The characters of Star Trek: The Next Generation are the property of Paramount, and the other people they are property of, and they certainly aren't mine. This story is written entirely for amusement and not for profit. No references are intended to any actors portraying these fictional characters or to any other living persons.

My thanks to those readers who have sent me useful suggestions which led me to revise the first four chapters. So if you only read my first version, please start here….


If you thought Lt Comm. Data had an extra spring in his step in the last episode of the first season of ST:TNG, this story is for you.
We begin just before the ST:TNG episode called Conspiracy and we continue after it, before the episode titled The Neutral Zone.

A perfect mate

By lucideye



Chapter 1: Blindfold chess



"Are you absolutely sure you wouldn't like to take that move back, Lt Commander?"



There was a stunned silence in the crowded little recreation room on a lower deck of the Starship Enterprise. All heads swivelled towards the untidily dressed female civilian. The woman herself gave an anxious, green-eyed glance round at the astonished faces, swallowed hard and leant towards the senior Starfleet officer whose back was turned to her.



He was triply inscrutable. Firstly, Zsuza's only view of him was of the back of his close-fitting green and black Starfleet uniform, his smooth black hair and a neck of an unnatural, but not unpleasing white-gold colour. Secondly, he was wearing a blindfold around his eyes; one of Counsellor Troi's extravagantly hued silk scarves in fact, tied in a neat knot at the back of the head. The ends of the scarf trailed incongruously down his back in rainbow-coloured wings. Thirdly, being an android, Lt Commander Data sometimes omitted to use facial expressions altogether if he saw no point in doing so.

 (How does he keep that hair so damned neat!) was the thought that passed across Zsuza's mind as she repeated, "I can let you take that move back, Sir."

"That will not be necessary," the android replied, rather coldly, Zsuza thought. She shrugged, tucked another strand of unruly auburn hair behind her ear and looked down at the chessboard again. Casting her expert eye round the board, once again she could hardly believe her luck.



"Rook to H4," Zsuza called out, moving her piece and trying hard to keep her voice steady. There was a ripple of applause from those few crew members who knew immediately what she had done - and several baffled "Why did she do that?" noises from those who did not, mostly the lads from Security who weren't big on chess.

In the instant Zsuza made her move, she saw the neat, suspiciously shapely shoulders (do androids wear shoulder pads?) actually slump slightly. And she heard, or thought she heard, something she did not expect: from behind the blindfold there came the barely audible, but unmistakeable sound of the android's voice saying: "Ah."

Aloud he said in his usual, bright tone, "Black resigns." Spinning his chair round swiftly to face his opponent, Data whipped the scarf from his eyes - his hair remained as smooth and glossy as ever - and held out his hand to Zsuza for the traditional handshake that always ends a chess game. There was more applause and most of the spectators began to move away as the chess addicts hunched round the board to analyse the endgame.

"There was no way he could get out of that," crowed the noisiest of the ship's "chess nuts", "it was going to be a perfect mate in another six moves. A perfect mate. You didn't see that coming, did you, Commander Data?"

"You're quite a player, Doctor Androva," said the ship's second noisiest chess nut, thudding Zsuza on the back. "Data's the hottest chess computer we have on board."

"The human mind is capable of beating an artificial intelligence at chess more often than one would think," interjected the android evenly. "Whereas the game is essentially one involving strategic and mathematical skill, the greatest chess players have always indicated that they also used a degree of instinct: or perhaps, more accurately, the ability to select and process only the information which will be of use in a given situation. That is a skill I have always coveted, always try to emulate, but never will possess in quite the same way."

There was an awkward quiet, as so often happened when the android mentioned what he seemed to consider to be his own shortcomings. Zsuza looked down at the board and mechanically began analysing back through her game, as she had been drilled to do from the age of five. She was only a guest on the Enterprise, on a mission to search for archaeological material for her university; she had never played chess with an android before, and the pleasure of winning was not as thorough as she had expected it to be.

She had played many computers before and none of them had ever gallantly offered to play blindfold, nor had wrapped the blindfold around their own eyes with such elegance, nor did she know of any computer with such a distractingly well-proportioned rear view as Commander Data's.

And no computer she had ever encountered before could offer a firm yet gentle handshake quite such as the one she had just received from the pale, surprisingly warm hand.

Suddenly the android's closest friend, who had been standing nearby with a glass in his hand, broke into a gust of giggles and put a friendly arm around Zsuza's shoulders.

"You old fraud, Data," spluttered Geordi. "You know darned well that you select information as well as the next guy - as much as I do, in fact. It just never occurred to you that a new kid on the block would be a darned better chess player than you - and half way through that game, why, I declare you just got lazy. You didn't think she was seeing ahead any further than you. Now stop trying to get this young lady to feel all sorry for you, Pinocchio, and go get her a drink. She won fair and square."

 "But it was only a blindfold match," Zsuza said quickly. "An exhibition match rather than proper tournament conditions."

"Honey, the blindfold doesn't make any difference to Data," laughed Geordi. "Why, don't tell me he really did let you think that a little thing like not being able to see the board would handicap him? Sheesh! With his rating? Darn it, Data, you are getting sneaky in your old age."

"I am not programmed for sneakiness, snooping, or covert activity," answered the android in his usual even tone. "And since I was discovered twenty-six years, eight months, three days and thirteen point five hours ago on Omicron Theta, I do not believe that in human terms my age is very advanced."

Zsuza smiled at Geordi and took the glass of champagne that Commander Data had produced from the replicator. The moment he handed over the drink, he tapped his commbadge, spoke to it and turned for the door.

Zsuza slipped through the crowd and caught up with him just before he left the recreation lounge.

"Good game," she said.

"A good game indeed. I have to return to the bridge now," said Data briskly. "I hope we shall be able to play again before long?"

"Oh, yes please," said Zsuza, who never found it possible to refuse a chess game. "But first, sir, could you tell me something?"

The android tilted his head slightly, waiting for her question. Zsuza noticed for the first time how his nose was slightly tipped to one side; and also that he still held the coloured silk scarf in his hands, absent-mindedly running its soft chiffon folds between his long, pale, extraordinarily sensitive fingers. She noticed his expressive eyebrows and quirky, interesting mouth, and thought how clever Data's creator had been, to decide against making him look like a shop window dummy. She imagined running her fingers through the black hair to see if it would flop into his eyes; she wondered what those eyes would look like if they had been a normal colour.

"I played you blindfold," she said, "because you said you would have too much of an advantage without the blindfold. Yet now I realise that the blindfold makes no difference to you at all; I should have known that from the start, in fact I did suspect it. I know real chess players – I may be an amateur still, but I've lived all my life among men and women who can play chess in their heads, and several dozen games at a time. Wasn't it rather - well - to be frank, insulting to offer me the blindfold game?"

Data blinked.

"But I lost the game," he pointed out, reasonably.

"Are you sure you didn't let me win?"

Data's brow creased with concern, one of the few expressions he adopted with ease.

 "Dr Androva, I do not understand your query. I did not at any point in our pre-game conversation say I would have too much of an advantage without the blindfold," he said.

He continued with empty inscrutability: "You asked me to play. I offered you queen odds*. You refused, and then Counsellor Troi suggested the blindfold. She produced this scarf and so we played. I never affirmed that my advantage would be altered by the blindfold, but I theorized that your confidence might be increased if I did not see the board. Dr. Androva, it is clear to me that you are not entirely conversant with my specifications. I am incapable of telling an untruth."

Zsuza felt the blood rush to her face. "I am terribly, terribly sorry, Lieutenant Commander. I really didn't mean to - to offend you."

"You cannot offend my feelings. However, an offence to my Starfleet rank is very possible," he continued evenly. "I hope we shall play chess again soon. With no blindfold? Good. Please return this scarf to Counsellor Troi for me. Thank you."

 With a graceful, formal motion he handed her the scarf, turned on his heels and disappeared swiftly through the swishing doors.

Zsuza stood alone by the door, holding a glass of champagne in one hand, a borrowed silk scarf in the other.

 Was this not a magnificent start to her life on board the Enterprise? The ship's third officer, a unique android with an apparently limitless memory, had just lost a chess game to her and (like most chess playing males Zsuza had encountered) did not seem immensely pleased at the idea; in addition to which she had managed to be impertinent to him.

 These things happen in threes, she thought. Why was it always so hard for a woman like Zsuza to fit in socially?

As she walked back to the board, one of the chess nuts knocked her elbow and her champagne went flying. Ah, there goes number three, thought Zsuza sadly, looking at the champagne soaked silk scarf. Now I have ruined a piece of clothing belonging to the ship's respected and widely liked - and of course incredibly beautiful, blah blah blah - counsellor.

And Lt Commander Data had genuinely lost the game - hadn't he? If he lost on purpose, what good would it do him? One good thing about playing against an emotion-free android must surely be that he would not dream of throwing a game as a ploy to get you into bed – something Zsuza had encountered back home more than once. Or would he?

The counsellor was "in": her dark, liquid eyes immediately became solemn on seeing the tousled civilian female.

"I brought your scarf back."

"Thanks! Er - how did it get wet?"

 "Sorry. I got some champagne spilled on it. I'll get it cleaned if you like -"

"No problem. Who won the game?"

 "I did. At least, I think I did."

"You think you did?" The counsellor took another careful look at Zsuza, beckoned her into the room and motioned her to sit down.

 Zsuza sighed. She had been advised to tell the counsellor anything that was "on her mind" and she recognised the "tell me about it" signals. Obediently, she sat on the couch with the counsellor next to her, all womanly concern and liquid brown eyes.

"How much do you know about chess etiquette?" Zsuza began.

Deanna's smile was bright and humorous. "You've got me there," she shrugged. "Of course I play a little, but I can't say I have hung around watching others play."

 "You probably know that Commander Data has a much higher rating than me - an ELO* rating of roughly 3,000 compared with my 2,747."

"That….sounds very high," Deanna said cautiously.

 "Chess is a sport where human beings just seem to get better and better. Galactic Grandmaster level was set at 3,000 at the turn of the last century.  I am a top-level club player, but my picture isn't up on anyone's wall. And if only I had the chance of meeting bigger opponents, I think I could do very well  - anyway, the difference in rating between me and Commander Data is really not significant. With me, so far?"

 "Yep," said Deanna. Zsuza liked the way she sat next to her on the sofa with her knees together and her hands clasped slightly primly on her lap. The other woman felt cosy and friendly, without getting too close.

"Well," she continued, "then your idea of the blindfold came up and the Lieutenant Commander accepted it. Now I realise that the blindfold made no difference to him at all - he has perfect visual recall. I might as well have been playing a chess computer wrapped in a sock for all the advantage it gave me. Even though I won the game, I have this feeling that I was being - how can I put this? - made fun of.."

 "I can feel your sense of confusion," said the counsellor. "And I'm sorry if I committed a breach of chess etiquette by offering my scarf."

Zsuza snorted as though it was of no consequence and Deanna realised that for the brilliant young academic, the only intercourse which mattered in a chess room was the game. Yet when Deanna had ushered the other woman into her quarters, a flutter of something more intense had briefly wafted from Zsuza into the empath's sensory field.

 "For one thing, you can put the idea that Data was in some way mocking you by playing blindfold right out of your head. I don't think he is capable of making fun of anyone. As for your feelings, I can tell that you feel triumphant but you don't trust your victory."

 "OK, never mind the touchy-feely psychology," Zsuza almost snapped. "Whatever. The point is that I suspect Data of throwing me the game, somehow. I can't put my finger on it. But I think he saw the endgame I had envisioned perfectly well and decided to let me follow through, without taking the defensive action I half-expected him to take - and that's just not on, Counsellor Troi. I won't stand for it.

"I was the junior champion on the whole of Europa 4 for one year and the runner up two years in a row while I was in high school. OK, we are not a heavily populated planet but that still means something: remember that 90 per cent of the chess-playing culture of Earth has been settled on my planet for two hundred years. Our original Earth settlers came from places where chess was once as big a sport as soccer."

 Deanna tried to look fascinated, while wondering what soccer was. Something to do with socks? It seemed more important to Deanna that this planet's culture had produced a young woman who expected to meet trickery, subterfuge and double-dealing as the normal coinage of human relationships, and this made Deanna feel sad.

 "I may be still only an amateur,"  continued Zsuza, "But all through university I played at top club levels. I chose an academic career, as a scientific archaeologist, rather than try for Starfleet Academy because I knew that a Starfleet career would take me away completely from competitive chess; that's how serious I am about chess. If it weren't for my parents hating the idea, I would be a professional. I know I could cut it. I just know I could," she added, as much to herself as to the counsellor.

 "This isn't just about chess, is it?" said the counsellor carefully. "There is something else, isn't there?"

 Zsuza stood up. "Of course it is just about chess," she said quickly. "Chess is not about emotions and stuff, Counsellor. Chess is about winning; sometimes human players use a little psychological pressure on each other, but - an android? Of course, I am going to challenge him to another game. A five game match, blitz, speed or whatever."

 "I suggest you stop saying 'whatever'," said Deanna. "It sounds so hostile."

"Sorry. I'm used to holding my own in the chess cafes and tournaments on Europa 4. I'm not used to Starfleet manners. Back in New Vienna, we have a form of saying goodbye, you know, which roughly translates as 'please do not speak ill of me behind my back'. That should tell you something about us."

 Zsuza turned to go, then frowned. "By the way, is it OK for me to call Lieutenant Commander Data by his first name, if I am playing chess with him?"

 "I don't see why not."

 "So what is it?"

"What's what?"

 "His first name."

 "Good heavens, I have no idea. Actually, I don't think he really has one."

 "You mean whoever made him only gave him one name? Seems a bit mean. It's kind of like being a doll, or a toy. Or a pet. Sindy. Barbie. Spot. Data."

 Deanna's face clouded and Zsuza's heart sank - she had put her foot in it again.

 "I think having only one name is the least of his problems, Zsuza. Our Data is a fascinating person. And - he is a person, you know. But it takes a little time to get used to him, as we understand that he cannot feel any emotions, not….." - Deanna chose her words carefully - "not what we would call emotions. I never feel anything from him."

 "You're a Betazoid, aren't you? You can feel other people's emotions," said Zsuza.

 "Half-Betazoid. When I am on the bridge I feel waves of emotion coming from everyone around me. I feel the Captain's impatience and the way he argues with himself inside. I feel Commander Riker's ambition sometimes just bouncing off the walls. I feel Geordi's warmth and optimism, Worf's struggle with his private anger and his sense of honour….it's something I am used to, feeling these waves of emotion rippling around me all the time.

 "You know how Geordi sees with his VISOR? For him, the scene on the bridge is a kaleidoscope of electromagnetic fields. In fact, for him, Data always has a special aura which the rest of us are not aware of - I only found that out quite recently. Well, for me, when I walk into a room I feel feelings washing around me like currents of water. That's part of how I "see" a room of people.

 "But from Data I feel nothing. When I first walked onto the bridge of the Enterprise it felt like looking at a group portrait - but one with a big hole in it, a person-shaped hole, where someone had been cut out. If I am not actually looking at him with my eyes, I have to remind myself all the time that he is there with us."

 Deanna paused.

 "There was one time when I did feel something coming from him - it was after we had a peculiar virus on board."

 Zsuza remembered her briefing. "You mean the Tsiolkovsky virus?" Before she could stop herself, she began to giggle.

 "That's it. Yeah, I can imagine the stories that went around about that little adventure. It was all pretty embarrassing, and it probably sounds funny now, but actually it was very, very dangerous and we nearly were all killed. Anyway, just after we came out of that danger, we were all on the bridge and for the first time - and the last time, actually - I felt something coming from Data. It was so faint that I would not have noticed it but for the circumstances."

 Deanna broke off, realising she had said far too much to a relative stranger.

 "Sure you don't want me to get the scarf cleaned?" said Zsuza, who had rather lost interest in Deanna's reminiscences.

 "Oh that! Look, I've got loads of them - would you like it?" Deanna laughed.

 "Thank you, it's beautiful - I couldn't possibly..."

 "It's a present. A souvenir of your first week with us. Think of it as your first Enterprise chess trophy."

 As the young academic, now smiling again, left her room, Deanna thought again about that strange day. The effects of the Tsiolkovsky virus had been more powerful than she had realised: Her own memories were dominated by the delicious sensation of being swept up in Wil Riker's arms and carried all the way to sickbay like a child. What she could recall of the immediate aftermath of the outbreak was relatively hazy, which must indicate that the virus left some kind of after-effect.

 Someone - which of them was it? - had marched onto the bridge, walked up to Data and said something quite extraordinary - what was it? Deanna remembered the waves of tense emotion wafting by her - and it was then she felt that something, a different emotion, very faint but still an emotion, coming from a new source. Coming from a place that had never been a source of emotion before. Coming from Data.

 The feeling had been so faint that she would hardly have noticed it if it had come from anyone else; but to feel it coming from Data was as unexpected to Deanna as it would be for you or me to hear the microwave oven bid us good morning, so the empath noticed it. But could not identify it.

 Not for the first time, Deanna cursed herself for lacking the full Betazoid spectrum of telepathic abilities. She struggled to focus on that feeling and to put a name to it. Had it been merely mild confusion, surprise? A faint yearning….or was it  - pain?

(end of chapter one)


* Queen odds: when a player of superior strength plays without a queen to give a novice a better chance

§* ELO rating is the standard method of measuring chess playing strength.