Enemies Foreign and Domestic – Part I

Continuity Note: This chapter starts slightly before the first part of "Chains of Command," and is offered in two parts.

Stardate 46347.78

(Wednesday, 7 May 2369, 22:34 hours, ship's time)

U.S.S. Enterprise

"Hi, love, I'm home. Dana said to tell you, that your explanation in class this morning really helped. She'll wow you on Friday's exam." I paused just inside the door to the quarters I shared with Data and focused my attention on him.

I knew that my partner would recognize the contemplative expression on my face. It was a frequent mien for me, especially after Dana, Serena, and I had indulged in a 'girls' night' watching videos with decidedly romantic- and often cheesy – plotlines. Often, whatever I'd seen sparked a fantasy about Data and I replacing the lead characters. Not that I wasn't happy with him as he was, but as Deanna Troi had recently reminded me, a little fantasy is healthy and even fun from time to time.

"Good evening, Dearest. Did you have an enjoyable time?"

"We did. I did." I moved to the side of his desk and stretched across it to kiss him, giving him an excellent vantage point down the front of the V-neck shirt I was wearing. Ever since he'd begun feeling desire, he'd been indulging in things like leering at me when we were home alone. It wasn't really leering, of course. It was more that he was teasing me, in his way, and frankly, knowing I could command that sort of attention from the Man with the Brain the Size of a Planet, was both empowering and flattering.

Data glanced away from my cleavage and met my eyes, the slight lift of his eyebrows informing me that he did peek, and that he'd noticed my black underwear, which meant he also knew that I was feeling amorous. Certain colors of lingerie had been one of my signals ever since our relationship had become sexual, but it had taken on a whole new meaning since his ability to feel desire had kicked in.

Sometimes he had to struggle not to exhaust me, with his libido (or its android equivalent) in a sort of overdrive, but it was the sort of struggle we both enjoyed.

I flashed my lover a playful grin and moved away from his console. His voice followed me, asking, "Have you eaten?" It was a fair question. I tended to forget to eat when I was busy or focused.

"We ordered Chinese food from the replicator," I told him. "Don't stop what you're doing. I really want a bath." As I crossed the threshold into our bedroom, I paused and turned back to him, suggesting in my best come-hither purr, "Come get me out of the bath in about half an hour, and I'll make it worth your while"

"Any time spent with you is 'worth my while,'" Data reminded me. "It will take me approximately thirty-three minutes, fifteen-point-three-seven seconds to complete my task. I will come for you shortly after."

I didn't miss the double entendre, but I also didn't let him see my face. Instead I trilled a laugh and said, "God, I love you."

I let our bedroom door slide closed behind me before he could utter his typical response, but I was pretty certain we were both thinking it.

Roughly ninety minutes later, tangled together in the rumpled sheets of our bed, I placed a kiss in the center of the smooth, gold expanse of Data's bare chest. Then I lifted myself enough to be able to look into his eyes.

"Have you ever considered wearing a kilt?"

It's not the sort of question he'd been expecting. "Kilts are only allowed as part of formal dress uniforms for those officers who have a registered affiliation with one of the extant Scottish clans, either on Earth, or on one of the colony worlds."

"Okay, but, off-duty?"

"You and your friends were watching an entertainment video set in Scotland." It wasn't a question.

I didn't exactly blush. "Well, parts of it were set in Scotland. Eighteenth-century Scotland, to be exact. But other parts took place in mid-twentieth-century Scotland and slightly later twentieth century Boston."

"I am not familiar with such a work."

"No need for you to be. It's basically kilt-porn with an historical setting and a dash of time travel fantasy thrown in."

"Ah. Then I may safely assume that the romantic lead wears a kilt?"

"Aye laddie, he does. And a right bonnie one as well." My accent was a mix of Lachlan Meade, Captain Scott, and the actors on the vid my friends and I had been watching, and either of the first two would have found it appalling.

"And you wish me to indulge you in one of your fantasies." Again, Data was observing, not asking.

I laughed and stretched up to kiss him. "Maybe…" I tease. "Or maybe I just want to see what happens if you show off your handsome knees in public."

"You have never before commented on the aesthetic appeal of any of my joints," Data said drily. "I do not believe there is anything special about them."

"Hmm. Fair point. I guess I should inspect your knees right now to be certain. I mean I know they're not knobby or anything." I was teasing him, flirting shamelessly, but he was playing along.

"As you wish."

I slid down the bed, pushing back the covers as I went, until I was kneeling on the floor at the bottom of the mattress. Beginning with my boyfriend's feet – and paying special attention to his knees, I kissed and licked and caressed my way back up to a much more prominent part of his anatomy, one that was clearly ready for a second round of lovemaking.

I straddled his thighs, pausing a moment to appreciate the texture of the downy hair he chose to grow there.

He lifted his hand to guide himself into my center, and then offered me both his hands to balance against so that I could maintain a more vertical position. My fingers laced through his, I rode him to our mutual completion.

Sated and exhausted, I reached behind me for the covers, pulling them over us both until I was wrapped in warmth and curled up against his solid body, ready for sleep.

Data instructed the computer to extinguish the lights. Then he kissed the top of my head and answered my declaration from hours before. "I am not God, Zoe. I am only Data, and I am devoted to you."

(=A=)

Stardate 46348.88

(Wednesday, 8 May 2369, 08:13 hours, ship's time)

The hot water in our shower was exactly what I needed after a night of playful sex followed by falling asleep on my lover's chest. I loved hearing – and feeling – the subtle thrum of his internal systems, the sound that existed beneath the respiration and pulse that anyone near him could detect – but a solidly built android wasn't always the best pillow. My neck had been a little stiff when I'd first left our bed.

A few minutes of sonics, followed by the heat and pressure of a full-on water shower (not that sonics didn't employ some water anyway – they did, but it wasn't the same) had relaxed my body, and my mood, to the point where I was engaging in something I hadn't done much since Data and I had begun sharing quarters.

I was singing in the shower.

"I needed the shelter of someone's arms and there you were
I needed someone to understand my ups and downs
and there you were
With sweet love and devotion
deeply touching my emotion
I want to stop and thank you baby
I just want to stop and thank you baby

"How sweet it is to be loved by you
How sweet it is to be loved by you."

I laughed at myself, riffing on the ancient tune as I shampooed and conditioned my hair, and then used a depilatory cream on my under-arms and legs. Body hair wasn't stigmatized any more – hadn't been for over a century – but as a swimmer and surfer, I preferred smooth skin; it reduced drag in the water.

I continued my song as I combed out my damp hair and got dressed for a day in the Protocol Office. Though I had taken the equivalency test in order to be done with high school several weeks before, Lt. Prerr, Captain Picard and Captain Louvois of the JAG office had agreed that my internship should continue until I was ready to leave for school in a few months.

Leaving our bedroom, I was still humming, though I stopped long enough to order breakfast from the replicator. Data was working at his console, but he came around his desk to join me at the table. He didn't typically share food with me on weekday mornings, but he always sat with me while I ate.

Starting the day together whenever possible was one of our rituals, and even though I had never been, and would never be, a morning person, it was one of the things I truly loved about our relationship.

I resumed singing as I set my coffee and omelet down at my place and turned to pull my somewhat perplexed partner into an impromptu dance.

"I want to stop and thank you baby
I just want to stop and thank you baby

How sweet it is to be loved by you
How sweet it is to be loved by you."

I stopped singing so I could stretch up for a kiss, and Data used the opportunity to guide me to my chair, asking, "Zoe, are you certain last night's activities did not result in too many endorphins coursing through your system?"

Laughing I kissed him again before actually sitting down. "I promise I'm fine, Data," I said. "I'm just…" I picked up my coffee mug and then set it down. "I'm just really happy. When I was a kid, I used to sing around the house all the time. I'm not exactly sure when I got out of the habit." I added milk to the coffee, stirred it, and picked up the mug once more. "I'll stop if it bothers you."

"No, Zoe. It does not bother me. Your singing is quite enjoyable. It is merely behavior that you do not frequently display."

"Well, be warned, lover-mine, when I'm this happy, living with me is like living in a musical."

He quirked an eyebrow at me, and observed, "If that is the case, it is a 'good thing' that I have taught you how to dance."

I resisted the urge to throw my napkin at him and reached across the table to squeeze and release his hand instead. "I hadn't thought of that, but yes. Yes, it is." I started in on my breakfast, pausing to confirm, "You're back on alpha shift for the next two weeks, aren't you?"

"Unless an emergent situation arises, that is correct."

"So… date night tonight, after rehearsal? It's your turn to choose our activity."

"I have already done so."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Not at this time," he said, in the tone that meant all the wheedling in the world wouldn't get more information out of him.

"Data!"

But my partner only favored me with a level gaze. "If you finish your meal in the next five-point-seven-three minutes, I will be able to walk you to work before I report to the bridge."

I chose to focus on eating.

(=A=)

The Protocol officer on a starship was part diplomat and part quartermaster and reported to the head of Ship's Operations – commonly known as Ops – rather than Command, Security, Science, Medical or any of a number of other divisions within the hierarchy of department and rank.

During the four or so months I'd been assigned to Lt. Tlassam 'Lasso' Prerr as a student intern, I'd been part of a cultural exchange with the Mutherians, been invited to sit in on political and social briefings from official Federation sources, including Ambassador Uhura, whom I'd had the privilege of meeting a year before, and been assigned light duties under the JAG officer, mainly cataloguing reports and assisting with research.

Most of the work we did was fairly innocuous, and no one had ever bothered sending me out of the room when sensitive information was discussed. Either they trusted me, or they trusted my relationship with Data, but either way, I had always been very aware that there would be a time when I'd have to be excluded from things that were going on.

I was surprised, then, when instead of having me report to the JAG office, my boss, Lt. Tlassam 'Lasso' Prerr, pulled me into his office and closed the door.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

"I think you're well aware that your performance has been excellent," Lasso assured me. "Very soon, the Enterprise will be changing course to rendezvous with the Cairo, and I've been asked to inform you that a friend of yours has requested a meeting with you."

"A… friend?" I had no idea what friend could possibly be requesting my presence via Protocol.

"That was the word the admiral used," Lasso confirmed. "Admiral Nechayev will be arriving on the Cairo in a few days and has asked for a meeting with you. Obviously, she will have official meetings with Captain Picard, and I'm afraid even I am not in the loop on what those will cover. I merely wanted to make sure that you were prepared for her arrival."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of spy," I said, choosing to be amused by his secrecy. "Admiral Nechayev's nephew and I were in a play together when he was doing his Semester in Space here, and when I was on Earth the following summer, she sort of adopted me as an affectionate niece. If she's asking for me, it's probably just that she wants to make sure I'm happy and healthy." I paused. "You might want to make sure we have a good replicator recipe for Bularian canapes," I added. "They're her favorite treat; I've never seen her turn one down."

Lasso grinned at me, his teeth gleaming white in contrast to his dark skin. "I shall make a note," he promised. But his expression turned serious once more. "Zoe… it is both a blessing and a curse to have the attention of someone so powerful. A connection with a vice admiral can be a boon, but if you ever abuse it…"

"I would never…." I began, and then I stopped. "I try very hard never to ask Data about the details of his work, and I do the same with Alyn – with Admiral Nechayev. I think of her as an aunt, and we typically stick to things like art and music and my college plans when we chat. She did convince me to tour the Academy once, but it only confirmed what I already knew: I'm meant for a civilian life."

"As you say." I got the feeling Lasso knew more than he was sharing with me, but I chose not to press. "Alright then, Zoe, get back to work… I think the JAG officer wants you pulling case files today?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go to it."

I left Lasso's office feeling slightly ill at ease, but I pushed the feeling away. Maybe I'd ask Data about it later… maybe I wouldn't. Either way, I wouldn't know why Alynna had made a special request to see me until she arrived.

(=A=)

Stardate 46350.12

(Thursday, 8 May 2369, 19:07 hours, ship's time)

"Sorry I'm late," Cress said, rushing into the ship's auditorium with her viola already out of its case. "There was a SOAR meeting and it ran late." She focused her ice-blue eyes on me and added. "I'm surprised you don't attend, Zoe. You really should."

Data and Dennis were already rehearsing the violin parts for our current work-in-progress, a string quartet in C-minor by the German romantic composer Max Bruch. Dennis had selected it – we had a rotation in place for selecting the music – and was also taking the first violin position for the piece, leaving Data to play second. This was a change initiated by Data, but inspired by my time at Suzuki, where we'd all switched instruments - cellists playing violin, and such – to broaden our skillsets.

"I don't even know what SOAR is," I confessed. I'd heard it mentioned by people in the Protocol office, obviously, but I'd never bothered to find out.

Cress's eyebrows went up in surprise. "You're a civilian who came aboard as a dependent, and is now in a committed relationship with a line officer and you don't know what SOAR is?"

"I really don't," I confirmed.

"You're still doing your internship with Protocol, aren't you?" She waited for my confirming nod before continuing, "It's the Starfleet Office of Assistance and Resources. Ask Lasso to hook you up with a rep, or comm me during alpha shift."

"I'll do that," I assured her. Mercifully, at that point, Data changed his focus from the conversation he was having with Dennis to the two of us.

"Zoe, Cressida, we are ready for you now."

Rehearsal with Dennis playing the lead violin position was rocky at first. We were accustomed to Data being in charge, as he was always on the beat. While none of us could match his skill – android timing and all that – Dennis was the worst of us to attempt to lead. Finally, Cress, who was even more frustrated than I was, called a halt.

"What's wrong?" Dennis might have been an engineering specialist, but he was completely clueless a lot of the time.

"You are," Cress answered, not unkindly. "You're off-time. If you won't let Data take lead, at least let Zoe set the beat."

"Fine," Dennis said. "Zoe, do your thing."

I shared a look with Data and gave a kind of half shrug. He flashed a look back at me that was clearly meant to convey that I should just go with his request.

"Okay," I said to the group. "Let's take it from part C in the second movement. Dennis, you need to be a little more legato in that part." I counted off the time, and nodded to the less experienced violinist, and we worked through the rest of the second movement of the quartet and got a good start on the third. Still, the entire evening felt off-kilter, and every note felt like work, rather than art.

On the way home, Data offered to carry my cello, as he always did, and I chose to let him, which was atypical. "You did not enjoy this evening's session," my partner observed as we entered the turbo-lift.

"We flow better when you play first violin," I explained, trying to keep the grumbling tone from dominating my voice. "Dennis picked a piece that was almost all first violin, but he really isn't good at taking the lead. We don't mesh as well. And… I may be projecting, but I think Cress resents him being so prominent."

"We seemed to regain our 'flow,' after you began to lead us."

"I guess."

"Zoe, if you no longer wish to be part of the group, no one will fault you."

"Is it that obvious?"

"It is to me," Data pointed out. "What is wrong?"

"Time is slipping away so fast. It's already May. I'm back to measuring my time here in weeks - okay, more than ten of them, but… I miss playing music with just you. I miss it being one of the ways you and I connect. At the same time, I don't really want you to replace me, because I'm not ready to let the quartet go."

Data's expression was one I hadn't seen from him before. It was contemplative and serious, but his words didn't assure me that I was overreacting. Instead he pointed out, "The recital we are working toward will be your last performance on the ship before you relocate to Earth for school."

"That, too," I confirm.

We arrived at our deck and entered our quarters, where Data returned my cello to its place in the corner, and his violin to the shelf built into the living room wall. He'd told me while I was away the previous summer that it seemed, to him, that my instrument was waiting to be used in partnership with his, but right now they felt – to me – as if they were no longer a match.

"Zoe… " Data began, but I moved close enough to press a finger to his lips, and then replace my finger with my lips.

"I'm tired and cross," I said. "I'm going to go take a bath. Can we table this conversation for about half an hour?"

"As you wish," came his answer. "Would you care for tea when you have finished your bath?"

I favored him with a soft smile. Tea and quiet conversation had been one of our first rituals and returning to it always balanced me. "I'd like that. Thank you."

I went off to soak in hot water and bubbles for half an hour. When I returned to the living room with my hair slightly damp, dressed only in one of Data's Academy t-shirts and fresh underwear, I found that my partner had lowered the lights, lit candles, and had a pot of tea and a light snack of fruit and cheese waiting on the coffee table.

The man himself was perched on one of our chairs with his guitar. "You appear to be much more relaxed," he observed. "Was your bath satisfactory?" He was still in uniform – he hadn't changed before quartet rehearsal - but something subtle in his attitude stopped me from teasing him about it.

"You know me. Want a whole new Zoe? Just add water. Unless it's morning, in which case just add coffee… although coffee is mostly water, so I guess it still applies. Are you planning to serenade me?"

"I had thought to give you a guitar lesson."

"Finally!"

"Yes, 'finally,'" Data agreed. "However, as you were not 'riding a music high' after quartet rehearsal, I have gone with 'plan B.'"

I knew the smile on my face was one that expressed fondness. "I still want to learn, but I'm really not in the mood for anything more than listening tonight. Thank you. I touched his shoulder and we shared a kiss but then I made my way to the couch, where I nestled into my corner, pulled a light blanket over my lap, and waited for my private concert, the provided tea and snacks in easy reach.

Data's playing was deft, as ever, and he kept his repertoire that evening to mostly classical music, but as my eyes grew heavy, he switched into a more contemporary piece – something he eventually told me was from twentieth century.

"Perhaps love is like a resting place
A shelter from the storm, it exists to give you comfort
It is there to keep you warm, and in those times of trouble
When you are most alone, the memory of love will bring you home

Perhaps love is like a window
Perhaps an open door, it invites you to come close
It wants to show you more, and even if you lose yourself
And don't know what to do the memory of love will see you through"

At first, I was just enjoying the song for what it was, floating on the warmth of his pure tenor, but after a few lines, I sat up straight and stared at him. Data, I realized, wasn't singing this song just as a gift of music; he was singing to convey a message.

"Oh, love to some is like a cloud
To some as strong as steel, for some a way of living
For some a way to feel, and some say love is holding on
Some say letting go, some say love is everything
And some say they don't know

Perhaps love is like the ocean full of conflict, full of change
Like a fire when its cold outside, or thunder when it rains
If I should live forever and all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you"

His name was on the tip of my tongue, but as much as I wanted to hear him tell me whatever he was trying to express with wire and wood and music and words, I wanted to let him finish. Data did very few things without some kind of plan and upsetting his agenda wouldn't serve any purpose.

He played a few bars without vocal accompaniment and then started singing at what seemed to be the mid-point of a repeated bridge.

"And some say love is holding on
Some say letting go, and some say love is everything
And some say they don't know

Perhaps love is like the ocean full of conflict, full of change
Like a fire when it's cold outside or thunder when it rains
If I should live forever and all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you"

My eyes remained fixed on Data as the last notes of his song faded into nothing. He was still for a long moment, and quiet. I wasn't sure if he was searching for words or waiting for my response. Finally, he set his guitar on the floor, leaning it against the stool, and came to join me on the couch.

I shifted my position to move closer to him, and that's when I saw it – the expression on his face. It was one I'd only ever seen once before, when he'd activated one of the files on the chip from Lore. It had been called Aperitif and it had provided my partner with a fleeting taste of love.

Then, Data's face had been suffused with a sort of inner glow, as if connections that had been so close had finally been made. It had been a broad expression, and it had only lasted a few seconds. He hadn't even been able to finish saying "I love you," before the subroutine had ended and his neural net had been temporarily overwhelmed.

The expression I was witnessing a year later was a softer version of the first; more than an echo, less than a reproduction. Data's eyes were wide open, the way they were when something surprised him, or touched him on a core-deep level. His mouth had the faintest upcurve at the corners, a gentler version of the smile that he only ever seemed to produce for me.

He reached for my hands, and I met him half-way, resting my hands in his tender clasp. "Data…?" I began, but he squeezed my fingers lightly, and I halted before I'd truly begun.

"May I speak first?" he asked. There was the faintest of quivers in his voice. I'd heard him do that before, when things between us got… intense. I didn't answer aloud, just nodded, and he continued. "One year, three months, two weeks and two-point-eight-nine days ago, we sat on this couch, and I responded to your declaration of love by explaining all that you meant to me then, and assuring you that while I could not… feel… love for you, I was devoted to you, and to us as a couple."

"I remember," I said. "When we're apart, going over your list – your litany – is part of what keeps me sane."

"Not quite one year ago," he went on, choosing not to specify the weeks, days, and hours, "Lore's chip gave me a taste of what love felt like. Specifically, my programming interpreted it as love for you."

"I remember that, too, Data. Is this some kind of early anniversary thing?" I'd officially moved in with him right after that trip. It wouldn't be unusual for him to want to mark that.

"No, Zoe; it is not. It is…" he paused, and this time, I knew he was searching for words. "… a clarification. As our relationship has deepened, so too has my concern that in committing yourself to me, you would be choosing a life where you would not receive love. More, I have considered that it may be unethical for me to expect that sacrifice from you, or to allow it."

"Sacrifice?" A flash of anger colored my reply, and I tried hard to bite it back. My partner was rarely so careful with his words. I suspected something big was about to happen, and I didn't want to ruin the song, or the moment, or…. In a firm but measured tone, I assured him. "The only sacrifice there is in being with you is the same one any civilian makes when they commit to being with a Starfleet officer: the knowledge that your commitment is Fleet, Ship, Family, in that order, for as long as you're on active duty."

For a moment, I almost expected him to debate me on that point. Instead, he gave a slight dip of his head, acknowledging the truth of my statement without explicitly addressing it. "When we returned from Hamal IV, I sought advice about this dilemma from Counselor Troi," Data continued. "She suggested that while I may never develop human emotions, I should consider the possibility that I already possess… android analogues."

"I could've told you that," I murmured. "I think I have told you that."

"Obliquely, yes, you have."

"So why are you just now willing to consider it? Because it came from Deanna?"

"I had already been considering it, from the moment on the dance floor at The Orb when I realized I was experiencing desire." Only Data could say something like that in a perfect deadpan. Only Data even would.

"I'm not sure I follow," I admitted.

Data released one of my hands, using his freed one to lift my chin so that our gazes were level. "Our relationship has always included respect, loyalty, affection, and attraction. As well, we share comfort, familiarity, intimacy, devotion, a sense of belonging, a… certainty… that we belong – that we fit – together."

I grinned at that, and felt my cheeks grow hot. Trust him to still be able to make me blush under the truth of our connection. Trust him to adopt my word when declaring… wait, was he declaring something? I wanted to ask a million questions.

Instead, I commented, "Data, it sounds like you're defining love."

I expected a dissertation about how he was merely attempting to clarify our relationship. Instead he spoke two words.

"I am."

"Data?"

The hand that had been at my chin moved to capture a small section of my hair, and he twisted it between his fingers as he spoke. "After consulting the counselor and Geordi, as well as reconsidering the many conversations we have had and analyzing the history of our relationship, I realized that in my studies of human romantic relationships, I have spent much time attempting to identify what love is to others."

"Data?" I repeated his name in a slightly different inflection.

Except for the fact that he was playing with my hair, my partner appeared unruffled. "However," he continued. "I have been remiss. I have never considered what love might be for me, and I have now determined that all of the conditions I listed earlier are not merely a definition of love; they are love."

"Data - " I was trembling slightly, and I wasn't sure why. If either of us had cause to be anxious, it wasn't me. "So, what you sang to me was… " I felt like the room was turning. If our quarters had been on the exterior side of the corridor, I'd have looked out the viewport to make sure the ship wasn't spinning. "And what you're saying is …" My eyes were darting around the room in a vain attempt to find equilibrium. I found it, finally, by returning my focus to his face – gold-leaf complexion, eyes like twin suns, the nose only someone as arrogant as Dr. Soong would have chosen, likely because it matched his own, parted lips. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe." I wasn't sure whether he was acknowledging that I'd spoken his name again or answering my questions.

"Yes… what?" I wondered if I sounded as loopy as I suddenly felt. Loopy and dizzy and a little bit shy.

"Yes, Zoe, I am telling you that I love you." There was that quiver again, in his voice, and it moved me to tears. "Dearest, why are you crying?"

I answered him with a watery smile, and the slightly smug reply, "They're happy tears, love, because I have never doubted this, but hearing you say it is all kinds of amazing."

When he kissed me, I painted his face with my tears.

(=A=)

Stardate 46357.59

(Sunday, 11 May 2369, 12:32 hours, ship's time)

U.S.S. Cairo

After spending almost all of Friday and Saturday in a state of giddy joy, I dutifully transported over to the Cairo to have lunch with Alynna Nechayev. I was greeted by a duty ensign and escorted to the stateroom the admiral had adopted as her own.

"Zoe," the admiral greeted me warmly. "You look well," she looked me up and down, clearly appraising me. "Well and happy," she amended.

"I am happy," I said. "Happy and curious," I continued, imitating her phrasing. "I know you didn't come all the way out here just to have lunch with me."

"Come sit," she said, leading me to the table placed near one of the viewports. "Phillipa Louvois says the reports she's getting on your internship are glowing."

"Well, Lt. Prerr is very generous with his praise, then." I settled into the chair opposite hers. Noticing that there was a third place-setting on the table, I asked, "Is someone joining us?"

"There is," she confirmed. "I wanted the two of you to meet privately before you return to the Enterprise. She's due any minute."

"Am I allowed to ask why you're here while we wait? Lasso said you were meeting with Captain Picard, and Data was called to a meeting not long before beamed over but, I try not to ask either of them for details of what's going on. Data tells me what he can, when he can, but..." I trailed off because her expression had changed, and she was peering at me curiously. "Alynna?"

"You have a personal relationship with Captain Picard?"

As far as I knew, the only people who knew for sure that the captain had been teaching me to box, and had asked to sail with me sometime, were Data and Captain Louvois. I'd planned to tell Deanna but hadn't gotten around to it. Still this woman ranked all of them, and she'd maintained a personal relationship with me even after her nephew and I had determined we weren't really couple material.

"Last year, in the first few weeks of recovering from my rape, I accidentally usurped his workout. He found me abusing a heavy bag and stopped me from injuring my hands and wrists. It turned into a regular thing. We meet once a week, when his schedule allows."

"I see. It's good you have a physical outlet, but I thought you were a surfer?"

"I am, and I swim also, but at the time I really needed to punch things."

"That's completely understandable," Alynna said, "and I'm glad Jean-Luc was willing to help."

"I think it helped him, too," I said. "He gets to take off his pips for a couple of hours, so to speak."

"All officers need that release, Zoe. I'm sure you've seen that even with Data."

I nodded, "It's not as obvious with him, but yes, he needs down-time, too."

The chime of the annunciator paused our conversation, and we both looked to the door. The woman who entered was maybe ten centimeters taller than me, and looked like she was in her mid-thirties, though anti-aging technology was so good, she could have been fifteen years older or younger, and I would not have been surprised. Her hair was jet black, but her eyes were sea green, and the smile on her face told me that she, at least, knew why the Cairo and Enterprise had rendezvoused.

Like me, she was dressed in civilian clothing – a simple sleeveless dress and heels with understated jewelry.

Taking my cue from the admiral, I rose to my feet to greet the newcomer.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, her manner easy and bright. "Ed was certain he'd requested his dress uniform be pressed, and he hadn't and…" she stopped. "Forgive me, Alynna."

Chuckling and shaking her head, the admiral said, "No apology necessary, Deb. Zoe and I have been catching up. Zoe Harris, this is Deborah Jellico. Until today her husband was commanding officer of this vessel. Deb, Zoe is an intern in the Enterprise protocol office. She's part of a pilot program for high school students who live-aboard, although her status isn't quite typical of most such students."

"Zoe, it's good to meet you; please call me Deb." We shook hands and then we all took our seats. A duty ensign appeared as if from nowhere to serve lunch – a salmon dish with a green salad and seasoned rice – along with glasses of mineral water with wedges of lime.

"What makes you atypical, Zoe?" Deb Jellico asked me, at the same time that I asked her:

"Why was your husband only captain of the Cairo 'until today?'"

We both laughed, and I ducked my head slightly toward the older woman. "You first?"

"Ed's been transferred to the Enterprise," she explained, glancing at Alynna.

The small blonde woman whom I'd heard experienced officers refer to as the Dragon Lady sat up a bit straighter in her chair. "Zoe, as a civilian student you normally wouldn't be privy to any but the most basic information about this, but you're not just a student. You're also the partner of the Enterprise's second officer, and as such, I'm going to share a little more than the basics. This goes no further than this room, and Commander Data; is that clear?"

I also sat up a bit taller, recognizing that the 'Aunt Alynna' portion of the afternoon had ended. "Absolutely."

"At thirteen hundred hours, ship's time, Captain Picard will cede command of the Enterprise to Captain Edward Jellico. Picard, Dr. Crusher, and Lt. Worf have been assigned to detached duty for aa mission that I'm afraid I cannot detail, even for you. They will be spending several days in preparation. You may see things in the protocol office that you would consider to be unusual. I'm going to ask you to ignore them as best you can."

I glanced at Deb. Her expression was open but serious, and she picked up the conversation with her tone matching her face. "Zoe, as the partner of an existing crew member, there will be people among the Enterprise crew and the civilian complement who will look to you as an example of how to handle things. I know you're very young, and this is likely the first time you'll be put in such a position – "

"It's not." I blurted it out, and then immediately apologized. "Forgive me for interrupting, but it's not. Last month, there was an incident where the ship was taken by a group of Ferengi mercenaries, and most of the adults were sent to the surface of Ligos VIII to work in the mines. The Ferengi consider it inhumane to separate men from their mates, and Data made our relationship clear to them, so we'd be housed together." I made a sort of shrugging motion. "Apparently, I'm more approachable than he is, especially when he's the ranking officer on-scene. Anyway, the whole time we were there people came to me asking if I knew if their kids were safe aboard the ship – they were – or if Data was working on a plan – he was – or, well, sometimes they just wanted to be assured no one was in it alone."

"That must have been difficult for you," Deb observed, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

"Data would tell you that I 'handled myself most ably,'" I said, falling into my partner's inflection out of habit. "But I had a complete meltdown once we were home, and in private."

"I'll have to request his official log," Alynna commented. "In any case, Zoe, you may be asked to be a bit more of a liaison than you typically are. If you're unsure, or uncomfortable, Deb will be there to help you, and I expect that you will be helpful and supportive of her."

"Of course, I will," I said without hesitation. I turned to Deb, "I'm barely scratching the surface of what it's like to be in a committed relationship with a line officer, but I know very well what it's like to be new somewhere."

The black-haired woman smiled. "Thank you, Zoe. I'm sure you and I will be very good friends."

I didn't really reply to her, but I made my agreement clear. I had a feeling she was right.

Our lunch broke up shortly after that. Deb left to collect her son, and Alynna called the duty ensign to escort me back to the transporter room. "I'm sorry there isn't more time, Zoe. I suspect you and Data would have enjoyed a tour of the Cairo." She paused and pulled me into a slightly awkward embrace. "I promised your mother I wouldn't let you leave without a hug."

I laughed and hugged her back. "I'm betting you don't do that a lot," I said, stepping back.

"Practically never. It would ruin my hard-won reputation as a cold-hearted bitch." We both laughed that time, and then the ensign arrived to escort me back to the transporter room, and I was beamed home.

(=A=)

Stardate 46360.40

(Monday, 12 May 2369, 13:09 hours, ship's time)

U.S.S. Enterprise

"The whole ship feels different," I complained to Deanna Troi at lunch that day. At my request, we were eating in the med-deck mess, a small bay of replicators and a few tables located around the corner from sickbay. "There's all this tension, and people are really on-edge."

"Is that why we're having lunch in seclusion?" the other woman asked, her tone full of humor. "Because the change in command has you unsettled?"

"No. I mean, yes, that's part of it. Alyn – Admiral Nechayev warned me that since Data's the only member of the senior staff with a partner, and since the crew doesn't know Deb – Deborah Jellico – yet, people would approach me, but I thought it would take longer."

"Does it bother you, that people see you as an extension of him?"

"Not this time. It bothered me a little when we were all on Ligos VIII last month, but I didn't realize it had until we were back home. But now? I don't know. There's a bunch of junior officers who have been calling me 'Mrs. Data' for a year now, and while I'd rather they knew my name, and it feels presumptuous to let them do it when we're not even engaged... I guess… I guess I'm okay with it. Especially since he…" I trailed off, not sure I wanted to share the words Data had given me with anyone yet.

"Especially since he what, Zoe?"

I considered making something up, or evading, but she'd be able to sense it, either way. "Especially since he told me he loves me." I said the words very quickly, as if I wasn't entirely certain they were meant to be spoken aloud.

"Zoe, that's wonderful!"

"It is," I said, beaming. "I mean… he said in a completely analytical and Data-ish way, but there is no character in any romance novel, or vid, or play that could have said it better if they were saying it to me." I feel my cheeks getting hot. "Wow, that was sappy."

"No, Zoe, it wasn't," Deanna was quick to assure. She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. "I know that you would have been content to never hear those words - "

"But the fact that he couldn't was eating at him. He said he was concerned that it was a breach of ethics to hold me to a loveless relationship. I wonder if he'll ever realize how much it never was?" I chuckled softly. "Actually, I feel kind of powerful. I managed to make an android declare his love."

Troi's delighted laughter mingled with mine. "As well you should," she said.

I let the moment end and spent a couple of minutes actually eating my go-to lunch: a chicken Caesar salad and iced tea. When I'd picked all the chicken out of it, I looked back at Deanna. "So, I promised I'd tell you who my sparring partner is."

She leaned forward. "I confess, Zoe, in both a personal and professional capacity, I've been incredibly curious."

"I know," I told her. "But I couldn't tell you without his permission, and also, I kind of enjoyed that I had this secret."

"A little mystery never hurt anyone," Deanna agreed, "and I promise it will stay between us."

"Last year, in those first couple of weeks after my rape when I was trying to find something physical to burn off anger and energy?" I made it a question to jog her memory, and when she confirmed with a nod that she remembered the time in question, I went on. "Data was at the poker game you all have and I went to the gym intending to use the Pilates studio, but on my way there, I saw an open workout room with a heavy bag hanging in it, that no one seemed to be using."

"And?" Even in personal lunches, Troi was an active listener.

"Well, I took a few experimental punches, and, let me tell you: those things aren't called 'heavy' without reason. I was about to take a wicked swing when the person who'd originally reserved the room showed up, and said, 'It's customary to ask before you take over a reserved training room.'" I did my best approximation of the captain's accent and cadence. It wasn't terribly good, but it was enough that she realized who I was trying to imitate.

"You crashed Captain Picard's workout."

"I did," I confirmed. "But he was pretty cool about it. He replicated gloves in my size and taught me proper stance. And when I had a meltdown and ended up bawling all over him, he was kind and gentle and incredibly tactful."

"Captain Picard cultivates his gruff persona to deter people from getting too close," Deanna shared. "What happened next?"

"The poker game had ended by then, and Data arrived to walk me home. The captain advised me to eat a light meal, take a shower before bed, and hydrate, and the next morning I had a message inviting me to come and 'continue my lessons.'" I cocked my head and peered at her. "You really had no idea?"

"None at all," Deanna affirmed. "I knew his mood was always lighter on the nights after our poker games, and you'd told me you were taking lessons, but I never put it together. I understand now, why he gave you such a personal gift on your birthday."

I ducked my head, embarrassed. "Yeah. When we… we warm up with the bag, but after a few weeks we started actually sparring. He can totally take me, but I've learned a lot, and the physicality helps."

"I'm glad it does."

"Me, too. The thing is though, we talk. In between bag work and actual boxing. Nothing important or lofty. My college plans come up a lot. Books we've read, stuff like that. And… he came to the holodeck to personally explain why Ensign Sutter wasn't being taken to the brig. But he didn't ask me to cancel the sailing program I was running, just went below and made tea to drink while we talked. And… he asked me if he might join me on a sailing trip sometime. And now he's not the captain, anymore, and I know it's selfish, but…."

"You're worried you won't get to spend more time with him?" Her tone was very gentle when she said it.

"Pretty much that, yes."

"I don't know the specifics of his mission. Data would know more, but – "

" – I never ask. About what you're all working on, I mean. Data and I have this tacit agreement that he'll tell me what he can, but I never ask."

"You know it's alright if you ask him – or me - don't you?"

The smile I favored her with was a wistful one. "I know." I didn't tell her that it was my choice not to ask about these things.

(=A=)

Stardate 46364.16

(Tuesday, 13 May 2369, 22:10 hours, ship's time)

I had expected my boxing session with Captain Picard to be canceled – which it was – because Data informed me during a dinner-break on Sunday that had been far too short, that the trio being sent on this mysterious away mission would be in 'intense physical preparation until their departure on Wednesday.'

I had not expected the annunciator to chime around ten at night, while Data and I were both engaged in quiet activities. I was updating my resume, at the request of my agent, Bernadette "Bernie" Stinson, and Data was revamping the duty shifts for the crew who reported directly to him. One of Commander Jellico's first acts as commanding officer had been to order a change from a three-shift schedule to one that had four, and I'd heard more than a few people grumbling about the change.

My hair was still damp from a bath, and I was barefoot, and dressed in one of Data's Academy tees and a pair of Yale sweatpants, while my partner was still in his duty uniform, so he got up to answer the door.

I couldn't tell who was on the other side of it, but Data returned to the main part of our quarters a moment later. "That was Ensign Wood with a package for you," he explained, offering me a rectangular parcel wrapped in brown kraft paper. "Do not worry, dearest. I do not believe it is another pigeon."

"Woody's got mail delivery duty?"

"This does not appear to have come through the usual mail system," Data said. "Perhaps instead of spending time in conjecture, you should simply open it." He joined me on the couch, and I set my padd and stylus aside so I could take the package from him.

"Sure, be all logical about it," I grumbled, but it was a good-natured complaint. Still, Data remained there, next to me, as I ripped open the paper. He had been correct: it wasn't a pigeon.

It was a book.

Specifically, it was an obviously old edition of a novel called Master and Commander. The cover, which bore the image of a centuries-old Naval sailing ship – the kind with three masts - wasn't lying flat against the bound pages, however, and when I opened it to see why, I found an envelope – good quality cream-colored paper, with my name written on it in peacock blue ink.

I gave the book to Data, and opened the envelope, drawing out a piece of stiff cardstock with the Chateau Picard logo at the top. I recognized it from the nutcracker I'd opened in the captain's presence while the man I loved was jaunting through time, the previous December.

"It's from Captain Picard," I said, puzzlement evident in my tone. I scanned the handwriting. It wasn't angular and crisp like Data's, but there was something authoritative in the weight of the crosses on the t's and the dots on the i's. "He says that since I love the sea, and 'have a penchant for pirates' he thought I might enjoy a boyhood favorite of his. "'This volume is yours to keep,'" I read aloud, "'but if you enjoy it, as I suspect you will, the remaining eighteen novels are available in the ship's entertainment library.' Have you read these?" I asked.

"I have not. However, if you would like me to, I would be happy to download the text so that we can discuss the novel when you have finished it."

"Any chance you'd be willing to experience the story a different way?"

"Please elaborate?" Data encouraged.

I settled back into my corner of the couch, stretched my feet out so they rested on his lap, and explained, "I read a page; you read a page." Without waiting for his response, I opened the book and began to read the book out loud:

"The music room in the Governor's House at Port Mahon, a tall, handsome, pillared octagon, was filled with the triumphant first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet. The players, Italians pinned against the far wall by rows and rows of little round gilt chairs, were playing with passionate conviction as they mounted towards the penultimate crescendo, towards the tremendous pause and the deep, liberating final chord. And on the little gilt chairs at least some of the audience were following the rise with an equal intensity: there were two in the third row, on the left-hand side; and they happened to be sitting next to one another. The listener farther to the left was a man of between twenty and thirty whose big form overflowed his seat, leaving only a streak of gilt wood to be seen here and there. He was wearing his best uniform – the white lapelled blue coat, white waistcoat, and breeches and stockings of a lieutenant in the Royal Navy…"

Alternating pages, Data and I finished the first chapter that night, but later, in bed, I found myself tossing and turning, until gentle gold hands stilled my movements and a soft tenor asked, "Zoe, what is troubling you?"

I sat up in bed, using those few seconds to organize my thoughts. "I heard people talking about Cardassians in Ten-Forward today. All these changes to schedules… Captain Jellico taking over the Enterprise, Captain Picard, Dr. Crusher, and Lt. Worf being sent on some mysterious detached assignment… Data, are we going to war?" It was the closest I had gotten to asking for information I likely wasn't supposed to have.

But my awesome boyfriend seemed to sense that I needed something to reassure me. "There are details of our current assignment that I cannot share with you, dearest, but the rumors of Cardassian activity are not entirely unfounded. However, at this time it is unlikely that the Federation will engage."

"But we are close to the DMZ, aren't we?" I'd heard enough, from him, and from others, to know where we were in space.

"We are, and we will be hosting a Cardassian delegation. It is unlike you to worry without cause, Zoe. Is there something provoking this line of thinking." It was his gentle way of telling me I was letting my imagination get the better of me.

"Only that I'm a horrible person. I know that three of your colleagues – of our friends – are doing something secret and dangerous, and as much as I want all of them to accomplish their task and come back safely, I'm equally thankful that it's not you."

"You are not horrible," Data's response came with no hesitation. "You are human, and it is normal for you to feel this way. If our positions were reversed, I would be preoccupied with gratitude that you were safe and well and with me."

"Promise?"

"Always."

Accepting that, I eased myself back down under the covers, and cuddled close to him. He'd opted not to work in bed that night, and I was grateful for his attention. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe."

"The… the thing you said on Thursday night… it wasn't a one-time event, was it?"

"It was not."

"Then, could you say it again?"

He gathered me close and kissed the top of my head. I smiled against his chest. "I am devoted to you, Zoe. I love you."

That faint quiver was still there, in his voice. When my head was clearer, I had a ton of questions to ask him, starting with that. In the moment, however, I gave him the four words I'd previously given him in response to half a dozen other phrases.

"I love you, too."

To Be Continued

Notes: "How Sweet It Is (to Be Loved by You)" was written by the Motown songwriting team of Holland-Dozier-Holland, and first recorded by Marvin Gaye in 1964. It was established in the first chapter of my story Auld Lang Syne that Zoe likes Motown. "Perhaps Love," was written by John Denver, and originally recorded as a duet with Placido Domingo, in 1981. It was meant as a gift for his wife Annie, though they were divorced shortly after. The version Data sings to Zoe is not a duet, but the solo version Denver included as a bonus track on the 1998 reissue of Rocky Mountain Christmas.

Deborah Jellico, and the Jellico's son Franklin (age ten, you'll meet him later) were originally referenced in the script for this episode (the son still is but not by name), but the scene was cut. She appears in expanded universe fiction. I gave her the nickname Deb.

Master and Commander is the first in a series of novels by Patrick O'Brien. (You might have heard of or seen the movie that was made several years ago.) On the surface, it's just an adventure on the high seas, but the deeper story explores the educated naval officer's moral dichotomy between scientific exploration and war as experienced during the Age of Sail and the Napoleonic Wars, with threads that discuss commercial sailing, and colonialism, as well.

I also want to warn you that we have now reached the point where there will be divergence from canon. Events you know from the show will still occur in the order they originally did, but Zoe has been a catalyst for some pretty big changes in Data's self and in his life, and her very presence means that he will react differently. It's still a close-canon AU, just… not quite as close.

As always, thank you for reading. Your comments are better than chocolate. (Revised 27 September 2019)