Hi! Thank you so much for your reviews, and your suggestions! I thought long and hard about types of horses, their abilities, and their needs, and the ones I picked are the Arabian, Buckskin gelding, Paint, and Akhal-teke (which I'd never heard of but is really beautiful!) I considered the Clydesdale, but thought it might not be all that suited for a hot, sandy desert. So, thanks again everyone, and I really hope you enjoy this next part! :)

Chapter Four

"Is the wind going to be like this the whole trip?" Riker asked, holding up an arm to shield his eyes from the coarse, swirling sand that seemed to get absolutely everywhere. In his hair, in his boots, in his ears, up his nose…

"Here, wear these," Picard said, handing him a pair of overlarge, almost goggle-like sun-shades off the display tower in the battered supply tent. "They'll protect your eyes from the wind, sand, sun, and from drying out."

"Very stylish…" Riker muttered wryly. "Deanna, Data?" he called out. "Last chance to grab extra gear and supplies. We won't see another supply tent until we get to the first site."

Deanna ducked into the tent, looking thoroughly harassed as she twisted her loose, shoulder-length hair into a tight, efficient bun and secured it with an elaborate clip she dug out from her rucksack.

"Is the wind going to be like this the whole trip?" she asked.

Riker grinned and handed her a pair of shades.

"These should help," he said. "Hey, Data, you want a pair?"

"Thank you, sir," the android accepted, his stiff posture and composed bearing thoroughly regulation. Riker sighed.

"Never mind the wind, are you going to be like this the whole trip?"

"Sir?"

"The way you've been acting all day! It's like you're a cadet on review. Loosen up a little! We're supposed to be having an adventure!"

"Is that an order, sir?"

"Does it have to be, Data?"

The android stared past Riker's shoulder for a beat, then smoothly slipped into an at-ease stance, his feet spread and his hands behind his back.

"Is this more acceptable, sir?"

Riker's expression grew grim, and he strode across the cluttered kiosk to Deanna.

"Do you know what this is all about?" he asked, gesturing to Data with his thumb.

"Data thinks I'm angry with him, and believes that he's only been invited on this trip as part of some ongoing psychological evaluation," Troi told him, though her eyes were on Data. "If we can't convince him that clamping down on his emotions is a surer way to a mandatory leave of absence than letting himself be himself, I'm afraid we're going to be stuck with The Perfect Starfleet Officer for the next two weeks."

"Urgh!" Riker gave a theatrical shudder. "Is there anything more annoying?"

His eyes slid over to Data, whose calm expression had soured into a scowl. Quite aware he was being watched, the android broke his perfect posture, shifting his hips and crossing his arms.

"I know you know that I can hear you," he stated.

"Then how about you come over here and join the conversation?" Riker said.

Data gave a world-weary sigh and stalked across the space as requested. Riker struggled to hold back a smirk. Drawing on the psychic bond he shared with Deanna, he projected to her: See? What did I tell you? Is that teenage behavior or what?

Deanna shot him a 'look,' along with a sharp Betazoidian sensation he knew meant 'hush up,' then turned a welcoming smile on Data.

"There, you see?" she said. "We don't bite, and we're not here to judge you on protocol and decorum. This is an opportunity to share some time together without Starfleet rank and discipline getting in the way. Here, we'll just be four friends, out to see the sights."

"Forgive me if I question your motives, Counselor," Data said flatly. "But since when have you been interested in the ancient Exo-Akkadian civilizations of Ninevah IV? Or chosen to spend your leave time riding horseback through harsh sun and sandstorms?"

"Did it ever occur to you that we might be doing this for the captain?" she retorted.

"No," Data replied. "Since he told me himself that it was your idea for the three of us to accompany him on what was to have been a solo expedition. And that you proposed this idea only after my outburst in your office."

Riker looked amused.

"Looks like he's got you there, Counselor," he said.

Troi pursed her lips. Data's expression hardened, but his golden eyes seemed vulnerable, even hurt, at her unspoken confirmation of his suspicions.

"Data," Riker said, "It's true. Maybe this planet, this expedition, isn't really to our taste – mine or Deanna's. But, maybe that's not the point."

"No. Perhaps the point is for three superior officers to observe how their emotionally volatile android subordinate responds to a radically different physical and social environment," Data snapped, drawing back from them. "I may be inexperienced when it comes to emotion and intuition, but I am not stupid. I intend to prove to you all, once and for all, that I am every bit as deserving of my post and position as I ever was, my emotion chip notwithstanding. If you will excuse me."

Data strode out of the tent in the direction of the stables. Riker raised an eyebrow at Troi.

"Well, that told him," he said.

"Oh, shut up," she retorted, then sighed. "He really is very sensitive, isn't he? Perceptive, too. The captain was right – we're going to have to be completely upfront with him about our concerns. Any beating around the bush he'll take as a criticism, or a sign we no longer trust him."

Riker nodded a little. "Funny thing is," he said, "he's always been that way hasn't he. Anxious…desperate to please, to fit in… And always so worried about his differences, his perceived shortcomings, holding him back like a tether that would only let him progress so far… You know, I don't think that emotion chip's really changed him at all. If anything, it's making him feel for himself what we already knew about him."

Troi averted her eyes, considering. "Perhaps…" she allowed. "But, my concern is that, if he keeps stifling his feelings, as he's been doing—"

"Ah, Troi, Will, I picked up some extra emergency rations and water packs," Picard announced, hefting his overstuffed rucksack over his shoulders and clipping the straps together across his chest and hips. "Along with some rope and a few other bits of gear we might find useful. Time to pick out our mounts. I must say, I've been looking forward to this. Where's Data?"

"He's gone to the stables ahead of us," Riker told him.

"Then, what are we standing around here for?" Picard said cheerfully. "Let's go see those horses!"

"Data, get back on your horse," Picard said for what felt like the fifteenth time since they'd set out. "All that sand down there can't be good for your systems."

"I do not mind the sand," Data replied, walking just ahead and to the left of the Buckskin gelding the stable manager had assigned to him. "And, I do not believe this horse likes me. Why could I not have taken the thoroughbred? She nuzzled my hand, and seemed most friendly."

"You know as well as I do, that horse was too young and too fine-boned to carry both you and your gear."

"I said I was willing to walk," Data protested. "As I am walking now."

"Data!" Picard sighed, and rested his hand on the neck of his sleek, white Arabian. "These horses are not pets. They are work animals. The Buckskin has the strength and endurance to be of practical use to this expedition. That skinny little filly was not for you. Now get back in that saddle and let the horse do its job."

"Commander Riker's Paint horse is quite sturdy. I could switch with him."

"Data, that's enough," Troi said, from the saddle of her slender Akhal-teke, a breed of horse originating from Turkmenistan. Its electric black coat seemed to shimmer blue and violet as it moved through the desert sun. "The stable manager knew what he was doing when he assigned us these horses. And I think your horse is reacting more to the attitude you have shown him than on any animosity he might feel toward you."

Data stopped walking and shot the Buckskin a suspicious look that was mostly masked by his sun-goggle shades. The tall horse stared back at him, as if daring the android to climb on its back.

"How do you see me, Sagebrush?" he asked the horse, keeping his voice low so Troi and the others couldn't hear as they moved on ahead. "Am I a strange machine to you, or just another rider?"

Slowly, Data reached out a pale hand. The horse stepped closer. Data closed the distance between them, letting the horse smell his right hand as he gently stroked its mane and neck with his left.

"Perhaps it was me," he said, with some surprise. "You do not seem unfriendly after all. I apologize if my attitude offended you."

The horse snorted and nudged him, evoking a smile from the android.

"You wish to catch up with the others? Very well," he said, and climbed effortlessly up into the saddle. He took a moment to look around, marveling a little at the vast, arid landscape that stretched for miles in every direction – a landscape that seemed static and lifeless but was, in fact, in constant flux. The swirling winds blew the sand into rippling waves and arching mounds and gullies, molded by the rocky hills and distant mountains, while tiny sand lizards, insects, and arachnids sought the shade and shelter offered by small, hostile clumps of native cacti.

The trail they were following was well marked, but as he and his horse hurried to close the gap between them and the rest of the group, the android noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. Three parallel lines, barely visible, appeared to veer off from the path, as if some force, stronger than the constant wind, had blown the sand into that pattern. Data accessed his memory banks, comparing those lines with any sort of natural or unnatural force, creature, or vehicle that could have left such marks, then blinked at the result.

"Sand speeders?" He frowned, and urged his horse to pass Troi and Riker and come up beside the captain.

"Captain," he said. "I saw something, back there." He gestured.

Picard turned his head, but saw only sand.

"What was it?" he asked.

"Three parallel marks in the sand, sir," the android reported. "They were quite shallow and all but eroded by the wind, but I believe they were left by three sand speeders, not more than thirty minutes ago."

"Sand speeders?" Picard repeated with a frown. "But all ground vehicles are banned on this planet. How could three sand speeders have slipped past the planetary security field?"

"I do not know," Data said. "But I thought it would be best to let you know what I saw. And to warn you that whoever is riding those speeders is likely to still be out there."

"Thank you, Data," Picard said. "You did the right thing. But, I don't think this is anything to get worried over. Those speeders could belong to anyone from wealthy thrill-seekers to local law enforcement."

Data nodded.

"Perhaps I did overreact…"

Picard regarded him.

"Did I say that, Data?"

Data blinked and considered.

"No."

"Then why do you automatically leap to the conclusion that you did something wrong?"

Data seemed to shrug.

"I do not know. Perhaps…I am projecting my own sense of…insecurity…to others? Anticipating a rejection before it can…hurt me. As I did with poor Sagebrush, here, who is not unfriendly at all. Just proud."

Picard smiled a little.

"You're a good man, Mr. Data," he said. "I'm waiting for you to start believing that again. Now, I want you to keep an eye out for those sand speeders," he said, speaking right over and past the android's puzzled look. "It'll be a few hours yet before we make camp. If we're to expect company, I don't want any surprises."

"Aye, sir," Data said, and fell back to the rear, where he could observe his companions and their surroundings without obstruction.

To Be Continued…

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