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 10 Going Boldly"I could probably have used my penis to deactivate her immediately, since it is sturdier than a human male's, " Data confided to Zsuza as they sat back on the couch in Data's quarters, listening to one of Beethoven's late quartets.
Waking up in Data's quarters had been awful. It was lovely to find Data leaning over her and gently combing out the tangles in her hair with his fingers, but otherwise it was like waking up in a furniture store. Everything was for show. There was no toilet paper, not even anything to blow your nose on, and nothing to drink a glass of water from. Even the replicator did not work properly because Data, not yet a cat owner, hardly ever used it.
Zsuza had dispatched Data down to her quarters to fetch a change of clothing and her morning necessaries. Of course, he came back minutes later bearing half her entire wardrobe in his arms, since he had been uncertain as to what she would want to wear; and he had left behind the most essential item, her face cream, because it had been sitting on the bathroom counter and was not in the sponge bag.
So it was only after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, and only after Data had gallantly insisted on completely dismantling and reassembling the control panel of the replicator to get it working again – he flatly refused to allow Zsuza to pop down the corridor and beg a cup of coffee from a neighbour on the grounds that it was "unseemly" - that Zsuza at last felt she could face some breakfast with her new lover.
"But, as I implied in my briefing to the Captain, I was aware that there were certain – delicate - questions of taste arising from that solution," continued Data, "so I decided to use my fingers. They are, after all, slightly more dexterous."
Zsuza gulped and narrowly missed spilling her coffee. "Only slightly more? You mean your – you mean you can - "
"Oh, yes, it is quite manoeuvrable. With three speeds. The program I utilised last night is a basic introductory routine. Oh, and there is also a vibrate option. I have been told that it 'tickles', whatever that means."
There was a stunned pause while Zsuza mulled over the implications of this information. It certainly explained some things about last night.
"Data," she began slowly, snuggling up beside him on the couch, "do you have any leave owing?"
"Since I take very few holidays, and since the Captain is rarely willing to let me leave the ship except as part of an away team, I have twenty-one months and 24 days leave owing, Zsuza. Why do you wish to know?"
"Well, with this tournament coming up in a month's time I feel I need a good rest somewhere with pleasant countryside, fresh air and a king-size bed - somewhere I can get into training…and I wonder if you could join me – as my coach?"
His guileless, golden eyes widened, his head gave a bird-like tilt. "If the Captain can release me, playing chess with you for an entire month would be most intriguing, Zsuza."
"You might even catch a tan," Zsuza giggled.
A blank look. Never mind, she thought.
"Seriously, Data, I really think he owes you a month's leave. That Captain of yours might appreciate you a bit more if you took your holidays, you know."
"Appreciate me?" The quizzical look, his head tilted to one side.
"And, Data, you don't really need to work double shifts ALL the time. Take time off now and again to socialise. Get about a bit. You're worth it. But – but Data, don't tell the other men on the Enterprise about your three speeds and your vibrate option. They could get very jealous."
Data looked even more thoughtful than ever.
"Perhaps we could take some of your collection of 'books' with us," he suggested. "For when we are not playing chess."
"Great idea."
"And I warn you that you may well lose every game you play. I have been developing some interesting sub-routines to counter your particular playing style. I shall not be throwing games any more."
"That's what I'm counting on, Data. And I know a dear little green planet we can go to. It's not too far from here…."
She snuggled against his shoulder hopefully, but Data still seemed to be worrying over something.
"Zsuza," he said quietly, "I have made a very foolish mistake."
"What do you mean, Data?"
"For a moment, I thought that you wanted to go on vacation with me at least partly because my sexuality program was – was pleasing to you, but you have not mentioned it at all since last night. Indeed, as soon as I completed it, you went to sleep. I feel you are making it very clear, using the fascinating human trait called 'tact', that you want my company solely as a chess coach but not for recreational sexual activity.
"And now you advance the proposition that aspects of my sexuality program might make men jealous of me, an emotion I cannot understand, but know to be dangerous, particularly for a person with an 'off' switch.
"In your opinion, Zsuza, should I just delete this sexuality program altogether? If an interesting, intelligent and aesthetically appropriate woman such as yourself is not interested in obtaining pleasure from it, I cannot see any reason to keep it."
She put down her coffee cup and stood up. For a moment she considered Data, sitting before her on the couch staring disconsolately at nothing, and marvelled that even android males should so obviously need constant reassurance that they are hot as hell in the sack. If that did not prove, once and for all, that Data was essentially a man, she did not know what would.
She hiked up her skirt as far as her stocking tops, planted one knee on either side of his thighs so as to straddle his lap, and took the android's sweet, sad-clown face between her two hands.
"Data," she said. "I am only going to say this once."
His eyes darted away, and downwards. He had heard those words before.
"If - you - delete the tiniest, - most infinitesimal - byte of - that program, my darling," she whispered, kissing his face at each word, and paying particular attention to his nose, "I swear I shall never, never play chess with you again. You're perfect the way you are. Just perfect."
Just for a change, he said nothing, but continued to look dolefully up at her. Was there the faintest hint, deep in those golden eyes, of a twinkle? Zsuza suddenly remembered Geordi's words when Data had lost to her at blindfold chess.
"Data," she said with mock sternness, "You wouldn't be trying to get a girl to feel all sorry for you in the hope of a quick legover, would you, now?"
The sad, blank look again. But this time the twinkle behind it was definitely there…and went as far as the pale lips, which twisted into a slight, questioning smile.
And as she put a stop to the android's inscrutable smile with the longest, deepest, most sensual snog of her life, Zsuza reflected that this was going to be one hell of a chess vacation.
……………………
EpilogueThe author acknowledges the use of some dialogue from the ST:TNG episode "The Neutral Zone".
"Good to see you back, Mr Data," grinned Riker as Data bustled onto the bridge. "It's been a long month without you, especially since the Captain went off to this emergency conference. As you can see, we are basically hanging around here waiting for him to come back."
The ship's second officer flitted about at the science station, deftly surveying and recording the sensor readings. No one on board had quite the same rapport with the ship's computer as he did; no one was quite as fast at analysing the mass of information which continually flooded from it.
In fact, he realised, he was probably as good at picking out which information was necessary as anyone else. Just because he also had the ability to remember all the rest of the facts to which he was exposed did not mean he was any less good at his job as the next officer.
His ever-alert eye was caught by a flashing message on the science station console: "Lt Comm. Data Personal Communication…sender, Z.B. Androva, DSc, FEISTA*[1]". Out of Worf's line of vision, Data switched it to written format, planning to take a look at the video format later on in private.
"Hi, just a quick note to say I won my first game! Yesss! Am playing board 3 may move up to 2. Everything great, atmosphere amazing, 2 top Delta Quadrant teams have put out recruitment feelers, yippee. Been interviewed by the Chess Channel! Stardom! Coach is good teacher but I've known better tee hee. Will send u games later and don't forget promise correspondence chess. Xxxxx Z."
The vacation had been a complete success. Apart from that one difficult day near the end when Zsuza lost her temper with him, allegedly because of his repeated attempts to go into the toilet with her ("But, Zsuza, this is the one human function which is completely hidden from me. I need to observe it to complete my development. Surely, now we are so intimate - " "Data, GO AWAY."), everything had proceeded according to plan.
He reflected that her irrational behaviour on that particular occasion was probably connected with her anxiety about the tournament, perhaps also with her hormonal cycle, he added sagely, mentally congratulating himself on his sensitivity to women's problems.
He had, perhaps, been slightly hasty in accusing her, through the keyhole of the bathroom door, of deliberately stunting his personal growth.
(He had to raise his voice, naturally, to ensure she heard him above the sound of running taps, and had certainly not been "yelling at her through the door", an absurd assertion of Zsuza's which proved her temporary imbalance of mind).
But once she emerged, red-eyed and blotchy-faced, from the bathroom, the reconciliatory sexual subroutine Data had devised for her while sitting for two hours outside the door proved extremely successful, not to mention the chess game afterwards. The hotel had been very understanding about the broken ceramics.
It was a little regrettable, also, that it was – apparently - not appropriate human social behaviour to describe interesting sexual experiments to one's male co-workers. At least, so Zsuza had insisted. ("But Commander Riker says…" "Never mind what he says, Data. You just carry on doing what you're good at, my sweet, and keep pretending 'It Never Happened'; I reckon you could keep every woman on the Enterprise very happy. Just never, never let the men find out. EVER.")
As he checked the ship's sensors, Data reflected that he had well and truly got the hang of sex. By the second day of the vacation, he had realised that as long as you remembered to make each session a bit different from the last, and provided you observed certain basic rules of engagement, sex was a straightforward and even fairly interesting activity. He still could not quite see why human males got so anxious about it.
But to be honest, he found playing chess with Zsuza considerably more rewarding than sex. So to avoid becoming bored of sex – Zsuza was intelligent enough to notice at once if he performed in a manner at all "robotic" - he invented a new game for himself.
Half way through the third day of the holiday, Data had developed a habit of playing chess with Zsuza in his head while making love to her. A crucial factor of the game was that in these mental chess bouts, Zsuza, and no one else, should always be his opponent– if he imagined playing any other opponent, he suspected that he would be guilty of a subtle form of infidelity.
This limitation meant that his mental chess game had to remain within the parameters of her particular playing style. As an additional challenge, he tested his own ingenuity by varying his sexual routine to correspond with the chess game going on inside his head.
In short, he had developed a system whereby he was preparing the strategic issues to be raised in Zsuza's next chess coaching session, while at the same time bringing her to a moaning, sobbing, melting climax, by utilising parallel functions of the same cerebral process. He was fucking her with a game of chess.
The cybernetic elegance of Data's new private game were highly gratifying to him. He found great satisfaction in the mathematical dexterity required to time things so that an orgasm rippled and quivered through Zsuza's delighted body at the exact moment when, in his mind, he was knocking over her king.
Moreover, Zsuza, declaring herself "royally fucked", invariably slept "like a log" afterwards, giving him plenty of time to explore the local sights at his own pace.
Yes, on the whole, the vacation had been an outstanding mission.
So when an ancient, decaying space vessel was spotted in the ship's vicinity, and Commander Riker dismissed the idea of investigating it on the grounds that it was no more than "space debris", Data felt emboldened to speak up.
"Commander," he said, choosing a far less deferential tone that that he might have used to the Captain, "request permission to investigate this vehicle."
"Why, Data? It's derelict," said Riker.
Data drew himself up.
"It is a piece of history," he said, rather commandingly, he thought. "The opportunity to examine such an ancient vehicle does not come around very often. And as you pointed out, we do have the time."
Riker was about to remind Data of what had happened the last time space junk had been beamed aboard, but quickly remembered that part of the trouble had been caused by his own rather indecent haste to uncover Fanny's charms, so thought better of it. "Very well," he said, "But be prepared to beam back before the Captain returns."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Lieutenant Worf, you go with him."
Worf looked more than pleased to be allowed off his leash for the morning.
On exiting the turbo-lift, the two officers ran straight into the ship's counsellor.
"Good morning, Counsellor Troi," chirped Data as they passed.
"Nice to see you back," Deanna replied, then caught her breath.
There it was again!
Gone almost in the instant it arrived, melting away like the scent of a rose on the breeze, that fleeting moment of emotion coming from an unaccustomed source. And once again, coming from Data! She was sure of it now.
The feeling faded so quickly, she only just caught it: a separate whiff of emotion quite distinct from Worf's usual stifled aggression. Even as she exchanged pleasantries with Data and Worf, the feeling vanished. But while it had been present, it was stronger, clearer and very, very different from the feeling she had sensed from Data that other day, long ago, when poor Tasha was alive.
This feeling told her that here was someone who valued himself, who felt proud of his abilities and achievements and knew himself to be worthy of respect, even – though he did not know the meaning of it yet - of love.
Deanna smiled broadly as she put a name to the feeling. She shrewdly suspected that Data was quite unaware of it, but the Betazoid had no trouble in recognising it.
It was happiness.
The end[1] Fellow of the Europa4 Institute of Scientific And Technological Archaeology