Chapter Three

Aside from dispensing with the usual tour of the ship – and the added presence of four armed guards, at Arzin's insistence – Droja was otherwise treated as a visiting dignitary and escorted to the nearest conference room. He said little along the way, aside from thanking Data for the hospitality, and most of the walk passed in awkward silence. Once they were seated at the conference table, Droja finally ventured some conversation. "You served aboard the famed Enterprise, didn't you, Captain? Or am I not permitted to ask about such things?"

"It is a matter of public record," Data replied, reasonably. "Yes, I did serve aboard the Enterprise, for several years."

Droja grew more animated. "Then you had the excellent Captain Picard as your mentor. I met him once, you know, not long ago, at a diplomatic conference. The conference was obviously a failure, unfortunately, but I was very impressed with the captain."

"He is a remarkable man. It was a privilege to serve with him."

Droja nodded, lowering his voice. "That is part of the reason why I wished to speak to you face to face, captain. Alone, if that is permissible," he added, after a faint hesitation.

Having anticipated this request, Data gave his reply immediately. "Of course. Wait outside, please," he told the guards. It was easy to guess what Arzin's reaction would be, after all his careful arrangements, though he wouldn't be entirely surprised, either.

Once the guards were gone, Droja's manner changed and he leaned forward, though there was nothing threatening about the gesture. Rather, he still seemed concerned about being overheard, and he kept his voice very low when he spoke again. "Thank you for trusting me, captain. The Corarg recently uncovered some information which I believe you in particular would very much like to know. I'm... not much of a believer in fate, but if I was, I would say that that was what led to our meeting." Now he paused, uneasy. "It is generally thought that the Federation is not given to extensive monitoring of its citizens, but..."

"No, it is not," Data replied. "I do not believe there is any cause for concern, but to help put your mind at rest -" He rapidly made some adjustments to the control panel in front of him. "This will generate a white noise field that will disrupt most forms of remote eavesdropping. But I must ask you, commander – if this information is so sensitive, why is it that you are so anxious to share it with me? I am, after all, the enemy."

"You'll understand when you hear it, captain. Perhaps I should also tell you something about myself, however," he continued, slowly. "Another matter of public record – my own service record, which shows two demotions. Both were because I spoke out too loudly against the Bajoran occupation."

Some of Data's surprise must have shown on his face, for Droja smiled wryly before continuing. "I realize that isn't exactly the norm for my people, but there have always been those of us who have disagreed with some of our government's harsher policies. I am loyal to Cardassia and as ready to fight for my people as anyone... but battle is one thing. The wholesale subjugation of an entire race is quite another. I believe – as I'm sure you do, captain – that every sentient being should be allowed to find their own path. That's why I'm giving you this information, because I think you'll do the right thing. And you are in a position to act, which is more than I can say for myself," he added, dryly.

Data tilted his head, still trying to gauge the Cardassian's truthfulness. Everything he had said so far seemed completely sincere, though Data was very aware that he could not always recognize a bluff, particularly from a stranger. "You seem to be placing a great deal of faith in me, commander, without even knowing me. I find that... curious."

Droja again became more serious. Had Data been asked to guess at the Cardassian's primary emotion at that moment, he would have guessed pity, and the realization made him uneasy. "Again, captain, that's something you'll understand shortly. Tell me, what do you know of the second planet orbiting the star designated UFC 257704?"

This was not the sort of beginning Data had expected, and he frowned, but accessed the information. "It was originally a K Class planet that is in the process of being terraformed to be Class M, for future colonization. A mining operation is based there, as well as a small scientific outpost mainly engaged in tachyon research. Because of this research, spacecraft are routinely routed around the area. The planet is sometimes known as Mudd's World, after the human who first discovered it, Harcourt Fenton Mudd." He again studied Droja, puzzled. "It seems an unremarkable planet," he observed.

"I have learned something about this planet that is not on any official record," Droja said, and now the sympathy in his voice was unmistakable. "You'll understand that I cannot give you details of the source of the information, but it is a source that has previously been reliable. For what it's worth, I believe this is the truth, though we haven't yet had the chance to confirm it. And I must warn you, captain... you will likely find this... disturbing."

Not long after their conversation ended, help arrived and Data was summoned to the bridge. The captain of the USS Exeter was irritated at having been diverted in the first place, and still more irritated to discover that help was no longer needed, though she did grudgingly admit that the Hawking had done well. And she was pleased to leave them the task of towing the scout to the nearest starbase, since the Hawking would need repairs in any case. The Exeter, of course, had much more important duties to attend to.

Though the communication had gone smoothly enough, it wasn't hard for several members of the Hawking's bridge crew to realize how distracted their captain was. He pulled Arzin aside and spoke to him quietly. "Commander Droja has asked to remain here until we reach Starbase 149. He feels he may not be completely welcome aboard his own ship since he has shown us cooperation, and I am inclined to agree. Guest quarters will do, I do not believe he intends to cause any problems, but there should be at least two guards at the door at all times. I would also like you to inform Starfleet of our change of course."

"Yes, sir. But they may ask why we aren't going to Starbase 27 instead. It is closer."

"We are going to Starbase 149," Data said, tightly. "If Starfleet objects – refer them to me."

"Yes, sir," Arzin said, automatically, more alarmed than ever. For a moment, he'd been sure that the captain was about to suggest that Starfleet could go to hell.

After a pause, Data added more calmly, "When you are finished, come and see me in my quarters." He turned and left almost before he'd finished speaking, and then it was Arzin's turn to be distracted during his duties.


Though the crew is largely accustomed to Data's forays to the holodeck to play detective, he and Maya attract more than a few odd and amused glances. Full Victorian dress is still not usual in the corridors of the Enterprise. Data is naturally oblivious, focused on speaking to Maya. "As you know, in the sole story in which she appeared, Irene Adler was Holmes' opponent. For purposes of this story, however, the program is set to allow us to work together to solve the mystery. I thought that would be more fun," he explains, awkwardly emphasizing the last word as he looked to her for agreement.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure it will be," is Maya's distracted reply, as she fusses with her long green satin dress, twitching the skirts first one way, then the other.

"Is there something wrong with your dress?"

"Only that I'm not used to it," she says with a sigh. "Of course this design is completely impractical, but women on Earth functioned in this sort of clothing for centuries, so there must be a way to manage. I just need to solve this particular engineering challenge. Just – catch me if I trip over my own hem, would you?"

"Of course," Data replies with perfect seriousness. "I would never allow you to risk injury if I could prevent it."

Maya smiles wryly, but makes no comment as they arrive at their destination. "Computer," Data says, "run program Data 421A."

The computer chimes in response. "Program initiated. Enter when ready." The doors part to reveal a busy London street of the late 1800's. Data offers Maya his arm with a flourish, and after a brief moment of confusion she takes it.

"This looks very good," she remarks as they step inside and begin to stroll down the street. "Very realistic. Not that I'm any sort of expert, but – it feels right."

Data seems uncertain about this, but says only, "I am glad that you like it. According to my research it is quite accurate, though it is true that there will always be certain less tangible aspects of any era that can be difficult, if not impossible, to verify. The smells, for instance."

"This smells like horses and – would that be coal they're burning?"

"Primarily, yes. There were no clean fuels available at the time."

"Well, that certainly adds to the atmosphere," she says wryly, wrinkling her nose.

They walk together in silence for a few moments, taking in the sights and sounds. Then a cry of "Police! Murder! Help!" echoes down the street, and Data gestures towards the sound, meerschaum pipe in his hand. "The game is afoot!" he says, and the two of them hurry towards the commotion.

An elderly housekeeper in cap and apron is the source of the cries. She runs to and fro on the sidewalk in front of a large house, her cries for help becoming increasingly desperate. When a constable appears she hurries over to him, entreating him to follow her inside just as Maya and Data arrive on the scene.

"Excuse me, constable," Data says in his best British accent. "Perhaps I might be of assistance?"

The constable is about to shoo this far too curious gentleman away when he pauses for a closer look. "Why, is it Mr. Sherlock Holmes? I'd be honored to have your help, sir, honored!"

"Excellent." Data turns to the housekeeper. "Please lead the way, my good woman." The four move towards the house, until the constable balks at realizing that Maya intends to enter as well. "One moment, sir, but I doubt this is a sight for a lady."

"Indeed it is not," says the housekeeper, shuddering.

"There's no need to worry about me, I can look after myself," Maya says, though this statement fails to convince either holographic character and Data is forced to intervene.

"Miss Adler is with me, constable, and I can assure you that you will be glad of her help as well. She is made of sterner stuff than you think."

The constable was dubious but gave in. "Since you vouch for her, Mr. Holmes," he says, reluctantly, and soon all four of them are in the study of the grand house.

It is a fine, well-furnished room, very pleasant if one ignores the dead body near the large brick fireplace. The victim is an older, white-haired man, immaculately dressed. Having been interrupted at his reading, he is now slumped awkwardly against the arm of his chair, his book lying open on the patterned carpet. The cause of death is clear: he has been shot through his left eye with great precision.

As she steps close enough to see this, Maya stops in her tracks, making a faint choking sound and looking quickly away. The constable pointedly clears his throat, while the housekeeper, staying well away from the body, sniffs disapprovingly. Maya takes a deep breath, hastily standing up straight, and moves closer, determined to make up for her momentary weakness.

Data, however, realizes that she is still avoiding actually looking at the holographic corpse and frowns. "Computer, freeze program." The scene obligingly pauses and he looks at Maya curiously. "Are you all right?"

Maya looks down, fussing needlessly with her skirts. "Yes, I'm fine. You didn't have to stop the program."

"Are you certain? It is unlike you to react in such a fashion."

"No, I – I just wasn't expecting quite so much... realism." She gestures towards the body, still not quite looking at it.

"The blood disturbs you, even though it is not real?" he asks, curiously.

"Quite a lot of people find blood disturbing," she says, defensively. "And you must admit it looks very real."

"The holodeck is meant to look real," Data points out, reasonably.

Exasperated, Maya starts to reply, stops herself, then smiles a rare, full smile. "Well, that's it, my secret is out. There's a reason I was never able to become a doctor, and now you know what it is."

Data looks still more puzzled. "You have said several times that you had never wanted to be anything but an engineer – which means that that was a joke."

"Correct."

"I have noticed that you are especially inclined to use humor when you are embarrassed."

Maya nods, then shrugs. "A lot of people do. It is a useful distraction."

"But I do not understand why you would be embarrassed in this particular case. As you said, it is not uncommon to feel squeamish at the sight of blood. Why did you not wish to admit that you found it unpleasant?"

Again she takes a moment to consider this, more seriously this time. "Partly I didn't want to spoil the story... but sometimes I think I also take my former nickname too seriously."

"Your nickname at the Academy. 'The Vulcan'."

"That's the one. After all this time I've gotten used to being the unflappable one, and I don't like feeling flustered or unprepared. It really shouldn't bother me, of course. That happens to everyone. Even you can be caught off-guard."

"Yes, very often by emotional responses," Data says, thoughtfully. "While we do have many interests in common, it appears we have diametrically opposed approaches to emotion."

Maya shakes her head slowly. "I don't think they're necessarily completely opposed. I've never tried to stop myself from feeling emotions, it's really expressing them that's always been – awkward for me. On some level, I've often worried that if I were to show too much emotion, it would... take over somehow."

"Yes, we do agree there," Data says, nodding. "I have often wondered how humans can cope with the more intense emotions. In my extremely limited experience, I... have not been very successful at such coping, to say the least."

"You mean what happened with Lore," she says, gently, and again Data nods.

"Geordi believes that someday I may wish to install the emotion chip... but I am not certain I will ever be willing to take that risk."

Maya steps closer to him, resting a hand on his arm. "Now I'm going to tell you another secret, a real one this time. Despite there being absolutely no scientific basis for it, I believe in intuition. If and when the time is right for you to try the chip, you'll know."

Data studies her for a moment. "But – would you not prefer that I try it now? So that there would be a possibility I would reciprocate your feelings for me."

She blushes faintly, but manages to meet his eyes just the same. "I would prefer that you try it when you're ready. It's entirely possible that it would be less likely to work properly if you didn't feel comfortable with it." She pauses and smiles a little. "Besides, it also isn't uncommon to be nervous about significant changes. No matter how much time you spend trying to guess what will happen, things almost never work out the way you imagined. What if you were to decide that I'm much too grim and serious?" she asks, though her tone is light. "Then we might not even be friends anymore."

"That particular scenario is extremely unlikely," he says, shaking his head. "Excessive seriousness does not seem sufficient reason to end a friendship, and in any case I do not believe I would ever describe you as grim. Even Geordi has said that you have a very good, if dry, sense of humor."

"Has he?" She is surprised and pleased at the idea. "I'm never sure if anyone understands my jokes."

"On the contrary. As a rule, your jokes are generally easier for me to recognize than those of others."

"And this is another reason why I like you as you are," she says, looking even more pleased. "You're the only person I've ever met who can give me a compliment without making me terribly uncomfortable."

"That is another reason why I have long considered you a friend. You have never treated me as anything other than a person."

Maya smiles again, not even thinking to hide it, and stretches up to kiss him. Data stays absolutely still, torn by indecision. When she pulls back, she searches his face for a moment, and though she is far from surprised by what she doesn't find, there is still a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, as much as she tries to hide it.

Data knows enough of human emotion to be aware that he has failed, not for the first time, and he looks uneasy. "I am sorry," he begins, but she quickly shakes her head.

"No, Data, I'm sorry. I shouldn't -" She shakes her head again and takes a half step back. "Really, I do understand the situation, and it's all right. And you certainly don't have to apologize. I'm absolutely fine with things as they are, believe me. I'm very glad we're friends." She reaches out and squeezes his hand. "Now. Shall we get back to the mystery at hand, Mr. Holmes?"

Though he still seems unsettled, he is quick to agree, glad to return to the safe, familiar parameters of the program. "Most definitely, Miss Adler."


Other areas of Data's quarters had slowly begun to accumulate objects both decorative and sentimental, but his desk had so far largely escaped this trend. Here there were only two unnecessary items: a miniature schooner that Geordi had given him when he accepted command of the Hawking, and a holocube. He rarely turned this on – every detail of it was already forever in his memory – but it was active now, displaying an image of Maya's face. Dark-eyed and dark-haired, she was not quite looking at the viewer and not quite smiling, yet the image somehow gave the impression she was on the verge of doing both.

Without thinking, he leaned forward to touch the image, and when his hand found nothing but the air he flinched as though struck. The hologram rippled and reformed as his hand moved away, detailed and lifeless as always, a vivid nothingness.

"Maya," he murmured, then straightened as the door chime sounded. He studied her face for a moment longer, as long as he could bear, then quickly leaned forward and shut off the holocube. "Come in."

Arzin hurried in almost before Data spoke. "What happened? Sir," he added belatedly. "I'm sorry, I just -"

Had he been any less shaken, Data might have smiled. "You were concerned that I was not behaving like myself," he said.

"Well, yes, sir. What exactly did that Cardassian say?"

"Sit down, Arzin." The Trill did so, looking more concerned than ever, and Data hesitated a moment, considering his words before continuing. "I would like to tell you what Commander Droja told me, but the matter is – difficult. If his statement is true – and I have been able to verify some details – then it does not reflect well on the Federation or Starfleet. For that reason, this conversation must be entirely unofficial and off the record. If that bothers you for any reason, then I will understand if you would rather not continue."

Though clearly surprised, Arzin did not hesitate. "No, I'd rather know, sir. I'd rather help, if I can. Whatever you say won't leave this room."

Data nodded gratefully. "That is what I had hoped you would say. I am very much in need of a more objective opinion, and I value yours."

"Thank you, sir."

"The Cardassian scout was not here merely for general reconnaissance. They also met with an informant they have somewhere in this sector, an informant that has previously given them accurate intelligence, though I do not know this person's identity. According to the source, there is a secret, underground Starfleet base on a planet not far from here that is engaged in highly classified research involving a method of creating shock troops for the war against Cardassia."

Arzin was taken aback. "Creating troops?"

"Yes," Data nodded grimly. "This is why I need a fresh perspective on the matter. The base has begun creating androids which are to be programmed solely for combat positions and sent out into the most intense areas of fighting. They are meant to be a way for Starfleet to counteract the Jem'Hadar troops that have been so difficult to stop."

The Trill shook his head, momentarily at a loss for words. "Time and time again the Federation has denounced the Founders for creating the Jem'Hadar, and now the Federation wants to do exactly the same thing. They want to produce expendable soldiers." He sat back in his chair, taking a deep breath. "No wonder you were so upset. This – this isn't right. This is exactly the sort of thing that should be outlawed."

Data tilted his head. "Federation law has always been somewhat lacking when it comes to the rights of androids and other artificial beings," he said, darkly, and again Arzin looked at him in concern.

"I suppose we can't exactly make a formal protest."

"It would do no good. Any protests will be suppressed just as the very existence of the facility has been suppressed. And yet I cannot allow this to continue without doing everything possible to stop it." He paused, realizing he was becoming agitated, and made an effort to calm himself. "My apologies, Arzin. I am not yet used to dealing with such – frustration."

"I doubt anyone ever gets used to dealing with frustration like this," Arzin said, leaning forward again. "But you don't have to face it alone, sir. I meant what I said, I want to help if I possibly can. We'll work something out. Now, tell me more. You said you were able to verify some parts of the story?"

Data nodded, feeling a slight but distinct wave of relief. He thought of what Maya had said, about morale and the human need to feel that they were not facing dangers alone. And there was danger here, though not the kind he usually had to contend with. "Yes, I was. The facility, you understand, was not originally constructed by the Federation. It was built many centuries ago by a humanoid race which depended upon the androids they created to meet their needs and wants. The humanoids later died out and the androids were left to their own devices. Approximately 107 years ago, the original Constitution-class Enterprise rediscovered the facility."

"They've been covering this up for over a century?"

"I believe so. According to the official record, a human trader named Harcourt Fenton Mudd stumbled across the planet while fleeing an arrest warrant for fraud from Deneb V. The Enterprise crew at the time had previously encountered Mr. Mudd, and since they were in that area, it was they who apprehended him and turned him into the proper authorities. Since the planet was found to have good mineral resources, the Federation formally claimed it."

"Now that's odd right there. A Starfleet ship enforcing a planetary arrest warrant? I don't think I've ever even heard of that."

"It has happened only twice before. In both instances, the individual in question was a violent criminal – which Mr. Mudd was not – and was also suspected of having committed crimes against the Federation as a whole, which again was not the case here."

"So that's at least one reason to be suspicious. Is there an unofficial record? Why was the Enterprise really in that area?"

"That is the second reason to be suspicious," Data said, and again his tone darkened. "The ship had previously been ordered to another sector. They were due to be some twelve light-years away at the time they were supposedly tracking Mr. Mudd. The ship's logs contain no explanation for this discrepancy. In fact, most of the relevant portions are unavailable. Classified."

"And why would Starfleet classify the records of the capture of a minor criminal? That doesn't make any sense, either."

"Now you see why I am inclined to believe the commander's story," Data said, quietly.

Arzin nodded unhappily. "There are a lot of inconsistencies. And the tachyon research... that's an awfully convenient excuse to keep ships away. No, there's definitely something going on there. We need to investigate further – and I suppose we'll have the time while the Hawking is in for repairs," he added dryly. "If we can find out exactly what's happening then we can come up with a plan."

Data felt uneasy, and a moment later realized that it was guilt causing this. He had known perfectly well that Arzin would want to help, and had counted on that. But he truly wasn't sure that he could handle this properly by himself, and there was no one else here he could trust. The problem hit so close to home, and there were so many potential consequences that would reach far beyond himself and any androids that they might find. And there were so many unexpected possibilities suddenly before him, things that he had never allowed himself to consider.

"I must remind you, Arzin, that if you actively assist in any investigation and we are discovered, it will likely mean the end of both our careers. I have already decided that I am willing to take the risk, but for you this is less – personal. You must consider the matter carefully. I would understand completely if you would prefer not to be directly involved."

"That's all right, sir. My parents never wanted me to join Starfleet in the first place," Arzin said wryly. Then, realizing that Data did not seem to find this at all reassuring or amusing, he continued more seriously. "I know you're trying to look out for me, sir, and I appreciate it. But... when I was in the Academy, my philosophy professor had a favorite quote that's become one of my favorites. 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.' So I am going to help you, sir, whether you like it or not,"

Data paused, suddenly very aware of his good fortune, then stood and held out his hand. "Thank you, Arzin," he said, simply.

The Trill stood with him and shook the offered hand. "You're welcome, Data."