troop Controller. But they also protect him at all costs."

"So how do we get at him?"

"I have the feeling you know," she replied. "But I don't. He is surrounded on every side by warriors, and has a personal force field as well. There's no way to get to him."

"We don't have to get to him," Dare said. "We only have to trap him."

"But how-?"

"Think, Tasha. Without the guidance of their Troop Controller-"

"Mercaptan warriors turn berserker-as if they weren't bad enough in the first place!"

"That's right. And what do they attack?"

"Anything that gets in their way, including one another. That's an old trick, Dare-but we don't have enough troops to decoy them into a circle or two lines facing each other, and even if we did, we don't have the firepower to destroy their Troop Commander so they'll attack each other."

"You weren't listening, Tasha. I said we'd trap him."

She looked from the glowing screen to Dare's face. "How? With what? I don't see any mine shafts to topple him into."

"At least you're on the right track," he said. "We want him cut off from his warriors-but first, we want them positioned so when the Troop Controller's commands are cut off, their nearest targets will be one another."

Yar looked back at the screen. What could Dare have in mind? Only three Starfleet security personnel to work with. How could they possibly-?

Suddenly her hand leaped to the board, and she punched up the descriptions of the security people. She grinned. "Thonis, an Andorian-but a graduate of the Vulcan Academy of Sciences. There it is: graduate-level cla.s.ses in computer technology, taught by Sarek of Vulcan. Top student in every cla.s.s. With those qualifications, Thonis can inveigle any computer ever built-including the Mercaptan Troop Controller's. All he needs is a tricorder ... yes, there it is, in his equipment inventory. So we have Thonis patch into the computer, order the troops into the position we want, and then short out the Troop Controller's modem circuits before he can counteract the order!"

"You've got it," Dare said smugly.

"You've had this a.s.signment before!" Yar accused.

Dare shook his head. "No. I simply know how important it is to determine the special abilities of all away team personnel. Remember that, Tasha-security people aren't Mercaptan warriors. They are not faceless disposable beings armed with phasers."

"I know that," she said. "I'm one of them, remember?"

"Yet how much do you know of your fellow students' special abilities, beyond their performance in the cla.s.ses specifically designed for security trainees? What musical instrument does Johnson play?"

"Uh, I don't know," Yar admitted.

"Piano," Dare supplied. "And Pringle-why is she so proficient at word processing?"

"She is?"

Dare smiled. "She writes articles, Tasha-in fact, she has had half a dozen published in various horticultural journals while she's been here at the Academy."

"Horticulture? Well, no wonder I didn't know," said Yar. "I've never had any interest in gardening."

"But if you were on an away team with Pringle, and had run out of food concentrate?"

Yar nodded. "Or if there were flesh-eating plants around-yes, Dare, I see your point. Do you know these things about the whole cla.s.s?"

"T'Keris is an expert on architecture. Jessamin's discipline and grace come from a lifetime of ballet. Wokonski sculpts. Por-prenicle is an archaeologist. Verne-"

"Stop!" Yar protested. "You've shamed me enough. I've known these people for three years, and never thought to find out what they do when they're not working on Academy a.s.signments or going out with the gang. You're absolutely right, Dare; I will be sure to find out as much as I can about my fellow crew members before we are put on an away team where some unexpected skill might save the day."

He smiled rea.s.suringly. "Don't feel bad. You're still young, Tasha. With time-"

"Stop that!" she said angrily.

He frowned in puzzlement. "Stop what?"

"Stop talking like you're an old man. You're not my father, Dare!"

"No," he said softly, "I am not your father, Tasha." He looked into her eyes, the glow from the computer screen reflected in his. "And I can't keep up the pretense that my feelings for you are paternal for much longer."

Something stirred inside her, a weird combination of pain and pleasure. "I'm all grown up now, Dare," she said, deliberately stepping closer. She didn't tell him it was the first time she had ever acted upon the unsettling stirring of desire which-after her brutal introduction to s.e.xuality-had only surfaced after years of therapy with Starfleet's Counselors.

Her heart pounded as she entered his personal s.p.a.ce. He could not mistake her intent, nor did he pretend to. "Tasha," he whispered as his arms came naturally and easily about her.

She lifted her face, instinct telling her what she wanted. He smiled the wonderful smile that took all the sternness from the rugged features nature had given him, tilted his head slightly so their noses would not b.u.mp, and kissed her.

With Dare it was easy, natural-and then stirring as the kiss intensified. She went from the warm, sweet sense of homecoming she had felt when she had first set foot in Starfleet Academy to a whole new world of feelings, a completion she had never known before.

And when their lips parted he did not release her, but held her gently against his chest as he whispered into her hair, "Oh, yes, Tasha-you certainly are all grown up."

Chapter Four.

"TASHA?" Lieutenant Commander Data was concerned. His companion had been sitting staring out at the stars for too long. But when Tasha turned, there was the remnant of a smile on her lips. Whatever her thoughts, they must have been pleasant ones. He was glad his clumsy "snooping" had not brought only sad memories.

"I'm all right, Data," she said. "Time heals all wounds."

"That sounds like-"

"An aphorism. Yes. But comments become aphorisms by being repeated, and that happens because they are true. I can never forgive Darryl Adin for betraying Starfleet ... but he was not all evil, Data. n.o.body is, you know. I can remember him now the way he was when I first knew him, strong and brave and clever."

"And handsome?" Data asked. "A knight in s.h.i.+ning armor?"