Stirred

Continuity Note: This chapter takes place between "A Fistful of Datas" and "Quality of Life," and the events depicted within are unrelated to canon.

Time Conversion Note: Dates and times are rendered in closest matching Terran times throughout the chapter, even though Hamal IV has its own calendar and clock. This is simply to make it easier for readers to follow the timeline.

Stardate 46284.91

(Monday, 14 April 2369, 23:48 hours ship's time)

Aboard the S/V Varuna

The ocean was flat and still and shone like glass in the light of the full moon. The breeze that caused water to lap at the sides of my sailboat was barely perceptible. The sound of the water against the wooden hull was softer than a kiss from a newborn baby… or a puppy… the latter of which I had more experience with.

I'd set the anchor checking twice to make sure it had caught. The water here was deeper than most sailors expected, even though shore wasn't more than a hundred meters or so away. I'd read about more than one vessel drifting out into the shipping lanes because a tired captain hadn't actually hit the bottom with their anchor.

As it was, I'd laid out almost all my anchor chain.

Good thing the sea was calm.

I could see the glow of light from around the companionway hatch, and see it reflected in the water close to the ship. Lying on my back on the deck, I could also see the steady glow of the mast-light, a tiny glimmer against the starry sky. If I sat up, I'd see the lights of the harbor to port, and the vast ocean to starboard.

Usually, I spent time aboard my little wooden boat when I wanted to challenge my sailing skills or feel the adrenaline rush of a high-risk sport. But this visit to the Varuna had been prompted by the utter failure of swimming or boxing to help quiet my nerves or allow me to purge some of my frustration.

Somehow, lying under the open sky, smelling the salt air, feeling the deck rocking ever so slightly beneath me, I felt calm. Maybe my parents were right, and I really was half-mermaid. Maybe I should have let Q give me gills and fins after all. Not forever… but an hour or two of being able to free dive without having to worry about coming up for air seemed just the thing.

I felt, more than heard, the bump of something against the port hull, but before I could get up, a familiar voice called out, "Ahoy, Varuna. May I come aboard?"

I scrambled to my feet, grateful that I was wearing jeans and a tank top and not a bikini. "Captain Picard?" I moved toward the place his voice had come from. "Did I usurp your holodeck time, sir?" I threw him a line and watched as he pulled his boat – a catamaran – against mine, and then hoisted himself onto Varuna's deck.

"Not at all, Zoe."

"It's not boxing night." I made it a statement. I knew it wasn't boxing night, because we boxed during the senior officers' poker game, and that was typically on either Tuesday or Thursday evenings, events permitting. "And even if it was, it's pretty late."

"Commander Data suggested I might find you here," he said, ignoring my observation about the time. "This isn't the ship from your birthday party."

"No, sir. Varuna's too small to host more than two or three people. We used the Intrepid for my party. This is the ship I use for those 'gonzo sailing' sessions Data doesn't like me doing."

"Would you mind increasing the illumination?" I shook my head and wordlessly went to do as he asked. Immediately the deck was flooded with warm amber light. "Much better. I don't want to pull you away from your recreational time, Zoe, but… I felt I should explain my decision about Ensign Sutter in person."

I stiffened slightly. Data had informed me earlier that day that they were planning to do basically nothing about the person who had ensured that Lore's last 'gift' had ended up in our quarters, and I hadn't been particularly gracious about it.

"This sounds like a conversation that might be better over tea. I can make some, down below, if you want… or we can go somewhere else…?" I wasn't accustomed to interacting with this man in so casual a setting, especially one that was – for all intents and purposes – my domain.

"I used to spend summers sailing a vessel not unlike this, when I was a boy," the captain informed me. "Let's go below. I know my way around a propane stove – that is what you have?"

"Yes, sir."

I opened the hatch and led the way down the companionway. Below-deck, Varuna was a picture of cozy efficiency. There was only a single bunk, a sort of wedge-shaped space tucked under the bow, but I had a lantern hanging above it, and a colorful patchwork quilt that just begged to be lounged upon.

The galley was tiny – a two-burner propane stove, a sink, and a small refrigerator tucked underneath. The original version of my wooden sailboat had been designed and constructed before the age of replicators and transporters and starships, and I appreciated the old-school authenticity.

Apparently, the captain did, as well. "You sit," he said, his tone softening the order to a request. "Tea is in the cupboard?"

"Loose tea, yes, sir. In a tin. Kettle is on the top shelf to the left. Infuser is one below.: The shelves had ropes across them to hold things in place in case of rough seas. They wouldn't hold up to the kind of swell I'd put in the program when I used it back in January, but for normal sailing, they were enough. I opened the cupboard at the base of the galley table and retrieved mugs and spoons. "Honey's on the bottom shelf. I'm afraid I didn't stock milk or lemon."

Captain Picard hadn't exaggerated his comfort in such a ship, and in short order we were sitting on opposite sides of the table with steaming mugs of tea in front of us. He held his by the handle, and I noticed for the first time that his hands showed his age more than his face did. His fingers weren't anywhere near as long or as elegant as Data's, but he had his own reserved grace that was compelling to observe. Meanwhile I had wrapped my own hand through the handle of the mug, so that the curve of the pottery was nestled against my palm.

"How much do you know about Daniel Sutter, Zoe?" the captain asked after I'd had time to settle.

"Not much beyond that he has a daughter who's roughly Alexander's age, and that he seems old to be an ensign."

The captain nodded. "I see. I'm going to share some of his history with you, Zoe. I expect that it will stay between us. He lost his wife – Clara's mother – in the battle at Wolf 359." He pronounced the numbers -as almost everyone did – as three distinct words.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Recovering from such a loss would be enough to stall almost anyone's career, but Mr. Sutter had been up for promotion before he and his wife were married. Her pregnancy was difficult, and he took a leave of absence."

"And then he took bereavement leave after…" I didn't finish the sentence.

The captain's confirming nod was grave. "In between he and Clara tried to settle, but life as a single parent in Starfleet is challenging, and it was especially so during the rebuilding."

I nodded that time. "I remember, when Tev – T'vek Mairaj – and I came back to the ship after the Battle." Even I put an audible capital on that word when I was referring to the Borg incursion that had happened during my first Christmas break as a member of the Enterprise family. "I remember Data explaining that so many ships and people had been lost that there were constant reassignments."

I also remembered that Captain Picard had been turned into a Borg named Locutus and made to serve as their spokesperson.

"Quite so."

"But I don't understand how that led to him working for Lore, sir."

I'd always thought the captain's eyes were normal blue or brown – maybe hazel - but at that moment they seemed almost steely, a grey-brown color that reminded me of a stormy sky. He took a long draught of his tea and when he began to speak again, it was in a low, gravelly voice, one that was heavy with too much knowledge, too much experience, and too much guilt.

"Try, Zoe… try to imagine how you might feel if you were a young parent, a young officer. Your wife and daughter cannot always travel with you, and the leave you took in the early days of your marriage already has you off the career trajectory you hoped to have."

I sipped my tea, but I kept my eyes on Picard's face, made sure he could tell I was paying attention.

The captain continued. "Then, just when you've landed an assignment on a Galaxy-class vessel, a ship where your family is not merely tolerated, but welcomed, your universe is turned upside-down. An unstoppable enemy comes from nowhere. All too soon, your wife is dead, your child is now your sole responsibility, and Command keeps moving you from one ship to another, trying as best they can to accommodate your needs as a single parent."

"If you're trying to make me empathize with Ensign Sutt – " I began, but Picard raised a hand to stop me.

"I'd like to finish, if I may."

"Sorry, sir." He gave me a look that reminded me of the way Data looked at me when I said something unnecessary. I wondered if my partner had picked it up from his commanding officer.

"Finally, all the reassignments come to an end. The flagship needs an engineer with your skills, and the officers thereon are known for boosting the careers of those who serve aboard her. You are excited; you know that the Enterprise is a plum billet. But you are also wary. You will be serving under the captain who – unwillingly or not – aided the Borg in their strike against the Federation. You want to serve the man; but you cannot separate the man from the monster."

"You are not a monster, sir," I said.

The captain shifted the angle of his head slightly and I experienced the full force of his anguish. His eyes were dry, but mine were suddenly blurry with tears. "Perhaps not. But to Ensign Sutter I'm the man who killed his wife, and Commander Data is the man who cut the orders to bring him to this ship."

"Because you were on leave and Commander Riker was in command, and he was acting first officer." I remembered Data sitting in the living room of the quarters I shared with my mother, surrounded by padds, working all night while guarding my sleep.

"Quite so," Picard said again, but his voice quivered when he said it, and the hand that was holding his tea was shaking. He caught me noticing it and pushed the mug away, then tapped his comm-badge. "Picard to Commander Data."

"Data here, sir." My partner's voice sounded throughout the ship, rather than emanating from the metal pin on the captain's uniform.

"I believe you and Zoe have a trip to prepare for. If you would report Holodeck Three, I think she'd appreciate an escort home. Have Lieutenant Ferguson take command for the rest of the watch."

If Data perceived anything unusual in the captain's 'request,' it wasn't evident in his voice. All he said was, "Aye, sir. I am on my way."

I expected the captain to take his leave immediately, and he did rise to his feet, but he didn't turn toward the companionway. Instead, he paused, waited for me to look up at him, and held my gaze. "Ensign Sutter's actions aren't being ignored, Zoe. He's been reprimanded. He's also agreed to help us track Lore's location."

I left the booth as well. "Thank you for explaining, sir," I said.

"Thank you for listening, Zoe." He glanced around at the cozy cabin and smiled faintly. "This is a lovely program. If you ever tire of boxing, and don't mind sharing your time with an old man, I'd love to spend an evening sailing."

If he had been any other person, I would have protested that he wasn't old. Then I would have taken the three steps toward him that would have allowed the hug he seemed to need . But he was Captain Jean-Luc Picard, and I was just his second officer's girlfriend, so I met his smile with a watery one of my own and said only, "I'd like that, sir."

(=A=)

Stardate 46287.06

(Tuesday, 15 April 2369, 18:43 hours, ship's time)

Data was already home when I arrived at our quarters a little before seven at night. We were supposed to be leaving for Hamal IV at eleven so that we'd arrive in time to check into our hotel and rest for a while before the opening night programming of the conference we were attending, and we'd spent the morning packing and getting Reg Barclay up to speed on Spot's current routine, but after lunch I'd ducked out, claiming a personal errand, and it had taken me longer than expected.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, leaning across his console to greet him with a brief kiss. "I took longer than I thought I would." I thrust a padd at him and asked, "Could you wear your head-of-ops hat for a moment, and approve this?"

My partner took the device from me and scanned the document that was in active use. "You took the high school equivalency test," he observed.

"Yeah."

"Even though you have less than two months left in the school year?"

"Yeah."

His thumb hovered over the touchscreen. "May I ask why?"

"I don't want to still be a schoolgirl when I meet Commander Maddox," I confessed. "I wanted to be… I need to be finished with high school before we start this trip. I was late because I was waiting for the results, but Ms. Phelps said you or Commander Riker still needed to approve it, before it's official, and you're more accessible."

Data nodded. "I understand." He pressed the virtual button that would confirm the completion of my secondary education and transmit that information to both the school system on Centaurus and my admissions counselor at Yale. "Zoe, why did you not tell me you were going to do this?"

I'd assumed he would want to know that. "Do you remember what I said after everything with the Ferengi?" I knew that he had a memory record of pretty much every conversation we'd ever had, but I was never going to stop asking.

"I do. I also recall promising that I would never require you to step into a role you weren't ready for."

"I know. But this is… this is sort of tangential. We're going to this conference largely to satisfy my curiosity. I'm pretty sure when you attend a cybernetics and AI conference on the arm of the only sentient android in Starfleet, you get noticed, and it will be easier for you if you can tell people I'll be at Yale next semester." I took a beat as I walked to the replicator to order a light dinner. "I didn't really mean to do it without telling you. It wasn't an impulsive decision, exactly, but I was a little concerned you'd talk me out of it. Are you eating, or just me?"

"I will join you," he said, leaving his workstation to join me at the table.

I brought our meal – a lemon and caper pasta dish, and salad – and took my seat. "So, would you have tried to talk me out of it?"

Data surprised me with his answer. "No, Zoe, I would not have. Testing out of high school was an option you considered when we first spoke about your current arrangement, and I understand that this represents a psychological shift as well as an administrative detail."

"And that is why I love you."

"Because I comprehend your motivations?"

"That, among other things." I ate some of the pasta before I spoke again. "You didn't have to have the captain track me down on the holodeck last night. I would have been fine hearing the long version of the decision about Ensign Sutter from you."

"I do not doubt that. However, you and the captain have formed a special relationship of your own, and he felt that there were nuances to the situation that would be best understood coming from him."

"'Special relationship?' You make it sound like we're representing foreign powers in a game of diplomacy." I was joking, but at the same time, there was a kernel of truth in what I'd said.

"Not as such," he countered. "But your friendship is outside the hierarchy of rank, and he appreciates the conversations that you share as much as he enjoys sparring with you in a boxing ring."

I could feel myself blushing. "Did he actually say that?"

"He did," Data said.

"Hmm."

"Zoe?"

"Nothing. I mean… I'm not sure what to think."

"I would suggest that you simply accept it as fact, and not dwell upon it."

"Yeah," I said for possibly the thousandth time that evening. "So," I began, changing the subject, "what do I need to pack for this trip? Is the same group of people that attend the conference you went to on Kneriad a couple years ago likely to be there? Do you have geeky cyberneticist friends you've been withholding from me?"

"The conference I generally attend is one that is geared more toward 'research and development,' while the Hamalki event is more academic in nature."

"So… more conceptual, less practical?"

"Precisely."

"I'm going to feel like an utter idiot all weekend, aren't I?"

But Data surprised me by disagreeing. "It is true that you are neither a cyberneticist nor a scientist at all, but you are intellectually curious – "

" – like you – " I interjected. It was one of the first commonalities we had discovered about each other.

"Indeed - and you have likely absorbed much more knowledge than you recognize, merely through our relationship. As well, I believe you may enjoy some of the philosophical discussions. Did you notice that one of the lectures is being offered by a professor from Yale?"

We continued our discussion of the program while we finished dinner and I figured out what to wear, and then I took a shower and changed into a jogging suit that was suitable for a shuttle trip. I saw no point in dressing up for the trip; I'd change right before we arrived.

(=A=)

Stardate 46292.81

(Thursday, 17 April 2369, 21:03 hours, adjusted local time)

Hotel Charlotte, Hamal IV

We were three minutes late to the cocktail party.

We'd checked into the hotel around three in the afternoon and gone directly to the conference registration to pick up our packets of data flimsies telling us the schedule of panels and labs – there were a couple of hands-on sessions.

The time left before the party was spent napping (me) and talking (both of us, though Data was uncharacteristically quiet), until I got up to have a light dinner. While the invitation had mentioned that there would be hors d'oeuvres available that evening, I knew from similar events with my father that eating first was always a wise precaution.

Finally, I'd paused in the finishing touches of hair and makeup to ask my partner, "Put this on for me?" I held up the pink pearl necklace he'd given me nearly a year before.

His delicate fingers had the clasp fastened at the nape of my neck in no time, and he'd placed a kiss there as well.

I blotted my lipstick, and rose from the vanity chair, smoothing my dress. I'd chosen a deep purple rather than black because I liked the way it complimented the gold of his dress uniform. Looking at our reflection in the mirror I smiled and asked if I looked alright.

"You are beautiful," came my lover's simple answer, accompanied by his hand reaching for my hair, as if our preparations could not be considered complete until he'd touched it. "My Zoe."

I'd grinned at him. "Yes," I said. "I am."

Twenty minutes later, Data and I were in the top-floor bar, ensconced on a love seat in one of many groupings of furniture that set in various configurations under what appeared to be fairy lights embedded in spider webs, deep in conversation with a Vulcan/Orion hybrid, a giant housecat, and a crystal spider.

I'd expected Data to be recognized. I'd expected people to greet him. I hadn't considered that being his date – the first he'd ever brought to any conference – would cause people to become interested in me, but it was kind of fun meeting some of my boyfriend's acquaintances from previous gatherings.

A significant number of the people who had come to greet us had been women, but most of them were older – leaders in their fields, or tenured professors at some of the best science and technical schools in the Federation.

A few had been younger and had displayed disappointment that the cybernetics world's literal golden boy was now 'taken.'

Finally, we were approached by someone who made Data's face brighten in a way that meant she was a real friend. The woman, who introduced herself as L'mura, had the dusky green skin of an Orion female. Her features were Vulcan, but her hair was long, and arranged in one of the latest styles, and her manner was warm but reserved.

"You two look like you could use a little rescuing," she'd said after flashing me a friendly smile. "You'll have to forgive everyone. Data's never come to one of these things with a date before, and we're all curious about the woman who managed to capture an android's heart."

"I have been remiss," Data observed. "L'mura, this is my girlfriend, Zoe Harris. Zoe, L'mura is actually Dr. L'mura Jedush; she teaches a course in cybernetics at the university on Rigel VII."

The black-haired woman flashed me another smile. "You look a bit young to be a scientist," she said, but then she added. "Forgive me; I'm too blunt sometimes."

"My interest in the subject is personal," I explained, glancing at Data, as if it wasn't obvious why I'd wanted to attend a cybernetics conference. "But I'm hoping I'll be allowed into the Philosophy of AI course at Yale next semester."

"Yale?" She arched an eyebrow. "Impressive. But then I think we all knew that when Data finally found the right woman, she wouldn't be anything but. I'd love to hear more, but you really should come join us. Whiskers and Chimes are here, Data, and we've saved seats for you. For both of you."

Data glanced at me with a questioning look and waited for my slight nod before responding. "Thank you. We would be happy to join you."

"It's that way. I'll rejoin you in a bit." And she disappeared into the milling crowd.

"She likes you," I teased my partner after L'mura was out of earshot.

"I consider her a friend," he responded.

"No, I mean, she likes you. Should I be jealous?" I really was only teasing. "I knew you were known, but I didn't realize the people here would realize what a catch you are."

"If anyone has cause for jealousy, dearest, it is not you. Come, let us join the group. I believe you and Chimes will 'hit it off' and Whiskers is the professor you wish to meet."

"Whiskers and Chimes? Really? You will explain these nicknames – they are nicknames, right?"

"All will soon be made clear," he said in a tone that meant both he wanted me to form my own impressions and also that he was teasing me a little.

"Great, I'm dating a magic eight ball," I grumbled. But I enjoyed the slight pressure of his hand at the small of my back as he guided me through the warren of people and tables until we'd found the group L'mura had indicated.

"D'ta! It's about time." The greeting came from one of the many Hamalki who were present at the conference, though she was the only one in this particular group. "We sent L'm'ra to rescue you, but she's disappeared. She said you brought a date." Her voice sounded like windchimes, which was typical for her species: meter-tall twelve-limbed arachnids that looked like they were made of polished glass. Also typical of her species was a tendency to avoid vowel sounds. The translators built into our comm-badges rendered her words into understandable language, but proper names weren't translated.

"It is good to see you again, Ch'm's" Data answered. "This is Zoe Harris, and she is not merely a date. We are –" He used a Hamalki word that the translator in my comm-badge (which I'd worn inside the strap of my dress) rendered as life-mates and I looked at him sharply. I'd be asking about that later. "Ch'm's is an Architectrix," he shared with me.

The title, I knew, was reserved for the very best engineers and architects on Hamal IV.

"Life-mates?" Even after working for a Hamalki music store owner over my holiday break a couple years before, I hadn't realized they could focus all twelve of their eyes on a forward target – me. "Well met, Z'e H'rr's, and welcome to our web. If you cannot say my name, you may call me 'Chimes.'"

It was a traditional greeting, I knew. "Just Zoe is fine," I said. "And thank you. I'm pleased to be sharing your orb.

Chimes's crystal thorax flushed pink, expressing delight. "You know our greeting. Did Data coach you?"

"Actually, no," I said. "I worked for a Hamalki retailer on Centaurus a couple of years ago – just after Data's last visit to Kneriad. S'l'k owns Sebastian's Music, and she taught me a lot."

"I went to school with S'l'k's daughter. S'l'k'a might make an appearance here on Saturday if she remembers to surface from her research. So, you worked in a music store. Is that how you and Data met?"

We had taken our seats during that exchange, and I felt my partner's arm curve around me, his hand stretching to rest against my hip. He wasn't typically quite that demonstrative in public, but the contact helped me relax a bit. I took a moment to look at the drink menu embedded into the table in the center of our space and ordered a vodka cranberry and a sparkling Altair water with lime.

"Zoe was my student on the Enterprise," Data answered before I could. "She was initially one of the members of an advanced mathematics tutorial, but we began an exploration of music theory together. Over time, our relationship changed from purely teacher/student to one of friendship, and eventually… more."

"And now you make beautiful music together?" came the teasing purr of a tomcat, if tomcats could speak Standard. I turned toward the voice and found myself staring at a giant calico housecat who was at least as tall as my partner. I recognized him as Eeiauoan, but I'd never met one of his kind in person before, and I had to fight the urge to bury my hands in his luxurious fur.

He reacted to my less-than-polite stare by preening, while Data informed me, "Wire-Whiskers is the Yale professor mentioned in the brochure. His name is left out because his seminars are immensely popular."

"My friends call me 'Whiskers,'" the Eeiauoan clarified.

"She'll be calling you 'Professor Whiskers' come fall," L'mura informed him. I hadn't seen her return, but she was perched on the arm of the professor's chair. "Zoe's going to Yale."

"I don't suppose you'll be in the engineering or science department?" Whiskers asked hopefully. Looking closely at his face, I could see why he'd been named as he had: his whiskers looked like coiled wires or springs.

Our drinks arrived, and Data gave me the vodka, though he warned me, with a whisper in my ear, "This is not synthehol."

I nodded and reminded him that I'd eaten dinner for a reason, then turned back to Whiskers to answer, "I'm afraid not. I'm going to be studying theatre and social justice."

His ears literally perked up. "Social justice, a worthy and needed field. Tell me, Zoe, have you read much about AI rights?"

"Not as much as I probably should have, all things considered, but I can't deny that the subject interests me." I glanced at my partner again, but he was in conversation with L'mura and Chimes. "I'm really looking forward to your seminar, though. I asked Data if buying your book might get me a seat in your class – I know it's meant for sophomores and higher – but he refused to conjecture."

Was it wrong that I saw echoes of Spot in the way the professor tilted his head? "You're an entering freshman?" He turned his attention to Data for a moment, studying him, then he returned his focus to me.

"Yes." For a moment, I was afraid he would do the math and object to my relationship with Data, but he just sort of nodded to himself. "You're attending my seminar Saturday morning?"

"Yes."

"And you'll be at the Yale mixer on Saturday afternoon?"

"I'd planned to be; yes."

He changed tacks. "Why theatre? Why social justice?"

After a warming sip of vodka cranberry, I explained. "I've been a performer all my life. It was always expected that I'd go to the Martian Academy, like my father, but I really want a broader course of study. I spent the summer and last semester on tour with the Idyllwild Troupe, and since returning to the Enterprise, I've been interning with the protocol officer and spending some time with the JAG officer as well."

I saw him blink three times in rapid succession and caught his slitted pupils narrowing and then opening up again. "Interesting. And you believe performing on stage can change the world?" he challenged.

"I believe the right performance can provoke thought and emotions which can be channeled to create social change," I responded.

I felt Data's hand squeeze my hip and dropped my own to touch his for a few seconds, as the conversation continued. I heard Data explaining to L'mura and Chimes that we'd come because I'd wanted to meet another of the speakers, and the Hamalki Architectrix asked which one.

"Bruce Maddox," Data answered. "He and I have been corresponding, and Zoe wished to meet him herself."

"So, you're putting a demon to rest?" Chimes asked. "We all know Br'ce's history with Data." The needle-sharp spines on her abdomen bristled, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Whiskers' hackles rise."

"Something like that," I agreed.

When silence threatened to destroy the mood, Whisker's deftly turned the subject to music, and the four of us were soon enjoying an animated discussion when a voice I'd only ever heard on recordings interrupted us.

"Architectrix, Professors, it's good to see you. Commander Data, I hoped I'd run into you tonight." There was something about the man that was slightly off. His manner reminded me a little of Admiral Satie, and a lot of a used-flitter salesman.

"Commander Maddox," Data said, squeezing my hip and then letting go. "I do not believe you have met my partner. Zoe, this is Bruce Maddox. Commander, Zoe Harris."

I was never certain if I was supposed to stand up during such introductions, but since no one else rose to their feet, including Data, I didn't either, which is good because if I'd had to shake his hand he would have found mine to be sweaty from sudden nervousness. At the same time, though, I was confused. How, I wondered, could the man who wanted to take my lover apart seem so ordinary?

"I received your invitation to lunch. My panel is tomorrow morning, but it should finish in time for me to find you," Maddox said. Was it just me, or did everything he said seem kind of smarmy?

"As Zoe and I will be attending your panel, 'finding' us should pose little difficulty." Data pointed out. Anyone else would have laced that sentence with snark. From my boyfriend it was completely innocent.

"No, I suppose not," the man in science blue agreed. "I look forward to it. Forgive me for interrupting your evening."

"Not at all," Data replied. "We will see you then."

As Maddox left, he cast a glance back at us, over his shoulder. I had the distinct impression that he wanted to be part of our group but couldn't figure out how to get invited.

"I truly dislike that man," L'mura announced after Maddox had left us. "Men should not simper. Especially not when they're smirking at the same time."

"Tell us what you really think, L'm'ra," came the melodious sound of Chimes's amused voice.

"The problem with Bruce Maddox is that he'd actually be capable of real brilliance if his own ego didn't get in the way," Whiskers put in. Then he yawned. "I'm afraid the space-lag is getting to me. Ladies, Data, thank you for a lovely evening." I felt something furry on my wrist and looked down to find the professor's tail curled around it. Startled, I looked into his eyes. "You're a delightful young woman, Zoe Harris. I look forward to seeing you in my seminar and to speaking with you more at the mixer."

My smile wasn't quite a grin, but I was pleased by his apparent acceptance. "Thank you, Professor. I'm looking forward to both."

His tail tightened around my wrist and then released, and – inasmuch as a cat can wink – he winked at me. "Call me Whiskers," he purred. "We have friends in common."

(=A=)

Stardate 46294.61

(Friday, 18 April 2369, 12:47 hours, local time)

Hotel Charlotte, Hamal IV

"So, if there are no more questions, I'd like to thank you all for attending. The discount code for my book is in the conference packet. I encourage you all to acquire it." There was polite applause and then the room-lights came up to normal illumination, making Bruce Maddox appear small and almost insignificant as he left the dais, and skirted the room heading for the main doors.

"Are you buying his book?" I asked Data, who was sitting next to me near the aisle at the back of the room. We'd chosen our seats in order to be unobtrusive, and it had worked, mostly. A few people had recognized Data as they entered, and one or two had paused to exchange greetings.

"I had not intended to," my partner replied. "Though if you would care to read it, we can certainly purchase a copy to share."

"Seriously, he should give you a copy," I said. "And credit you with half his material."

"Much of his research was done independently, Zoe, based on those notes that Dr. Soong deigned to make public before his retreat to Terlina III."

"But he knows you're now in possession of the estate, yes?"

"I believe so," Data responded. "But I am not certain. And I have not asked him to confirm that he is aware of my… inheritance. In any case, this is neither the time nor the appropriate venue for this conversation. If we are to make our lunch date with Commander Maddox, we must leave now."

I couldn't argue his point, so I waited for him to exit the aisle seat, and then I slid out next to him, and smoothed the skirt I'd chosen to wear. I'd brought almost entirely skirts and dresses on the trip; never underestimate the power and confidence boost of a killer wardrobe.

The crowd had already thinned by the time we made our way to the casual café in the lobby. This hotel had a formal restaurant as well, but the café was the better choice for lunch, and it was late enough that most people were getting their food to go and taking it to other panels or seminars. Commander Maddox was waiting for us near the concierge stand, and we were guided to a table in the back almost instantly.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Data began, after a server had taken our orders. "I found your presentation intriguing, and I am eager to discuss some of the results you have achieved with your prototype."

"I'd be happy to," Maddox answered. "But I was under the impression this was a social lunch."

"It is," I said, entering the conversation. "I recently learned that you and Data have been corresponding about a lot more than just the development of a functional positronic matrix, and I wanted to find out, in person, why he would choose to seek personal advice from the man who wants to take him apart."

If I was brutally honest in my reason for wanting to meet the cyberneticist, he was decently embarrassed. He even blushed.

"That was… that was a long time ago," Maddox said. "I let my personal ambition and… and ego… cloud my perception of Commander Data." He had been addressing me, but he switched his focus to include both of us in his next statement. "I have to admit, I was surprised when I learned you were dating, Data. Or that you were so young, Zoe. When I learned you were coming to this conference, I hoped I would meet you."

It's possible that he was sincere, but he just seemed too smarmy for belief. Too smooth. "Well," I said, "now you have."

"You're a student?" He addressed me again.

"I'm doing an internship with the protocol and JAG officers on the Enterprise, in preparation for when I start at Yale in the fall semester," I answered.

"You set it up for her?" Maddox asked Data.

"I did not," Data answered. "Captain Picard was approached by Captain Louvois about the Enterprise being host to a pilot program for live-aboard students who were not necessarily Academy candidates, and it was he who tapped Zoe as a participant."

"Captain Louvois?"

"Philippa," I clarified. "I believe you're familiar with her." It wasn't a question. We all knew how Maddox and Louvois had originally met.

"But you were only selected because you're Data's girlfriend." Maddox wasn't asking a question, either.

"No, Commander, she was not. Zoe and Captain Picard share a fondness for wooden sailing vessels and athletic pugilism."

"Pugilism?" Maddox asked, looking at me with a bit more focus. "You… box?"

"I'm told I have a mean right hook," I answered helpfully. "Do you mind if I ask you a question now? Actually, I have a few."

He seemed caught between amusement and annoyance. "By all means, Zoe."

"Thank you, Bruce. I can call you Bruce, right? I mean, I noticed you and Data still address each other by rank, which makes me worry that maybe you're treating him – and by extension our relationship – as a science experiment."

I expected Data to say something slightly admonishing to me. I could tell he was uncertain about the direction our conversation was heading, and I really wasn't trying to cause a scene, but something about the black-haired scientist just irritated me.

But then Maddox exhorted his aid.

"Data, I thought we were becoming friends… you can't believe this… young woman's irrational accusation is valid?"

"In the time I have known Zoe, I have never noticed a tendency toward irrationality. When she discovered that I had been corresponding with you about our relationship, I expected that she would accuse me of treating our relationship as an experiment, which," he reached for my left hand and laced his fingers through mine, "it is not. The question would not have been irrational, however, nor would it have been invalid. I have also observed that Zoe often perceives things that I miss. If we are, indeed, becoming friends, should we not drop the use of titles when we communicate… Bruce?"

Contact with Data made me feel calmer, even though I knew he'd made that gesture as much because he was making a point as because he was gauging my state of mind by surreptitiously checking my pulse, but my real attention was on Maddox.

"We should have been on a first-name basis years ago, Data," our tablemate agreed with the merest hint of a stammer on the word should. "And for the record, Zoe, no, I do not view Data or your relationship with him as any kind of experiment. I'm… I'm pleased that he has found someone."

His manner had changed, loosened up slightly, on that last sentence. "Okay. So… can we trust that whatever Data writes to you goes no further than your eyes and ears? Some of it was pretty personal."

"You have my word."

"Throw in a free copy of your book and I'll accept that." I was kidding, mostly. I wanted to see what he said.

The scientist's brown eyes widened. "Oh, of course! I should have… I should have offered a copy in the first place." He hesitated. "Zoe, what did you think of my presentation?"

"Your delivery is a little stiff," I said. "Consider taking an acting class to help loosen up on stage. Data could give you pointers, he's quite a natural."

"You act?" Maddox seemed surprised by that idea.

"I have been a member of the theatre group on the Enterprise since its inception," Data replied. "I have had the privilege of sharing the stage with Zoe more than once before she joined the Idyllwild Troupe last year. It has been a great help to my personal development."

"I'll consider it," Bruce agreed. "But I meant the content."

"Well, I'm not sure how much I understood, but what I did was interesting. I'm really not a scientist, and my interest in the subject of cybernetics and AI really is personal."

"I think my book might be beneficial to you, then. And of course, feel free to contact me if you have any questions."

We'd all been eating while we talked, and I knew Data really did want to discuss Maddox's current project so, finished with the chicken Caesar salad I'd ordered, I pushed my plate away, and began the motions of leaving. "I'm going to let you two discuss other things," I said, "but I have one more question before I go."

I waited for Maddox to nod, and then asked. "I don't get it. I don't understand how you could spend even five minutes with Data and doubt his personhood. Was he that different, back then?"

I expected him to blow off the question, especially after the conversation we'd just had, but he ducked his head in apparent shame, then raised it and met my eyes. "He was a little different. Less comfortable in social environments, more eager to please people. But the truth is that I didn't want to accept him as a person. I wanted to have a 'thing' to explore." He turned to Data, and said, very sincerely, "I did you a disservice, and I apologize."

"There is no need," Data replied. "It is possible that your dissenting vote on my Academy admission, and your refusal to accept that I was – that I am – more than just circuits and programming spurred me to truly become the person I believed myself capable of being."

"Have you succeeded?" Maddox challenged.

"I do not believe anyone's life is ever complete until it has ended," Data answered, in what I recognized as his philosophical tone, "but, I am coming closer to that ideal every day." He surprised me by reclaiming my hand. "Much of my recent personal growth can be directly attributed to Zoe, and to our relationship."

"And that's my cue," I said, in a much brighter tone than I'd had when we'd started our meal. "The hotel has a salon and spa. I might see if they have an opening for a pedicure… you promised me dancing, and I want my feet to be ready for it."

"Dancing?" Maddox asked. "Ah… at The Orb?"

"Yes!" Data's response was also brighter than the one he'd been using before. "Dinner and dancing were part of 'the deal' when Zoe suggested we come here."

"I'm sure you'll have a lovely time," Maddox said. "My partner and I will also be at The Orb tonight; perhaps we'll run into each other."

"Perhaps we will," I said, with a bit of a cheeky undertone. "But I intend to spend most of the evening dancing. My partner is an absolute machine on the dance floor."

Data's mouth curved up at the corners, but Maddox stared at me for a long moment before he allowed himself to laugh. I brushed a kiss across my boyfriend's mouth and left the two of them to discuss positronics and neural nets until the café staff kicked them out.

(=A=)

Stardate 46295.58

(Friday, 18April 2369, 21:21 hours, local time)

The Orb Restaurant, Hotel Charlotte, Hamal IV

"Are you enjoying the conference so far?" Data asked me as we moved in a slow waltz on the dance floor. We'd shared a vegetarian entrée for our meal and were waiting to order dessert until after we'd danced a bit.

"It's been interesting," I answered honestly. "I ran into L'mura in the spa. She said I'd probably get more out of Whiskers's presentation than I did out of Maddox's, but I know it's likely to be too basic for you, so if you want to attend something else, we can just find each other at lunch."

"That would be acceptable," he agreed, "if you are certain you are comfortable being alone."

"Well, I am a little worried some hot female cyberneticist might steal you away from me," I teased. "Especially the way you're dressed." Once again, Data had chosen to wear his dress uniform, and I'd chosen a deep maroon dress that I knew would complement the color.

"Then I must endeavor to reassure you that such a thing could never happen," he responded. "Perhaps we should cut the evening short and return to our room after dessert."

I smiled at him. "I like this plan."

"I suspected that you would."

The music changed and we paused to acknowledge the live band. The next song was another slow piece, though more freeform than a waltz, and I used the opportunity to slide my hands over Data's chest and clasp them behind his neck. "People are staring at us," I said softly.

His hands came to rest at the small of my back. "People have stared at us before, Zoe, and I do not need to remind you that such behavior will likely follow us wherever we go. If you are bothered by it…"

"I'm not," I said, interrupting. "I just… Data, you're holding me so close and you look so handsome and I feel pretty – "

He cut me off, "You are beautiful."

"Thank you; but I wasn't fishing for compliments. If we were dancing like this on the Enterprise, even in formal dress, we'd have shared a kiss by now, and I can't help wondering if we're both holding back, not because we have an audience, but because of who the audience includes."

I took a breath, letting the slight pressure of Data's hands guide my steps. It crossed my mind to ask him if he often felt the way I did just then, like a bug under a microscope, but I didn't want ruin what was left of the mood.

Data's response was to release one of his hands from my back and reach up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. "I have been holding back," he said in a near whisper. "But not because we are surrounded by people who would likely want to ask questions about our relationship that I have no wish to answer. I have been holding back because I do not wish to stop with merely kissing you."

"Since when do you experience desire?" I challenged softly.

"I am devoted to you." His words were a breath in my ear. "Should desire not be a component of that?"

I pulled away from him to search his face. "It should be, yes, Data, but…"

His eyes were already flickering back and forth, searching for information. "But I should not be experiencing it," he said, completing my unfinished sentence. "You are correct, Zoe. And yet, here on this dance floor, with you in my arms, I… want."

The song ended. The bandleader announced a break between sets.

His right hand still at the small of my back, Data guided me back to our table. "I think we should go," I said, as I retrieved my evening bag.

"But you did not have your dessert," he pointed out. "You mentioned the chocolate raspberry torte specifically."

"Data, all the chocolate in the world couldn't distract me from what you just said, and I don't think it's a topic to be explored in public. I'd like to go back to our room, please." If he was… feeling… desire, I didn't want to waste it. He'd tasted love once, for only ten seconds. Who knew how long this would last?

My partner chose not to continue the discussion, and signaled for our server, instead. It took less than two minutes for me to be presented with a to-go order of the cake I'd wanted, and for our meal to be billed to our room.

As we left the restaurant, we saw Bruce Maddox arrive for the late seating, and get ushered to a table where another man was already waiting. I couldn't see the second man's face, but I saw the cyberneticist lean across the table to kiss him and heard him murmur an apology for being late.

The answering voice, stating that he'd only been waiting a few minutes, was vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't place it, and honestly, I was more interested in what was going on with Data.

Data's long fingers were pulling at the fastening of my dress almost before the hotel room door had closed and locked behind us. "Zoe, I… I want you." He repeated what he'd whispered on the dance floor, the slight quiver in his voice telling me as much about how he… felt… as the actual words he'd spoken.

I looked into his face, into those so-familiar yellow eyes, and all thoughts of questioning whether or not we should pause to analyze went out my head. Once, over a year before, Data had told me that the thought of sex with me was 'appealing.' Since then, he'd made it clear that he enjoyed our physical intimacy, that it meant something to him.

More recently, he'd reminded me that passion was beyond him, when I'd suggested a quick encounter on the living room couch.

But in that moment? There was something more in his eyes than I was accustomed to seeing, and his hands on my clothes, on my skin, radiated a kind of urgency I'd assumed I'd never experience from him.

Data's desire sparked my own, and I reached for his uniform jacket, opening it, and pushing it off his shoulders. I tugged on the t-shirt he wore under it, and he let go of me long enough to remove it. Then he guided me, backwards, to the bed.

I don't remember him removing my bra, or my stockings, or underwear. I don't remember him stepping out of the trousers I'd unfastened.

I remember his face buried in my hair for a long moment, as if the scent was somehow new to him. I remember the way he kissed me, almost reverently. Kissing Data had always been one of my favorite aspects of our relationship but that night he showed me that kissing could be its own art form.

We didn't talk, but as our bodies came together his breathing changed to match mine, and when his climax came, a little after my own, his voice shuddered as he called my name over and over. "Zoe… my – my Zoe."

"Data…" I answered his call, his own name a whisper from my lips. We shifted against each other and kissed again. "Are you alright?" His eyes were flickering back and forth, and I felt like if I used more volume, I might spook him.

"I am funct- I am fine," he answered, but he sounded distant even though we were literally still wrapped up in each other. He was quiet for another minute or two, and then everything about him seemed to relax. "Zoe… I felt. I… "

There are no rulebooks for relationships with unique beings. There are no how-to guides to help you walk your supposedly-emotionless android partner through his first – well, second – fully-fledged emotional experience. I was amazed and terrified and hopeful and wary, all at once. At the same time, I sensed that my reaction would be critical. Anything other than total support and love could send Data into an extreme of emotional denial.

I reached up to brush a fallen piece of my lover's hair away from his face, and met his lips in another, gentle, kiss. "I know, love." I said softly, feeling suddenly so much older than eighteen. "I saw… I felt it with you."

"It was… overwhelming," he said softly. "I wanted only to experience the softness of your skin, to inhale the scent of your hair, to taste your lips when I kissed you."

"And now?"

He was silent for a long moment, as if he were taking stock. (He likely was.) "The… feeling… is still there, but it is somewhat… muted."

"Should I worry? Should we call Geordi? Do you need to perform a self-diagnostic?" I couldn't help the questions that tumbled out of me.

"No." Data answered all three questions with a single word. "I am cataloguing my reactions and responses for later analysis, but right now, Zoe, I wish to… I wish to continue this experience, if you are up to it."

"Up to it?" I gave him my best 'challenge accepted' look as laughter bubbled out of me.

He swallowed my laughter with his next kiss, and then he rolled us so that I was on top of him. "Data!" My shriek was part startlement and part delight. "Again?" I asked.

"Still," he corrected, reaching up to twist some of my hair between his fingers. Very softly, he added, "Always."

I wasn't sure if it was a promise, or a prayer.

(=A=)

Stardate 46297.04

(Saturday, 19 April 2369, 10:03 hours, local time)

Ballroom B, Hotel Charlotte, Hamal IV

I was squirming in my front-row seat at Whiskers's presentation, certain everyone around me could tell I'd literally been having sex all night. An android who was experiencing desire for the first time was also, it turned out, an android who was insatiable.

We probably should have discussed what was going on in Data's head, but he'd pointed out that his choice to analyze the emotional reaction he'd had on Terlina III a year before meant he hadn't been able to share it with me and, "I do not know how long this will last," he'd said, echoing my own thoughts. "I do not want to miss this experience."

I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd focused on his own pleasure, under the circumstances, but Data had put my needs first every time, until finally, after round three, I'd had to ask him to stop so I could rest.

"I love you," I reminded him. "And I love that you want me, but if you don't let me sleep, I'll be useless for the rest of the weekend."

Logic trumped desire, and there was a part of me that was disappointed.

The bigger part of me was relieved to be able to settle into sleep, and while his long fingers on my skin had been arousing, earlier, by the end of the night he'd changed the motion and the rhythm, so that his touch was soothing, instead.

Still, I was a little sore.

I fidgeted again, finally moving into a comfortable position in the too-firm chair, and focused on the giant talking housecat on the dais.

"You can't program a neural network," Whiskers said, shocking me into attention with the ferocity of his statement. "You can set parameters, but in order to remain stable and function optimally the network has to learn and grow, much like the brain of any organic being."

His presentation went on from there, and I was riveted, both by the way he presented himself, and by the concepts he was sharing.

Whiskers moved away from his initial statement and started talking about what was programmed and what wasn't, first for organic beings – "Consider your autonomic functions as your baseline programming." – and then for AI systems. He eased us away from hardware and into nuances of software. "Think about where code ends and real thought begins," he challenged us. "Think about what it means to think."

I had my padd out, initially intending to take notes, but as soon as I opened a new document, my head started spinning with questions, not for the professor, but for Data. Questions like: if you couldn't program a neural net, and if Lal had developed emotions, and if her net had been based on Data's own, how come he didn't perceive emotions of his own?

Or was that the reason he'd been able to experience desire the night before?

Buy why desire and not love?

And did this latest feeling even count as an emotion?

And if it didn't than what was it?

And if it did, had it come from within Data's own growth or was it another trick, somehow instigated by Lore.

I shivered in my chair as the last thought occurred to me, then gave myself a mental shake. Whiskers was about to wrap up, by leading us all to his point, and I didn't want to miss it.

"Now," he said, "considering everything we've discussed today, what would you say is the most powerful phrase an artificial intelligence can utter?"

Members of the audience threw out suggestions. "I think," someone said. "I know," someone else contributed. "I am," one more person said.

"Good ideas, all of you, but you're not quite there," Whiskers said. "There's someone here who likely does know the correct answer though," he continued. I saw him scanning the audience and turning his green-eyed gaze in my direction. "Zoe, would you care to enlighten us."

I hesitated, because while I had understood most of what he'd said, I didn't have any suggestions that hadn't already been made.

Whiskers seemed to understand that I was at a loss. "Someone of our mutual acquaintance has a two-word phrase that we organics use casually, but that you're going to recognize has profound depth, now," he hinted.

I knew he meant Data, but I wasn't sure what two words he wanted me to say. I replayed the audience suggestions in my head, and then I heard Data's voice echoing back from so many memories. "I told your father that I believed our association may be permanent," he'd said once. "I believed I could be an adequate partner, and one day a suitable mate for you."

Knowledge clicked in my head, and I met Whiskers's eyes. "I believe," I said. "The words you're looking for are 'I believe.'"

I was not the only one thunderstruck by that notion.

(=A=)

Stardate 46302.66

(Monday, 21 April 2369, 11:21 hours, ship's time)

U.S.S. Descartes, NCC-1701-D-011

"You have been very quiet, Zoe. Is something wrong?" Data stepped out of the cockpit of our shuttle to join me in the main cabin.

"Not wrong, exactly," I said. "I just… I had a lot thrown at me over the weekend and I'm still…" I favored him with a wry smile. "I'm still processing."

After I'd left Whiskers' seminar and Data had finished with Chimes's presentation, we'd spent the remainder of the conference together. The Yale mixer ended with Whiskers inviting both Data and me to join a poker game with Chimes and L'mura that evening, and I surprised my partner by agreeing.

"You dislike poker," Data had reminded me.

"True," I'd confirmed, "but declining would have been rude. Besides, it's not so much that I dislike it as that it would be inappropriate to join the officers' game on the Enterprise, even though every one of you – except Lt. Worf – has now invited me to do so. Maintaining the fiction that I hate the game allows all of us a diplomatic 'out.'"

The game had been a friendly one, played for points, and I hadn't been surprised when Data and Chimes were the last two players, but I was surprised that the Hamalki woman won.

Still, I'd enjoyed the group, and watching Data interact with peers who weren't Starfleet was educational. He was looser among them than he was on the ship, and his conversation with L'mura over the ethics of using service 'droids had fascinated me, not because he had been against it (as I knew he would be) but because I'd rarely seen him so animated.

Even with coffee and dessert that we'd all shared after the card game, we'd still been back in our room by one in the morning, where we'd stayed, skipping brunch in favor of more intimate activities, until check-out time at noon.

By fourteen hundred hours we were back aboard the shuttle, where, as Data had observed, I'd withdrawn into silence, trying to assimilate all the information – technical, personal, and emotional – the weekend had produced.

"If there is something that is causing you difficulty, please share it with me?" Data requested. "I would like to… help."

I hated to make him worry, but I didn't even know where to begin.

I patted the bench beside me, "Sit a minute?" He did, and I turned toward him. "I'm still reeling over Friday night," I said. "I keep wanting to ask you if you still feel it. I want to know if it happened organically – " Off a look from him, I interrupted myself. "- I'm sorry I don't know a better word – or if it was triggered. I keep worrying Lore is involved. And I know you're going to do a diagnostic when we get home, and we should probably wait and discuss it afterward."

"That would be the wisest course of action," Data agreed. "Zoe, whatever we determine I will always have a perfect memory record of the experience, and I will always associate the… feeling… of desire with you."

"See, you say these things, and it makes me melt, and then all I want to do is kiss you, and I forget what I want to say." I was mostly teasing him. Peering at him through slitted eyes, I accused, "This is all part of your clever scheme to keep me in love with you forever, isn't it?"

Someday, I hoped, he'd be able to laugh with me when I did those bits, but that day, he simply met my eyes with his level gaze. "I do not believe I require a 'scheme,' Zoe, clever or otherwise. I am devoted to you. I believe we belong together. Is that not enough?"

I started to tell him that it was more than enough, but then his words registered in a whole new way. "I believe," I murmured.

"Zoe?"

"Whiskers said something in his seminar, that I meant to bring up with you. Actually, he asked a question. Be impressed; I had the answer."

"What did he ask?"

"At the end of his seminar, he asked the audience to tell him 'the most powerful two words an artificial intelligence could utter.'"

"And what did you answer?"

"'I believe,'" I said. "But the thing is, I didn't really comprehend why those words were so powerful until just now." I was staring at Data, looking at the man I loved with new eyes. "God, you're amazing. And I'm incredibly stupid."

"You are not stupid," he protested. "You have said before that when you understand a new concept it is as if something 'clicked' in your head. Your demeanor at this moment suggests that you have just experienced such a 'click.' Will you tell me?"

"Humans… most of us… when we say something like 'I believe we'll be done around eight,' or 'I believe the answer to your question is twelve,' or whatever… we mean it very casually. But I've been mulling over what Whiskers said and it finally registered. When you say, 'I believe we belong together' or 'I believe we will learn how to endure long separations,' you mean it. You mean it in a way that's deeper and truer than anything else you say. Because facts and figures and information – they can be programmed. But for you to believe something, it has to come from more than programming. It has to come from… from you."

Data was quiet for several seconds after I stopped talking. For a moment, he did that thing where he pulled back into himself, but then his presence expanded again, and a slow smile curved his lips upward. It wasn't the broadest smile I'd ever seen from him, but it was the first that had ever really reached his eyes.

And it was beautiful.

If I had been hoping for profound words to go with that smile, I would have been disappointed, because all my partner said was, "That is… quite correct." Even if he'd said something amazing, something to be recorded in history books, it wouldn't have mattered, because the next thing he did was lift his hand to my face, stroke my cheek, smooth back my hair, and whisper the other two words that had come from him, the ones that meant everything to me: "My Zoe."

Notes: The Hamalki first appeared in the TOS novel The Wounded Sky, by Diane Duane and the Eeiauoans first appeared in the TOS novel Uhura's Song, by Janet Kagen. The name of the hotel refers to the E.B. White novel Charlotte's Web, because in my head-canon the Hamalki name their human-friendly businesses after literary arachnids. (The Hamalki-owned music store on Centaurus, where Zoe worked during her winter vacation in my story For Auld Lang Syne is named for another children's book, an obscure picture-book I had as a kid in the 1970's called Sebastian's Web. It's about a young spider who couldn't manage to spin an orderly web. I don't remember the author.)

As mentioned in the chapter header, this little excursion is sandwiched between actual episodes, and is not canon, though Bruce Maddox is, of course, a canon character. Professor Wire-Whiskers and Ch'm's (Chimes) are my own creations.

Special thanks to Caroline, Selena, and saya4haji (whose real name I don't know) for being awesome sounding boards. Thanks to all the people who left reviews, but weren't logged in, or are using guest accounts – I can't reply to you directly, but I totally would if I could. And, of course, thank you to all of you who stick with me even when it seems like forever between chapters.

****See the oneshot "Desire" for Data's POV of a certain pivotal scene.****

**** See the oneshot "Ethical Considerations" for Data's reaction to this chapter. ****

(Revised 25 September 2019)