Star-Struck 3
Forgive me if I'm moving a bit fast. I really wanted to get to the story – I was getting tired of the preliminary background required to get to know Melisandre.
One year after Melisandre's transfer to the Enterprise…
Beverly, Deanna, Melisandre, and a few girls from the nursery were sitting in Ten Forward having tea and cakes during off hours, chatting.
"…And she said she thought he was cuddly!" giggled Annelise, an ensign in charge of the nursery.
Deanna laughed. "She really thought so? I wonder what the Captain would say about that."
"The Captain would say about what?" Will stepped over the back of the chair and sat down. "Hello, ladies."
"Hey Will," Beverly smiled. "Annelise was telling us about young Tricia McKenzie. She seemingly finds," here she chuckled, "the Captain to be rather… cuddly."
"Cuddly?" Will raised his eyebrows. "And how old might this young lady be?"
"Ah, no worries, Will, Tricia's just turned three," Deanna said. Will choked on his coffee and laughed out loud.
"Which led to our speculation as to the Captain's response – we all know he's not too big on kids," Melisandre added.
"I'd say that's a bit of an understatement," Beverly said. "And not just little kids – even Wes unsettles him."
"Beverly, we all know the Captain is very proud of Wes' achievements," Deanna began.
"Oh, I never said he wasn't. He's just a little…unsure, that's all. Though you'd never catch me saying anything of the sort about any other aspect of him."
"I feel honored to have been transferred here to serve under his command. Hell, what would've I done under Captain Darkner? I probably would've worn my fingertips through from tapping them against each other," Melisandre said.
"Well, we all know Darkner's infamous personality runs far ahead of the man himself," said Beverly.
Lynne, another crewwoman from the nursery, nodded. "Yeah, definitely. You see, he's my uncle."
"Hmmm," said Will. "I met the man in Starfleet during my training. Must admit I found him an awful bore. I see your point, 'Lise."
She nodded, and opened her mouth to reply when the computer's voice was heard. "Officers Riker, Crusher, Asimov, Troi, Singh, Reisa, and Westford, please return to your stations. Next shift begins in 10 minutes."
"Damn, there goes our last break of the day," Beverly sighed, and got up to stretch. "I'll be going. See you all later."
Everyone nodded and went their separate ways.
Later that evening, when the night shift began, everyone gathered in the aft lounge. Will was playing chess against O'Brien, and they had drawn a small crowd.
"Rook to… Rook to Bishop Four, Queen's Level," Will said determinedly. He was going to win this one.
"Oooooh," came the collective voice from the spectators.
"The Riker Maneuver!" laughed Beverly.
"'Riker Maneuver', indeed," said Will. O'Brien moved his piece. Will scrutinized the board, and moved one of his pieces. "Check… and, I believe, Mate."
O'Brien got up and offered his hand. "Well played, sir."
"And you," Will returned and looked around. "So… does anyone dare to question my lawful championship?"
"Will," said Melisandre, "You have time for another game?"
"Ah! I smell a nonbeliever. Come, madam, and I shall—"
"Oh!" she laughed. "I didn't mean me, I want you to play Data. It's for an experiment I'm doing."
Will's jovial grin faded a bit. "I meant a human, flesh and blood contester to my crown, not Data." He winked.
"Come on Will!" she begged. "Please?"
He sat down. "Oh, all right, just for you. Get your mechanical bottom on that chair, Data; I accept your challenge to my kingdom."
"I see, sir," said Data slowly, raising his eyebrows as he sat down across from Will.
"Hey Data, no pressure, I just wanted to try something." Melisandre squeezed his shoulder. Data nodded, and the game began.
For a while, it seemed nothing out of the ordinary was happening, but suddenly Deanna noticed something.
"Will…" she said slowly, "I think he stole your move."
Will studied the board. "I'm inclined to think you're right. What's this, Data? Stealing the 'Riker Maneuver'?"
Data cocked his head on the side and frowned. "No sir, I am employing the only logical method of annulling your strategy."
A small squeak came from Melisandre's open mouth. "I…I…I've got it!" she whispered.
"Got what?" asked Beverly.
"I've got it!" she whispered again, slightly louder.
"'Lise, what is it?" Deanna said with some worry.
"That's it!" cried Melisandre. "Deanna, you're a genius. Data, that's why you haven't been able to beat yourself! You pick up on your opponent's nuances of play and use them to your own advantage – and when you play yourself, it causes a loop. This is the answer I've been looking for for a year!" She slammed her communicator in her excitement and promptly winced. "Asimov to Captain Picard. I have reached an interesting and rather sudden conclusion to my studies on Commander Data."
"Acknowledged, Asimov," came the Captain's voice. "I will be happy to discuss it with you tomorrow morning after the morning briefing if you'd come to the ready room."
"Be there with bells on. Melisandre out."
Everyone looked at each other. Melisandre out? Not Asimov out?
Later that night, Melisandre called on Deanna while on her way to quarters.
"Deanna? Could I speak with you for a moment?" she called through the door.
"'Course, 'Lise, come in," Deanna said, rushing to open the door. "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"
"Yes, of course," Melisandre said hurriedly, "I just wanted your opinion on something."
"Well, come in, sit down." Deanna sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to her. Melisandre sat down, looking perplexed.
"Well, you see, it's Captain Picard."
"What about him?" Deanna asked.
"It's…well, you've probably noticed how he refers to the bridge crew. Geordi is 'Geordi'. Worf is 'Worf'. Data is 'Data'… not that there's any other way to call them, but… Beverly is 'Beverly', you're 'Deanna', Will is 'Will'… and I'm 'Asimov'. He even called Tasha by her nickname! I've been here for a year, Deanna, what have I done wrong? Why won't he even call me 'Melisandre', he doesn't have to adopt ''Lise' like the rest of you, I just feel so…" she faded.
"Frustrated?" asked Deanna.
"Exactly."
Deanna sighed. She had noticed it but gave it no second thought. "I know, 'Lise, I do. But Captain Picard is a very private man, and he probably does not feel comfortable addressing you so familiarly. I'm sure he'll come around, you don't need to worry."
"I'm not worrying, but… alright, I'll relax and take my mind off it. It shouldn't mean so much to me anyways. Thanks, Deanna."
"Not at all. Good night, 'Lise."
"'Night, Di."
Bright and early the next morning Melisandre reported to the bridge to continue running tests on various systems. She had been assigned a parallel role to Geordi, who kept an eye on the physical workings of Engineering while she oversaw the computer's part in running the ship.
"Good morning," greeted the Captain as he walked off the turbolift. "Worf, Data, Will, Asimov." He walked down and settled himself in his chair. "Anything interesting?"
"Nothing, sir," Data reported. "No ships in the sector."
"No abnormal sensor readings," added Worf.
"And everything's running shipshape here and in Engineering," Melisandre said.
"Lovely." He stretched and slapped his knees. "So, what is our ETA for arrival on Aldebaran Three?"
"Three days, six hours, forty-two minutes, and—"
"Thank you, Mr. Data."
Everyone hid smiles, and returned to their work. Picard and Will withdrew to the ready room for a briefing.
After an hour or two, Will returned. "The Captain wishes to see you, 'Lise."
"Aye aye, sir!" Melisandre saluted him with a flourish, and, leaving the rest of the crew laughing, marched to the ready room door and pressed the chime.
"Come!" said Picard's voice. Suddenly, she wasn't so confident anymore, and faltered. She took a deep breath and stepped in.
He was seated on the couch with a cup of tea and a smile.
"Good morning, sir." She looked at his feet.
"And to you, Lieutenant. What was so important that you called me in the middle of a ride through the Himalayas yesterday?"
"Begging pardon, sir, I had no idea—" she began.
"No, I expect you didn't. No harm done, though. " He looked at her and noticed she still did not make eye contact. "Look up, girl. Come, sit down, let me make you a cup of tea. Now, talk."
She smiled shyly and quickly looked back down. "Well, sir, I hope I didn't get too excited, and that you don't view this as a waste of time—"
"Please…If I found this a waste of time, I assure you, you wouldn't be here." He looked at her kindly, and inside wondered what he could do to make her less intimidated. "Asimov…" he was suddenly and inexplicably reminded of how she had last closed her communications to him – Melisandre out. "Melisandre…"
She looked up instantly, and met his eyes with surprise. There, he thought to himself, That's better. "Melisandre, go on. I'm listening."
She told him of her findings.
"That would mean, I suppose," mused Picard, "that in any situation requiring strategic thinking, if we set Data on to it he will adapt the opponents' methods to his own advantage?"
"Yes, I'm sure of it!" cried Melisandre. "And, if the opponent does not adapt in his own right, the inevitable result would be Data's victory."
"Fascinating." Picard stood up. "Well done, Asi-… Melisandre. That was very good indeed."
She bowed her head. "Thank you, sir. I won't take up any more of your time, sir." And with that, she walked out.
Picard found himself oddly empty. He'd gotten her to open up (and wondered why the hell he hadn't called her "Melisandre" before), and just when he was getting used to it she swept away. Damn.
