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Chapter Fourteen

"How long is he going to be like this?" Ishta groaned, kicking long gouges in the sand to express her exasperation.

"Duh! Until he wakes up," Kahlestra snapped back, brushing the kicked up sand from Data's clothes. "And will you stop doing that! I already have enough sand in my hair, thank you very much."

Ishta bared her teeth in a snarl, but stalked back to the group, crossing her arms and sinking down with her back against the protruding concrete.

Following the sandstorm, Howard had broken the link he shared with Data to preserve his own waning power reserves, and Data's diagnostic shields had immediately snapped back to default. The faint energy field remained operative even though he lay unconscious, protecting his exposed face and hands from the pervasive sand and wind, invisible unless the sand made direct contact.

Ishta growled.

"This sucks!" she cried. "I'm starving, it's getting dark, and Mr. I'm-Not-A-Robot over here is showing absolutely no signs of coming back online any time soon. I say we leave him here and start moving. If that Nausicaan and the other guard should come back from the city hospital and find us here and their hideout totally smashed—"

"What do you mean, leave him?" Kahlestra interrupted. "He saved our lives, you heartless qoH!"

"Yeah, and that's great," Ishta said. "I'm alive. Yay! But that doesn't make looking after this…thing…my responsibility! Especially if staying here means risking my life – a life, as you say, he tried to save! I mean seriously, what would be the point of that?"

"Orion Ha'DIbaH!" Kahlestra spat. "Have you no sense of community? Of honor?"

Ishta gave a derisive snort.

"You're such a phony," she said, "standing there judging me like you know who I am, what I've been through, what it means that I've managed to survive even this long when so many…so many others…"

She clenched her fists and bared her teeth, her blue eyes blazing.

"You can preach about community and honor, little Klingon, but as far as I'm concerned, you can take your broken family and your swaggering, macho culture and choke on it! No one's ever, ever given a flying damn about me, so if I—"

"Data does," Mikey said quietly from where he was lying, curled up in Howard's lap.

"Data is a machine, Cancer-Boy," Ishta snarled. "A computer with arms and legs! Don't fool yourself. All that stuff he said…it's programed in. Gotta be. I mean, just look at him. Look at his face, those stupid, ugly blinking lights! I'm not about to risk death or worse – recapture – for some weird…android…thing like that!"

Mikey frowned and slowly straightened up.

"I don't think you're very nice," he said.

"And I should care what you think?" she scoffed.

Ishta flicked her thick, dark hair over her shoulder and glared down at the boy.

"Show me a guy who can actually get me out of this mess, and I can be as nice as he wants," she said.

"Ha'DIbaH," Kahlestra muttered again, and shook her head in disgust. She walked to Data and sat pointedly by his side.

"Fine," she said. "Go. Leave us. We don't want you."

Ishta chuffed an incredulous laugh.

"No way."

"Yes way," Kahlestra said. "Seriously, if you don't want to stay here with us, get going. I'm sure you can make it through this desert just fine on your own. In the dark."

Ishta looked at her askance.

"So, you're truly going to stay there? All night? With…that."

She jutted her chin toward Data.

"If necessary," Kahlestra stated. "We all go, or we all stay. That's how it is."

"Oh, that's how it is," Ishta said, nodding. "Except for me, of course. Me, you don't want."

Kahlestra crossed her arms and glared.

"You know, I have had enough of you and your words," she growled. "Commander Data told us not to fight, but I swear by Kahless, if you don't—"

"What? Who's all words now, Klingon," Ishta spat threateningly, straightening to her full height and shifting her hips into a wider stance. "Come on, I'm right here. Why don't you show me what a tough little warrior you really are. Or, is that term reserved only for the males in your culture?" She snorted. "Did your father really want a son, Kahlestra? Is that why your parents really split up?"

Kahlestra roared in incoherent rage and she lunged at the Orion. Her moves were backed by skill and practice, but the young Orion was surprisingly quick and far stronger than her slender frame implied. Within moments, she had flipped the younger Klingon on her back, but Kahlestra kicked a weak point at the back of the Orion's knee, causing her to topple into the sand. Kahlestra surged after her, grabbing for her exposed, green neck, but something clamped onto the back of her tunic, lifting her off the Orion and into the air.

Kahlestra kicked and snarled and bit, infuriated by her inability to free herself, until an unexpected voice cut through her red haze of fury, causing her to blink and finally focus on her captor.

"I am here to serve."

"Howard?" she exclaimed. "Let me go!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you metal idiot!" came Ishta's voice, and Kahlestra realized the one-armed robot held the young Orion helplessly writhing under his foot. She almost started laughing at the sight.

"You children must not fight," the greenish robot asserted in his upbeat, announcer-voice. "Master Data ordered me to keep you safe. I am here to serve."

"Serve who?" Ishta snarled. "Us or him?"

"Master Data ordered me to keep you safe," Howard repeated. "To serve Master Data is to serve you. I am here to keep you safe."

"By crushing my ribcage?" Ishta exclaimed. "How about you serve me by getting the hell off and letting me breathe! It may be getting dark, but this sand down here is still damn hot!"

"My function is to serve. To serve, I must keep you safe," Howard persisted. "If I remove my foot, you and this other child will again attempt to injure one another. I cannot allow that. I am here to serve."

"By the deities!" Ishta cried. "Talk about a one-track mind!"

"Howard," Kahlestra said. "What if we both pledge to honor Commander Data's orders and agree we won't fight? Would you let us go then?"

"I am here to serve. To serve, I must keep you safe," Howard repeated.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Ishta said, squirming and pounding ineffectually at the robot's metal ankle with her fists.

"You promised Master Data you would not fight," Howard said. "Yet, you fought. It is, therefore, reasonable to assume that were I to let you go, you would fight again. I cannot allow that. I am here to serve."

"Gahh!" Ishta yelled, banging at Howard's ankle three more times before lying, spread-eagled, in the sand. "Hey, you, Cancer-Boy," she shouted to Mikey. "How about you grab that phaser rifle over there and put this idiot robot out of my misery!"

"How about I don't," Mikey said, sitting cross-legged beside Data. "I like Howard."

"Traitor," Ishta muttered. "I so hate you all…"

"What are you doing over there, Mikey?" Kahlestra asked, shooting the boy a suspicious frown from her awkward, dangling position.

"Data said he needed food before he passed out," Mikey told her, and scooted closer to Data's prone form. With an air of great gravitas, like a doctor examining his patient, he held open one silvery eyelid, then the other, then held his small hand gently over the android's mouth.

"His eyes move, and he's breathing," Mikey pronounced. "I think he's dreaming. Maybe, if we get him something to eat, he'll wake up faster."

"Right," Ishta said. "And how exactly are we supposed to do that with this hulking metal moron standing on my chest?"

"We could hunt…if Howard lets me down," Kahlestra suggested. "I know a lot about the animals on this planet. I've been stuck here all summer, and my mother sometimes grants me permission to hunt. With that phaser rifle, I could bag us a brace of ground cuckoos, or desert hare. Those come out of hiding at around this time to feed."

"Well, Howie?" Ishta said. "What do you say? Will you let us go so Lil' Miss Hunter over here can slaughter us a few helpless animals?"

"Orion qoH!" Kahlestra snarled, her dark eyes burning. "I am a Klingon! The hunt is in my blood and in my heritage, and I will not be mocked by the likes of you."

"What's that supposed to mean, 'the likes of me'?" Ishta demanded. "You still judging me, little Klingon, even from up there? I'll have you know—"

"Stop!"

The two children turned their heads and stared, surprised to see Data on his feet, the blinking lights dotting his skull casting a soft glow around him in the growing dimness.

"Commander!" Kahlestra cheered happily. "You're all right!"

"Hip-hooray, my heart skips with joy," Ishta said sardonically. "How about you order your robot lackey to get his filthy metal foot off of me already?"

"Howard, please release the children."

"I am here to serve," Howard said, removing his foot from Ishta's chest and gently lowering Kahlestra to the ground.

Ishta climbed to her feet and kicked the robot in the shin, only to wince and limp back to the protruding chunk of concrete that served as their temporary shelter, muttering all the way.

Data regarded her, then Kahlestra, his weariness still evident in his posture and voice.

"I take it you girls have been fighting again," he said, coming to sit beside them as he, Howard, and the three children formed a little huddle against the encroaching night.

"Only a little," Mikey said. "Howard stopped them before it got too bad."

"Thank you, Howard," Data said.

"I am here to serve," the robot told him.

"Suck up," Ishta muttered, but Howard had lapsed into still silence, oblivious to the dirty looks both Ishta and Kahlestra were shooting at him.

"He needs some time to recharge. These past hours have been exceptionally draining, for both of us," Data said, and sighed tiredly. "So, apart from the fight, is there anything to report?"

"Yeah," Ishta said. "We're not in Starfleet. You don't have to talk to us like we're your minions or something."

Data blinked, confused.

"I'm sorry?"

"She's just being a jerk, Commander," Kahlestra said. "I'd like to report on the supply situation."

"Namely, that we don't have any," Ishta muttered into her knees.

Kahlestra glared.

"Can you shut up for, like, five minutes? Seriously, just five minutes!"

Ishta wrinkled her nose.

"Would that be five minutes all in a row or sort of broken up throughout the day? Because I can do that second one if—"

"Good grief – you see what she's like!" Kahlestra exclaimed. "She does this on purpose, I know she does. She wants to make me hit her!"

Data sighed again and lowered his head to his hands.

"Commander?" Kahlestra said, touching his arm. "Data, are you OK?"

"I…have never before operated at such low power levels," he admitted. "I am feeling oddly…unfocused. A most peculiar sensation. I'm not sure I like it."

"You're just tired," the Klingon assured him. "A good meal and some more sleep and you'll be just fine. Which brings me back to what I was trying to say before I was interrupted."

She glared at Ishta, who made a point of lying back and staring up at the darkening sky.

"You wish to hunt for game," Data said.

"Evening is the perfect time," Kahlestra said eagerly.

"I agree," Data said. "We will all require nutrition if we are to continue our journey to the compound. With no supplies readily at hand, hunting seems to be our best option. I will—"

He started to stand, then swayed dizzily and sank back down against the wall, a slightly shaky hand pressed to his forehead.

"Ooph… Oh my…" he gasped, and swallowed. "Oh…I…I don't feel well…"

"You should stay put, Commander," Kahlestra said, reaching for the phaser rifle and adjusting the settings with a highly experienced air. "Try to rest. I'll be back in half an hour. An hour, tops."

"Kay, wait," Data said. "While I have every trust in your abilities, I do not believe it is wise for you to go alone, especially as we will have no way to communicate should something go wrong."

"I'll go with her," Mikey volunteered. "I took my supplement dose when I gave you yours."

Data frowned confusedly at the boy.

"Explain," he said.

Mikey reached in the pocket of his tunic and held up an old-model hypospray.

"My body has a hard time fighting infections and stuff because I'm so sick," he explained, "so I have to take these daily vitamin supplements. The hypo materializes them one dose at a time. I took mine, then I thought, if I gave you some too, you'd wake up faster, and it worked."

"So it did," Data said, and shook his head. "Intriguing."

"So, can I go?" Mikey asked. "My uncle showed me how to shoot, and I can help carry whatever we catch."

"I'll watch out for him," Kahlestra said.

Data seemed reluctant. He pursed his lips and turned his eyes first to Ishta, who gave him a dark 'don't even think about it' look, then to Howard.

"Howard?" he said. "Have you recovered sufficiently to accompany Kay and Mikey?"

Howard's photoelectric eyes went from dim to bright and he stood.

"I am here to serve," he said. "I will keep the children safe."

Data nodded and leaned back against the concrete, his golden eyes beginning to close.

"Thank you, Howard," he said wearily, and his head lolled heavily against his shoulder, the blinking lights in his skull beginning to slow.

Mikey touched the android's forehead, as if checking his temperature, then turned to the others.

"He's asleep again," he said. "I guess the shot wore off."

"OK, then," Kahlestra said. "Howard and Mikey will come with me on the hunt. You," she glared pointedly at Ishta, "stay here and guard Commander Data until we return with the meat. Then we'll all be 'safe.'"

"Guard him with what?" Ishta said. "You're taking the phaser rifle! And what if you don't return, huh? That Nausicaan jerk and his pal are still out there, remember?"

Kahlestra bared her teeth.

"I nearly took that Orion bastard's eye out," she said. "Trust me, it'll take more than a few measly hours to piece that mess back together, especially with the crap medical equipment they've got in what passes for a capital city on this backwater world. In fact, I hope they can't put his face back together. I want him to stay blind! His scars will teach him that no one touches me like that. No one. Ever!"

She shuddered hard at the memory of coming to consciousness with that hulking man so near, and almost lashed out at Ishta. The Orion girl grabbed her flailing arms and pushed her away, but something in her expression had changed...if just slightly.

"Go on, go hunt," she said, and stalked back to sit beside Data. "Take it out on some poor, stupid animal. I'll stay here with the android."

Kahlestra grunted and held the rifle close, her every sense on the alert.

"Come on," she said to Howard and Mikey. "Let's find some food before we all pass out from hunger."

Data stood alone on the desert trail, the blazing sun making his face feel uncomfortably hot. He adjusted his sun goggles and pulled down the brim of his hat, but it did little to soothe the burning feeling.

"Forget to wear your sun protector?"

Data turned to see his horse, Sagebrush, standing behind him, his long tail swishing.

"Ultraviolet rays can harm your skin, you know," the horse said, and wandered off, his graceful form vanishing into the hazy light.

"Wait!" Data called after him. "I was not aware you could talk! There are questions I would like to ask you!"

But, the horse had gone, and so had the sunlight. Stars now bloomed overhead, and the world around him had turned dark and quiet and cool.

A slow, rhythmic clanging sounded just ahead, and Data followed it, experiencing a peculiar sense of déjà vu. The clanging led him to a cave, and he ducked inside, where a blacksmith stood before a roaring fire, hard at work with his hammer and anvil.

Data came up beside him, his pulse quickening with anticipation as he waited for the man to turn, to notice he was there…

"Father…?"

"Oh, no, Data," the Borg Queen said, her smooth, gray features gleaming in the flickering firelight.

Data backed away in horror, only to collide with the cave wall, scraping his hand against the rough stone. He winced in pain and looked down, shocked to see bright, red blood seeping from the wound. He brought his scraped knuckle to his mouth, as he'd seen humans do, and the Borg Queen laughed: a cold, mocking sound.

"How does it feel, Data," she said, her slinky, seductive tone sending an unsettling chill up his spine as she moved toward him. She ran a bony finger along the contour of his jaw and it tickled, causing him to shudder, hard. "To finally have what you always wanted?"

"I…do not understand," Data said, struggling not to look at her face, her piercing dark eyes.

"Of course you do, Data," she whispered, her dry lips moving against his ear. "You know you can't hide from me."

"Actually, I believe I was quite effective in concealing myself from you," Data retorted, leaning as far away from her as he could.

"If that's true," she breathed, "how did I manage to get so deep under your skin…"

She ran her fingers through his hair, then brought them to a point just above his ears. Her bluish nails dug painfully into his flesh and she pulled hard, peeling it back to reveal a horrific, pulsing mass of muscle tissue and gore…

Data sat up with a gasp and brought his hands to his face, relieved beyond measure to feel metal and plastic and the faint, static tingle of his diagnostic shields. His internal chronometer told him he'd only been out for seventeen minutes, yet that awful nightmare had seemed so much longer…

"Bad dream?" Ishta asked.

"Oh, yeah," he admitted, lowering his hands with a sigh. "But it is over now."

"If you say so," she said.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged, her green coloring making her difficult to see in the dark, even with his enhanced vision.

"Nothing," she said. "I get nightmares all the time. It's no big deal."

"Actually, it is," Data said. "I have learned that nightmares indicate something is wrong, even if you cannot consciously perceive the problem. It is unwise to ignore or disregard such a warning."

"Fine, then. What's wrong with you?" she asked.

Data lowered his eyes.

"A great deal, I'm afraid," he said, then chuffed a slight laugh. "In fact, that sums it up pretty well. I'm afraid."

"So? Who isn't?" Ishta said.

Data regarded her.

"You are extremely cynical for one so young."

"You think?" she said. "Well, I'd tell you my life story, but then you might end up with the impression that you know me and you don't, so…"

She crawled through the sand like a slinky cat, then slid her hands slowly up his legs.

"Why don't we try something else instead," she said through a smile. "The others are still away on that hunt. As long as they're gone, I can do anything…be anything you want…"

Data caught her hands and looked her in the eye.

"I'd like you to be yourself," he said. "I wish for you to enjoy the experience of being the child that you are. It is an experience I never had, and will never know."

Ishta froze for a moment, her expression slack. Then, she sat back and smirked, pulling her hands away from his.

"Well. Guess you are a robot after all," she said bitingly. "A real man would know what to do with a willing Skin."

Data shook his head.

"If that is what you believe, then you have never met a 'real' man. And, for that, I am very sorry."

"Oh, don't you dare," Ishta said, a dangerous light sparking in her eyes. "Don't you dare pity me, android."

"It is not pity I feel for you, Ishta, but concern," Data said. "The abuses you must have suffered in your brief life…I can't begin to imagine. Such…terrible experiences… It is clear they have caused you to develop this tough, emotional shell that, no doubt, has helped you survive to this point. But, while selfish, competitive behaviors and the manipulation of those you perceive to hold authority may be effective survival mechanisms, if you wish to work effectively within a group, you must learn when it is appropriate to set aside your anger and cynicism and put your trust in others. To form friendships. Even at the risk of being hurt, or even betrayed, by those you've come to care for."

He looked at her, his golden eyes tight with painful memories.

"I…knew a woman once," he told her. "She was…a very close, very dear friend of mine. She served as Security Chief aboard my ship…years ago…"

"And I should care, because…?" Ishta snarked.

"I don't know," Data said. "Maybe you shouldn't. It's just…in many ways, you remind me of her."

"That so," she said flatly.

"Yes," Data confirmed. "She was born to a world that had fallen into lawless anarchy. The violence she endured…the bargains and compromises she made just to stay alive…"

Ishta glanced at him, her brow creasing slightly when she saw the look on his face. It was a look, not of disdain or disappointment…but of esteem. He respected this woman, whoever she was. It made Ishta start to wonder…might this android man possibly respect her too? Did she want him to?

"What happened," she asked through a yawn, feigning disinterest.

"She did survive," he said, his voice bright with admiration. "She escaped that world but, unfortunately, not the damage. The emotional fallout followed her through the academy and far into her career. By the time we met…"

He shrugged a little, and offered Ishta a small smile.

"I suppose…in a way…you are rather like the girl I always imagined she had been...before she learned to believe in herself, and to accept that she was valued…even loved…by those around her. I think she must have been quite cruel and calloused, manipulative and pitilessly selfish. Filled with an anger so deep and harsh, it turned even hopeful dreams into haunting nightmares."

Ishta looked away, her jaw clamped tight. She only began to turn back when she felt him take her hand.

"Ishta," he said. "There is a vast difference between the act of love, and the emotion. Real love hinges on respect. And respect is something that cannot be bought or sold. It must be earned. By both parties."

Ishta shook her head, pulling her hand away and hugging her legs to her chest.

"I don't believe in love," she said. "Respect, maybe. But love…"

She rested her chin against her knees.

"I've never seen it," she mumbled.

"Nor had I," Data told her. "Until I made my first friend."

"How old were you?" she asked.

"Twenty-six," he said.

She snorted.

"Seriously? That's pretty sad, android."

"Depends on how you look at it," Data said. "It is entirely possible that I may not have been capable of sustaining a true friendship before I reached that stage of my cognitive development. If that is the case, you already have me beat."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He smiled at her.

"You've already made a friend."

Ishta regarded him for a long moment, then chuffed a short, wry laugh.

"You are so full of it, you know that?"

"Perhaps," Data allowed. "But I am not lying, Ishta. You stayed here with me while I was unconscious despite the potential danger. You could have run off, even employed violence to ensure your escape, and you didn't. I admire that."

Ishta shivered a little, deeply discomfited by his appraisal. She buried her face deeper against her knees and began to rock, very slowly.

"My mother…" she muffled. "She was a very high-priced slave. She was extremely skilled at using her natural pheromones to, essentially, drug wealthy men, to get them to do her bidding. When she used up one man's fortune, she put herself back on the market to snare another. When I was…four years old… The man she was with began… Well, he began to pay more attention to me than to her. She…sold me…basically to get rid of the distraction. But, I fought, and I fought hard. I screamed whenever I was brought to auction. Eventually, the bids dropped so low…"

She shuddered and clutched her legs even tighter.

"That is when I first learned of the Skin peddlers," she said. "Once they owned me…"

She shook her head.

"Skins soon learn that Gorn prefer fighters. They sometimes like to hunt their meat before a feast. It's only later they discover a Gorn's meat locker is hardly the worst fate a Skin can endure. There are dark things…sick, malicious, twisted things…no being should ever have to face… I swore… I swore that would not be me, that would never be me...!"

Her rocking had intensified as she spoke until Data couldn't help but reach out to her. At first she shrank from his touch, but it wasn't long before the dam broke and she found herself clinging to him like a tiny child, trembling and shuddering as she sobbed into his shoulder.

Data held her close, brushing her hair from her face and feeling a slow, simmering outrage begin to build inside him.

This girl had been tortured and abused, and it had happened on a Federation world…under Starfleet's watch. They had all heard rumors of an active underworld, where slave trafficking and drug peddling fueled terrorist activities along the Federation's borders, yet, somehow, they had shrugged it off. Just one of those things. Someone else's problem. Some other department's responsibility.

And Ishta and Mikey and hundreds, if not thousands, like them had lived all their lives huddled in that dark space between the cracks.

Counselor Troi had once told him that anger could be a positive emotion. Now, for the first time, Data began to understand what she'd meant. Here, before him, a fundamental injustice was at work; the blatant, and ongoing, betrayal of the Federation's highest ideals. What good was his positronic brain if he couldn't find a way to blaze real light on this crime...perhaps even stop it – to shut this operation down, once and for all?

Ishta's sobs began to slow and she gradually pulled away from the android's gentle embrace, shifting to sit beside him with her head resting against his shoulder.

"Don't think this means you know me," she said.

"Ishta," he said, "I barely know myself these days. But, I appreciate your company, just the same."

"Yeah," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the sandy ground. "Me too."

To Be Continued...

References include TNG: Phantasms; Birthright I; Descent I; Where No One Has Gone Before; Datalore; The Next Phase; Legacy; First Contact (movie).