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 8 Truth and White Lies"…then, as soon as I was certain from her appearance, being one of complete immobility, that her programming had suffered a fatal exception and had automatically shut down, I simply…turned her upside down, removed the obstructing item of clothing and – performed the necessary disabling routine. With my right middle finger," Data added, noticing the expectant expressions around the conference table. "I may be only an android, but I am not a necrophiliac."
He gave a donnish, wintry little smile, hoping against hope that he might at last have made a joke. Nobody laughed.
"Nicely done, Mr Data," purred Captain Picard. "I really don't know what we would do without you."
"You literally bored her to death," said Riker in awe. "This has to be some kind of record in the history of dating."
"It is true that a female student at Starfleet Academy once accused me of having that ability," concurred Data. "At the time I thought it was only a figure of speech. I see now I have proved myself wrong."
He looked around hopefully, wondering again if he might have made a joke. Again, nobody laughed.
"So!" Picard wanted to move on. "Now that the thing is under lock and key in a secure laboratory, all that remains is for Dr Androva here to assist us in dismantling the thing thoroughly and – please – quickly. Then it can be shipped out to – well, any suggestions?"
"The nearest Ferengi trading post? As a goodwill gift?"
"Number One. I am surprised at you. That was a frivolous suggestion."
A smile played around the Captain's lips.
"Delightful idea, though…."
"Dr Androva's university surely would appreciate it as an addition to their museum," suggested Data.
"Yes please!" said Zsuza, glad to be acknowledged as part of the conference. "And I need an excuse to get back home at the end of next month."
Data looked at her curiously.
"Perhaps we can move onto the next problem, Captain," said Counsellor Troi, "which is the psychological effect of this incident on the crew. I have a very full schedule of counselling ahead of me. I may need to request some peripatetic counsellors to come on board to back me up."
"Thank you, Counsellor, I was just coming to that, and of course you must have all the help you need – which reminds me, where is Lieutenant Worf?"
"I have ordered him to lie down in his quarters," said Dr Crusher. "He's very…upset."
Picard frowned.
"It wasn't his fault. I hope he realises that?"
"You know Worf," said Deanna sadly. "All the counselling in the world would not wipe away the fact that he was the only male on the bridge, possibly on the ship, who actually passed out at the thought of Fanny's – er – tactics. And as he has so recently taken over as chief of security – well, emotionally it is little short of a disaster, sir."
"Incidentally," said Dr Crusher, "I'd be grateful if the exact nature of Fanny's weaponry, as you put it, was kept a closely guarded secret from my son. I know you all think I'm over-protective but I do want him to have a healthy, happy relationship with a nice girl…. one day. Really, I do."
Picard raised his eyebrows and glanced round the table to a murmur of immediate acquiescence.
Then he frowned in thought, tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair and looked out of the window.
"Worf was the only one, eh? I think we have our answer to our dear Security Chief's little problem staring us in the face."
………………………………………………………………………
"Why are you so interested in returning home quickly?" asked Data as he and Zsuza unlocked the secure laboratory in which Fanny was incarcerated.
Zsuza had had just enough time to shower, change her clothes and grab a bite to eat before joining the tireless android in the task of dismantling Fanny according to proper archaeological methods. She was not planning to let anyone else near Fanny this time and if the thing was to end up in her own university's museum, she wanted to be in charge from now on.
"Oh, didn't I say? I've had a very, very exciting communication from home, Data. It came through while we were chasing Fanny, apparently. I've been asked to play on board 3 for my planet in the Delta Quadrant Chess Olympics!"
"That will be an honour," said Data. "And a pleasure for you," he added as an afterthought.
"If I do well, Data, I may give up my academic career and do what I've always wanted – become a full time professional chess player. My parents will be furious, of course, They think I'll lead a rackety life, living out of a suitcase and being pawed by sweaty, cigar-chomping impresarios…."
Zsuza broke off to look at Data. He was standing in the middle of the lab, staring at Fanny. The exquisite creature was lying inert on the workbench, secured by cruel-looking black straps binding her round her slender waist, swan-like neck and impossibly delicate thighs.
"She is beautiful, isn't she?" said Zsuza, following his gaze.
"Yes," he answered shortly. "Tell me about your chess tournament."
"It's my dream come true, Data. This is the tournament that could get me into the big time – into galactic chess. This is the big one. Oh, Data, I can't wait to get training!"
They set to work taking Fanny apart. It was a long, finicky job. Every tiny component of Fanny's had to be numbered and logged on computer generated diagrams. In other words it was the kind of work Zsuza enjoyed; it was also the kind of work which Data found highly appropriate to his many talents, requiring not only mental acuity and painstaking attention to detail but physical strength and dexterity, too.
"I think we shall find that she is programmed to submit to the desires of the man she belongs to until she has him where she wants him," theorised Zsuza as they began opening up Fanny's chest cavity ("90DD*?" volunteered Data, the bosom expert), "What baffles me is that you were able to lie to her."
"I do not know what you mean," said Data blankly.
He reached his hand behind Fanny's back and gently released the tiny gilt catch which fastened her absurd little lace bra from its moorings. Slowly, carefully (in accordance with proper archaeological procedure) he drew the filmy lace fragment away from her aggressively pert breasts (now beginning to sag a little due east and west) and reverently laid it to one side.
"Data, you know what I mean. In the Crushers' quarters! You told her your dearest wish was to teach her to play chess. But if you don't mind me saying, from where I was sitting it looked as though your dearest wish was far removed from playing chess with her. And I thought you were incapable of telling an untruth."
There was a pause as Data carefully detached an optic fibre cable from inside Fanny's rib cage and laid it on the second work bench, where Zsuza was making image recordings of every detail. As he lifted it into the air, it sparkled under the lab lights, and he watched its bright inner surfaces glitter for a moment before he spoke.
"It was indeed my dearest wish to teach her chess. But your intuition has told you correctly that my wishes towards Fanny were…more complex than that."
"I'm sorry – I don't…"
"Zsuza, I still harboured a hope that Fanny might be re-programmable so as to become a true partner for me – not only a sexual partner, but a companion, too."
"She would have needed a certain amount of - of emergency dental work," put in Zsuza. They both glanced towards the lower half of Fanny's body, where the vicious vagina still lay hidden in its veil of lace, soft pubic hair and simulated flesh.
Data looked at Fanny's inert face. The blue eyes were wide open, gazing peacefully up at the ceiling. The golden hair lay like a tangled cloud around her head.
"I would have worked on her myself, making all the physical changes necessary to render her fit for human society. But I also knew that for that – my dearest wish - to happen," he continued, absent-mindedly stroking the blonde hair, "she would need to be equipped with an ability to learn complex processes.
"In other words, I knew that if she could learn to play chess, I could have one day turned her into a perfect mate for me. Or as near perfect as I could ever hope to find."
He ran his fingers through the hair, combing out the tangles and smoothing each lock as he spoke. Something in his voice made Zsuza pause and look up from her work.
"But," he continued very quietly, "I also knew that if she turned out to be too primitive to handle the task of learning chess, then it was likely that the effort would overload her circuitry – something that could never happen to me – and possibly even wipe it for ever."
"You knew it might save her – or kill her," whispered Zsuza.
"And if you thought I felt desire for her, Zsuza, then you are right. At that moment when she kissed me I felt a profound need to possess her, to form her, to recreate her in a less savage form. I felt in myself a requirement for procreation that went above and beyond, I think, the human mating instinct.
"For she was not only my mate but potentially my protégé, my child, the apple of my eye, or whatever expression you prefer to signify a beloved offspring or offspring-substitute."
"You are not only Pinocchio; you wanted to be Pygmalion, too," said Zsuza gently, more to herself than to Data.
"But," she continued less gently, "Fanny was too dumb to cope with you."
"You could express it like that." The humanity had drained from his voice; was it simple androidishness, or was it a deliberate withdrawal of intimacy at the bluntness of Zsuza's words?
As gently as if she had been a living – or recently living – woman, Data reached out his fingers and closed Fanny's eyes so that the sooty lashes lay on the peachy cheeks in an expression of perfect peace.
Zsuza, unable to think of anything to say, turned back to her workbench where she was cataloguing Fanny's parts. A few minutes later, Data's commbadge – just sent in from the ship's stores – gave its little chirrup.
Zsuza looked around to see Data suddenly straightening up, as though he had been bending over Fanny; he might have been examining her facial construction more closely.
Or he might have been kissing the automaton's lifeless lips. Zsuza would never know.
People always talk about his lack of emotions, she thought. They never talk about his extraordinary capacity for compassion. If only the Wizard of Oz could give him a bran-new heart…he might discover that he has been human all this time.
The Captain's voice.
"Data. Dr Androva is with you?"
"Of course, Captain."
"Excellent. I want you both to listen carefully. I have a little…plan that may make life easier for a dear friend of ours."
…………………………………………………………………
Worf still looked doubtful. "Are you certain that the artificial life form's remote disabling force field failed to incapacitate anyone else on board, Captain?"
"Absolutely not, Lieutenant. As I said, Mr Data and Dr Androva, who have just discovered the device hidden deep inside the creature, have informed me that it is basically a remarkable hormone-tracking device - but can be used only once."
"?"
"Yes. Mr Data theorises that it is no more than a prototype. We can be confident that its design was never used, or considered inefficient, since no records exist of it ever being developed."
Worf looked interested.
Picard continued, "Apparently the 'Fanny' mechanism was able, thanks to this – er, as I said, remarkable - device, to seek out the location of the highest concentration of testosterone on the ship, lock in on a hormonal signal and disable its source. Unfortunately, it seems to have homed in on you. From your point of view it must have been like being hit by an interplanetary missile. Fascinating, don't you think?"
Worf thought about this for a bit.
"What would be the purpose of this device, Captain?" he asked doubtfully.
"Again, Data and Dr Androva have come up with a convincing theory. They suggest that Fanny's manufacturers were aware that an exceptionally warrior-like and courageous male would not find Fanny a threat, and would have no difficulty in overpowering her. Criminal masterminds always used to keep a large, strong bodyguard close by, you see.
"Therefore, in order to ensure that the 'Fanny' mechanism could carry out its horrific task, it would be necessary to avoid encountering such a warrior-like individual until the weapon had been deployed against its target."
Worf looked appalled.
"An evil apparatus, Captain. A selective disabling field of this nature should be brought to the attention of Starfleet Command, in my opinion."
"Um…don't worry, Worf, old chap. Leave it to Dr Androva to make sure the thing is thoroughly investigated."
Worf's shoulders, which had been sagging noticeably for most of the day, returned to their usual ramrod straightness and he went back to his station. A few minutes later, however, he turned back to the Captain.
"A query, Captain. Do you think it possible that an artificial life form such as – er – Fanny could be made to resemble a – a Klingon female?"
"Certainly not, Worf. The idea is unthinkable."
"But, with respect, Sir…."
"Worf, Klingons are honourable beings, are they not?"
"Indeed they are, Sir!" responded Worf warmly.
"Well, can you imagine any Klingon trying to pull such a vile trick on another Klingon?"
"I cannot imagine such a dishonourable act, Sir!"
"There you are, then. Now put the matter right out of your head."
Worf looked profoundly relieved and went back to work with something close to a spring in his step.
I wish I could feel half as comfortable myself, thought Picard.
Deanna was going to need those back-up counsellors over the next few weeks. He hoped at least one or two of them would turn out to be good-looking.
(End of chapter 8)
* Centimetres, remember.