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. If you have stuck with me this far, thank you..
Chapter 4: Where's Fanny?Dim people are not allowed in Starfleet. The exams are so tough that even Wesley Crusher failed them first time. But examinations which are intended by their devisers to test for intellectual ability do not always search out those blessed with the most generous portion of common sense. And that is where Ensign Dwayne George Hucker comes in.
For most men in Starfleet, the sight of an almost totally unclothed blonde lounging in the corridor opposite one's cabin door might arouse at least a little suspicion. But Dwayne, while being an outstanding student of warp drive theory and the proud member of a small group of brilliant young engineers whom Geordi LaForge was grooming for greater things, had started out as the kind of child who can be relied on to stick a knitting needle into a power socket; from then on it had been downhill all the way.
So when he emerged, freshly showered, from his cabin and saw a nearly naked blonde human female with impossibly long legs and impossibly large breasts smiling at him, Dwayne knew exactly what to do. He adopted what he hoped was a devilish grin, ran his fingers through his hair to check its bounce, sauntered across to the woman, rested one hand on the wall beside her head in imitation of something he had seen Commander Riker do, and said, for want of anything more interesting to say, "Hi."
"Hi there," said Fanny. "I want you to fuck me. And hard!"
Dwayne was rather surprised to have had such an instant effect on the female. In fact, he had been meaning to talk round the situation for a few minutes, building up to the issues Fanny had just raised. But beggars can't be choosers, and Dwayne was due to start his duty shift in Engineering in forty-five minutes, so he decided to skip breakfast, and invited her in.
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"And then I think we should bring on our reserve player and end with Schubert's Trout Quintet," Lt Commander Data said in conclusion. "Is that acceptable to everyone?"
"Commander Data, you know how I feel about the Trout. It's an opener; it's lively and happy and everyone knows it. Why don't we wind up with one of Beethoven's late quartets?" suggested the viola, a neat brunette.
"Yeah, like that will put everyone in a good mood. And you always want to start with the Trout. It's sooo predictable," snapped the cello, a permanently sarcastic half-Vulcan mother of two.
"Nothing you play is predictable, Ensign Kirsten M'Kok," retorted the second violin, a tall young black woman in a Science officer uniform. "Since I know for a fact that you haven't practised for days, we are all on tenterhooks at every note, believe me."
The meeting was turning ugly, and normally Data would have sat back and let the three women of his string quartet snarl at each other, since there were few spectacles he found so fascinating and incomprehensible as the disagreements of human females.
But today he was in a hurry. Up in the lab there was an activated female android of very unusual specifications waiting for him, under the expert care of the best chess player Data had ever met. If he had known what "a pig in clover" meant, he would have applied the expression to himself with alacrity.
Data clapped his hands. "Starfleet officers, and dedicated musicians," he said sternly, "do not bicker. As the lead violin and ship's Second Officer, I reserve the right to have the final say on the programme. We finish with Schubert and start with Mozart, as usual. Is that clear?"
The three junior officers looked at him meekly and nodded.
"Good. I calculate that your normal duties and requirements for sleep, eating, and personal hygiene will leave an average of four hours and thirty eight minutes available practice time between now and the Captain's party tomorrow. I expect you to make full use of that time. Meeting dismissed."
"Isn't he lovely when he's angry?" the viola said in a stage whisper as he walked out.
"At least he's allowed us toilet breaks," said the second violin.
The door swished shut behind the android's back just in time to render inaudible an explosion of schoolgirl giggles.
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The lab was locked. Probably Zsuza had locked it, in response to the human taboo concerning public nakedness, thought Data. And if that were the case, it proved that the "robot", as Zsuza persisted in describing the lovely Fanny, was in her eyes more than an automaton. Quod erat demonstrandum. Ha!
Tapping his commbadge, Data was about to expound this nice piece of logic eloquently to Zsuza via the room's commpad, but was greeted by a fuzzy silence.
"Zsuza?"
Silence.
"Dr Androva, are you there?"
Silence.
Data looked again at the door. It had not been locked, but jammed from the outside by some device that looked remarkably like a woman's toe-ring.
Sensing an emergency, Data forced the door control open with his fingernails and tapped in the override code. The door creaked open.
His visual receptors took in the scene of devastation inside the lab. Workbenches had been overthrown, tools lay scattered everywhere as though someone had been searching for something. The box in which Fanny had arrived had been smashed to pieces. A life form which could wreak this much damage with its bare hands would have to be at least as strong as Data himself.
And in the middle of the chaos, face down and horribly still with her skirt all askew, lay the small, very vulnerable-looking body of Dr Androva.
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Worf had just been thinking what a quiet morning it was turning out to be when he heard the annoyingly even-tempered voice of his android superior resounding through the bridge.
"Data to Bridge. Security Alert. Medical assistance needed urgently in Lab 21."
"What's the problem, Mr Data?"
The captain stood up with a cup of Earl Grey in his hand.
"Dr Androva is seriously injured, Sir. She has received a severe blow to the head and is concussed. I suspect that the newly discovered android – robot – is responsible. It must be on the loose in the ship. Captain, this is a dangerous situation and I recommend a full security alert."
Picard sprang into action, barking orders to various parts of the ship.
"The ship's sensors should identify the robot's location soon enough," he said to Riker.
"Description of intruder, Sir?" asked Worf.
"Right. Well. Humanoid. About 175 cm tall. Long fair hair, light tan skin, blue eyes. Oh, and she's – it's wearing a sort of lacy ribbon around her, you know..." the captain waved a hand in the direction of his chest, "and a sort of thong thing. Lace. Lilac."
There was a low wolf-whistle from the ensign manning the conn post.
"Shut up, McManus," snarled Picard.
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Zsuza opened her eyes to find herself encircled by two strong arms. One slender, white-gold hand was gently stroking her face and a red-headed whirlwind was flying in through the door in a blue doctor's coat.
"She is regaining consciousness now, Dr Crusher."
Zsuza sat up.
"I want you in sickbay," began the doctor.
"No! There isn't time – oof…" Zsuza clutched her head. She felt horribly dizzy and the back of her head hurt.
"Data, that robot is incredibly dangerous. I've realised what she is now."
She told him and Dr Crusher about the teeth.
"What I want to know is, why were you examining this thing on your own, without a Starfleet officer on hand?" asked Dr Crusher severely, running her scanning instruments over Zsuza's body.
"I'm sorry, Dr Crusher, but everyone seems to have been in a hurry to see what this robot could do, ever since Wesley brought her on board and she spoke to him."
"WESLEY????" the doctor shrieked. "You mean this is Wesley's 'archaeological project' we're talking about? And it spoke to him?"
"That is correct, Doctor," explained Data, helpfully. "She spoke to your son. The precise words were, 'Hi, I am Fanny. I SO BADLY want you to – why, Dr Androva, I fear you may be suffering some neural damage. Your right foot seems to be spasming. You have just kicked me in the shin."
A terrible thought had occurred to Zsuza which cleared her head with savage briskness.
"Doctor Crusher, on no account should that creature be allowed near your son. Or near any man. But especially not your son."
"Zsuza, the Captain has already put out a major security alert," said Data soothingly.
"Please go and find your son now, Doctor," said Zsuza. "I'm fine. I'll explain later."
"I'll give that man his 'little extracurricular project'," muttered Dr Crusher as, white as a sheet, she fled the room.
Data helped Zsuza to her feet.
"I couldn't find any reference to Fanny in any of my university's animatronics records," she explained. "And now I think I know why."
At the computer desk, she quickly opened up the research files she had been working on.
"I couldn't find Fanny, because that is not her name. But if I search for this…"
Data looked over her shoulder.
"Vagina Dentata…" he read.
"An illegal animatronic model developed in the early twenty-second century by criminal organisations in the prostitution and protection business. Little is known about this model as no extant examples exist, but it is thought to have been intended as a way of punishing late debtors……"
His voice trailed away as they both read on, and they exchanged glances.
"This has to go straight to the Captain," said Data.
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"Vagina Dentata is programmed to offer pleasure to men," Zsuza was explaining to the Captain, once on the bridge. She was still feeling groggy and was glad of Data's arm round her waist.
"She refuses commands from women; her programming is intended to lull a man into thinking she is entirely at his mercy. Then, as soon as she has got him in flagrante delicto, her attack mechanism comes into play and these two sets of razor sharp teeth close rapidly in on his….."
"Yes, thank you, Dr Androva, I think we get the picture," said the Captain hastily. "The question is, why aren't our sensors picking up any signals from the robot? It should be easy to find its location."
"Theory," said Data. "Fanny's – Vagina Dentata's, I should say - antiquated technology is out of the range familiar to our security sensors. We have no option but to hunt her down physically, Captain."
Suddenly the bridge communications channel squawked. "Someone help, please!" came a man's anguished voice. "We need a doctor – Deck thirteen - please!" In the background could be heard another man's voice, screaming horribly.
There was a thud behind the Captain's chair.
Lieutenant Worf had fainted.